The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him.
Psalm 103:13

He approached us with rapid steps and a worried look, calling out “Hey—are you guys part of the neighborhood?” Drew and I nodded, stopping our evening walk to see what this man intended to say to us. As he drew closer, I noticed bruises on his eye and chin. His clothes were disheveled and his eyes had a glassy look to them. The moment he noticed we were prepared to listen, the young man let loose a torrent of words, almost without taking a breath.

“Okay ‘cuz I just got out of jail and I’ve got this ex-girlfriend stuck in an R.V. with her new boyfriend on that street over there, but he’s not letting her out and he’s hurting her and like I’m not even jealous, I just want her to be happy; I even said to the guy, ‘You can punch me instead of her,’ so anyways he’s not letting her go anywhere and I’m trying to like get the neighborhood to band together to help her, you know?”

After expressing our concern we told the stranger we’d keep an eye out and began to pray as we headed home. I watched the faded sidewalk passing beneath my feet as we asked God to protect and deliver his daughter from the evil of domestic violence, and to show us if there was something more we could do. When we finished praying, I looked up and noticed another man bent over a little girl a block ahead of us.

Curious, I watched closely as we walked towards them until I realized he was simply tying her shoe. The little girl hopped back up with a smile and skipped ahead, her curls bouncing as she ran. The man smiled too as he stood up more slowly and followed her down the street, letting her play freely but never letting her out of his sight. As he walked away from us, I noticed the back of his shirt. It said, “Lamb of God.”

My stomach fell as the weight of what I had just experienced in a span of five minutes washed over me. On the street behind me, a violent man was using and abusing his girlfriend, keeping her trapped and afraid. On the street in front of me, a father was loving and serving his daughter by kneeling to tie her shoe, enabling her to run and play safely. The contrast between the captivity of the woman I had just prayed for and the utter freedom and joy of the little girl in front of me was almost too much to bear, until I sensed God say, “I am like that father: gentle, patient, following but never pushing.”

*

God’s message to me that evening reminded me of a truth he’d impressed upon my heart only days earlier. I was on a boat with my family, feeling the perfect bliss of the sun warming my skin and the wind cooling me down at the same time. The water rushed past and the mountains stayed still and all of it felt like prayer. So I said, “God, I just want to be used by you. Show me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.” And the response came immediately:

“I don’t want to use you. I just want to love you.”

What.

“No really. I am far more interested in loving you than using you.” 

The tenderness of God’s unexpected response to my good Christian prayer of “use me” baffled me and brought tears to my eyes. I realized that I am far more comfortable being “used” by God because if God is using me then maybe I am earning God’s favor. My heart felt heavy as I realized it actually takes more work and courage for me to rest in God’s love than to engage actively in what I deem to be “God’s work.” In his homily “In the End, a Banquet,” Father Richard Rohr says,

“God has always had a very hard time giving away God: No one wants seems to want this gift. We’d rather have religion, and laws, and commandments, and obligations, and duties.”

Can you relate? If so, why do we often find it easier to be put to work by God than to be loved by God? What are we afraid of? Deep down, do we suspect that if we truly believed God loved us wholly, madly, irrevocably, our whole lives would have to change in a way that makes us uncomfortable?

I wonder if settling for being used by God rather than pressing in to the painfully exquisite reality of being loved by God is actually a form of our trying to remain in control.

Which is more risky for you? To give $100 to a homeless shelter or to stop working, striving, trying so hard to do good and instead be intimately tended to by your Father? For me, I confess it is often more appealing to check a good deed off my list than to spend time simply communing with the Trinity.

Please don’t misunderstand me; as Christians, it is vitally important to be about the work of flourishing the Kingdom. But it is a grievous mistake to do anything that is not done from a secure place of Belovedness. When we work from striving instead of love, we end up getting hurt and hurting others in the process. Well-intentioned people will tell you there is nothing more important than finding and following “God’s Will For Your Life,” but they forget what God actually says about this through the life Jesus: we must begin as Beloved.

After his baptism, as Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and settling on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy.”

(Mark 3:16-17)

Before Jesus began his ministry, he was baptized into his identity. It seems even the son of God needed to know he was deeply loved before he began the work of saving the world. For the first time in my life, I’m no longer convinced that it is more important to “get out there and do big things for God” than it is to utterly trust, believe, and receive the love of the Father. Why? Because a life that does not flow out of the abundance of Belovedness may appear fruitful but will eventually turn sterile, empty, and dry. We’ll wonder what’s wrong with God—why isn’t he faithful when we’ve bent over backwards to follow his will? And in infinite patience and compassion God simply says,

“Stop. Let me love you.”

God is not an angry, controlling man keeping us trapped in a trailer so we can obey his every whim.

God is a loving father who has time for us, who bends over us to tend our wounds and tie our shoes, who follows us with deep love and affection—not because we’re useful, but because we’re His.

Ours is a God who chooses love over productivity every time, a God who stops for the one bleeding person on the side of the road, a God who promises to be with us always.

Imagine a world in which every single person lived out of their identity as a beloved daughter or son of God. Can you envision a life brimming with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? This is God’s design for humanity, yet we often settle for far less than our inheritance.

Today and each day forward, may God give us the grace to know the difference between being used and being loved, and to seek a life of Belovedness with our whole hearts until we’re absolutely saturated to overflowing with the deep, deep, love of God.

*

A prayer:

God,

Thank you for creating us for love.

We confess that we’ve often chosen productivity over rest, earning over receiving, and working for love over working from love.

We are tired and jaded; re-enchant us with your vision for this world.

Teach us anew how to live as your Beloved—nothing more, nothing less.

Give us the grace to go slowly on the path towards eternity, and to bless our wounds as deep wells ready to receive your living water.

Author of Love, we love you. 

Amen.

To go deeper: Read “Messenger” by Mary Oliver for a beautiful take on living and working from our belovedness.