Painted Faces - the masks people wear

His grace....

     It's pretty bad when even your rapists find you too revolting to touch. Something breaks inside your very being, and nothing seems to ever be right again.

I've almost lost track today. Of who, how many times. I have tried fighting and the bruises from being held down hurt. I'm exhausted. I stopped listening a while ago, kind of just zoned out. But now he's using a bottle brush – to "clean me out" coz I'm disgusting". I know. I know I am. But didn't they make me that way? Isn't it them that they're cleaning out of me? It stings! I start to shake uncontrollably and try not to open my eyes or whimper. But I can't help it. And it's pink, with bits stuck to it too. Suddenly I'm above looking down and I realise that's me. There's nothing I can do. I almost don't even care.

    I am the daughter of the King, creator God of everything. 

   He loves me – and you – in spite of all that I've done, all that I have had done to me, all that I am. 

He knows every thought I've ever had and am going to have. 

   His grace abounds for me – for all of us. He waits, patiently, for us to see that. No heartache is too difficult for Him to listen to. None of us are too insignificant for Him to notice. But not just notice – for Him to love. 

Love so much that it's beyond our understanding. 

Love so much that He would – and did – die for us. 

   He didn't wait to see how things panned out, whether we were worth it. He just knew we were. Worth it. He placed us here for a reason, and part of that reason is so He can know us, have relationship with us. 

In spite of every excuse you can place before Him. 

Every reason why He should want to have nothing to do with us. 

Because He's Holy, right? Yes, but He's also our Abba. 

    Abba is the affectionate alternative to father in the Hebrew language. More like "Daddy" in English. Far more intimate, close. That's who He longs to be for us – our Abba. Not just our father. Anyone can be a father, but not everyone truly earns the right to be an Abba. Know what I mean? He's our good father. Nothing bad in him; and He'll never fall short, stuff up or reject us. 

I chose the song "Abba let me be" as the song at my baptism. It speaks of asking Him to be my Abba, approachable, caring, always there. "Let me always be yours". To me that spoke of closeness, intimacy, trust and protection. I could curl up on His lap, tell Him everything and cry if I needed to. He was real, tangible. That was who I wanted, needed. I needed to know He cared. Had time for me as my Abba and loved – wanted – me in spite of everything.

    How can that be? How can a holy, righteous, all-powerful God really want me? I am not able to be holy. I am sinful, even at my best. I am splattered with other people's sin and filth as well and no matter how hard I might try I can never always do it right. And He wanted me – and you – enough to die a horrible death in order to have us for eternity. 

And not just that, but with the mystery of the triune God, He not only experienced that horrible death on the cross and felt every pain, but He also, as the Father, watched His son go through it. When He could have chosen not to. 

I often think of Jesus' mother, Mary, watching all He went through at the foot of that cross. How could a mother bear it? I know as a mother I would far rather suffer any pain my children had to bear than leave them to go through it themselves. Yet God the father decided to experience that too. 

Because He sees us as worth it. How then do we have the right to say He's wrong?

   He was there with me when those men did what I described above. He wept. He was angry. He took an account of it and He gave me a way of coping. And I love Him for that. I honour Him for that. You might say – "well He could have just removed you from the situation or sent someone to rescue you" – and yes, He could have. But I don't expect He should have and - because of the world we live in – we have to live with the bad choices we and other people make. If He took away that process He would be also taking away free choice. And then our relationship with Him would mean nothing. And we would all lose because of that – God as well. Allowing bad things to happen is a direct result of allowing us to have free will. We can't have it both ways.

    Think about your small child. They want to climb that tree. You can see the potential danger involved and could stop them and keep them perfectly safe. But you don't. Because you know that they will learn valuable lessons from climbing that tree. They will learn outcomes related to choices, how to navigate tricky obstacles, keep focused and how to extend themselves. They will experience the exaltation of reaching the top, being with their friends and belonging rather than being kept apart while others have all the fun. If they do fall, they will know what pain is and the consequences of maybe bad choices or momentary loss of focus. They will travel the journey to healing and learn to trust others for support. They will learn that the outcome of choices is not always good or even short term. And they will hopefully learn how to do it better next time. You might hold your breath until they're safely on firm ground again, but in the end you know that is best. Be assured I'm not talking about irresponsibly allowing your child leap into certain danger. But there is always that balance. Not allowing them to take small risks will only potentially allow a spirit of fear to take up residence in their lives. I speak from experience.

    Lets go back to Psalm 91 and that hen and her chicks again. Her open wings are an invitation. She calls to her chicks but they can choose to ignore her, "go it alone". In order to reap the benefit of her protection and comfort they have to make a move. Towards her. She's offering help, safety, to fight on their behalf. But it's up to them. They have a choice. 

And so with God. We have a choice. We can hold on to the promises of Psalm 91 but it requires action on our behalf. We must first choose to run to the Lord. To dwell under His wings. Abide in His shelter. He will not force us. To do so would render that protection meaningless.