It was complicated with Daddy and me. I was a late-in-life-baby for him and Mama. My brother was already sixteen and destined, it seemed, to be an only child. I am not sure how many miscarriages she experienced in the years between him and me - they were multiple. Mama was forty and had what the doctor determined to be a rapidly growing ovarian cyst. One precautionary pregnancy test later, there I was. I joke sometimes that I began my life as a tumor. Not that funny, come to think of it. Mama was careful to call me a surprise instead of an accident but I can only imagine how I upset their apple cart. I sent her into an early menopause. Let that sink in for a minute. A new baby. Menopause. Speechless. She was amazing. And Daddy? Daddy was busy.
He was a bi-vocational pastor before the word was invented. He did shift work at Republic Steel in Gadsden and pastored not one but two small churches in rural Alabama. When I say I grew up in the church, I mean it literally. Sundays began early and went late with many miles in between. We ate dinner after church with whoever had taken it upon themselves to feed the preacher that day. Dinner being the noon-time meal. Supper being the night-time meal. Those dinners were simple and divine. After dinner we went visiting - driving around and stopping by people's houses unannounced - which was not a problem back then. Many Sundays we went to afternoon and evening singings - sometimes more than one. The day ended after dark - far from home. And me in kindergarten - sleepy every Monday morning. There was Wednesday prayer meeting, too, and week upon week of revivals and singing schools during the summers. I had no idea other people just went to church on Sunday morning and were done with it. It just never occurred to me that we were unusual. And funerals - well that's another story for another time.
Honestly, I don't know how they did it. Mama held the homefront and Daddy was, as I said, busy. When he was home, he was preoccupied - rightly so. He had so many people who depended on him. And he was a good pastor. There for his people. I just wanted him to be there for me. Things changed about the time I became a teenager and, while he remained in ministry until the day he died, he shifted priorities and really did try to make up for some of the lost childhood time with me. I, however, had moved on. Figuratively. Somewhere along the way I had lowered my expectations and stopped needing his attention - so I thought. But he never stopped trying. He never stopped being my Daddy. Even when I pushed him away.
There is this one day frozen in memory. I was teaching school. It was after Mama died and he had taken to popping in to say hello. It was frustrating. He never went to the office to check in. He would just show up at my door. In the middle of class. Against the rules. I told him not to do that and he didn't listen to me. It was January and there came the knock followed by his face in the long narrow window. I was furious. I stomped over to the door and swung it open ready to blister him. Thank God I stopped before launching into my tirade because what happened next has defined not only his love for me but taught me more about God than I have learned in years of sermons. He grinned sheepishly, apologized for interrupting and pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "I'll let you get back to teaching... just wanted to say Happy Birthday." It was my birthday. I had forgotten. But there he was, showing up when he had been told to stay away. With flowers hidden behind his back. And I broke.
Here's the thing. My Daddy kept on coming. Interrupting my days and driving me crazy sometimes, but showing up time and time again. Often with something lovely behind his back... flowers, or lunch... uninvited and even unwelcome... showing up never the less.
And God. We push aside and stubbornly deny access to our lives. We are self-sufficient and independent. We don't need anybody or anything. Still he shows up. Pursuing beloved little old us. Bringing something lovely. Time and time again. Showing up and showing love to cold shoulders or angry outbursts. And sad little girls. Relentless. Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you, God. And thank you, Daddy, for a glimpse of this kind of love. Selah.
Reckless Love
Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me You have been so, so good to me Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me You have been so, so kind to me
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me You have been so, so good to me When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me You have been so, so kind to me
And oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine And I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
There's no shadow You won't light up Mountain You won't climb up Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down Lie You won't tear down Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up Mountain You won't climb up Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down Lie You won't tear down Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up Mountain You won't climb up Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down Lie You won't tear down Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up Mountain You won't climb up Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down Lie You won't tear down Coming after me
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine And I couldn't earn it, I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
Songwriters: Caleb Culver / Cory Asbury / Ran Jackson Reckless Love lyrics © Bethel Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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