That Doesn’t Sound Like My Daddy

The clank of shattering glass sent her racing out of the room.

I turned from the stove where I was stirring dinner and surveyed the mess. A puddle of apple juice and scattered slivers of glass were all that was left of the “big girl cup” my littlest one had been holding.

After I cleaned up the mess, I went looking for my daughter. I found her huddled in her usual “hiding place.” Crammed behind the tall white dresser in the corner of her bedroom and the pale yellow wall, she looked like a tiny tangle of limbs and tears.

I dropped to my knees and crawled into the corner. Then, peered into the shadowed space where she sat.

“Why are you hiding?” I asked.

“Because Daddy will be mad I broke my big girl cup,” my three-year-old replied with a dramatic sniffle.

I stared at my littlest girl for a long moment and swallowed a giggle. The words “mad” and “dad” don’t even belong in the same sentence at our house. My husband’s character is one of gentle presence and steady grace. He isn’t prone to anger or inclined to impatience. He rarely shouts and seldom raises his voice. He is patient and forgiving, good-humored and calm.

I studied my daughter’s pouting lips and sagging shoulders and tried to formulate a wise reply.

But before I could even respond, her big sister looked up from the book she was reading on the floor a few feet away. And with a roll of her big blue eyes, she declared, “That doesn’t sound like my Daddy!”

I flashed my ten-year-old a knowing nod and spoke to the tear-stained face behind the dresser. “Your Daddy’s never been mad about a broken glass before,” I assured this baby of five. “I think he’ll just be glad you didn’t get hurt when you ran across the kitchen floor with your bare feet.”

I reached my hand around the dresser and tugged my hiding one out into the light again. I rocked her in my lap and planted a kiss on her tousled hair. And with whispered words, I gently reminded her who I know her Daddy to be.

By the time my husband got home from work that evening, our littlest girl had traded her anxiety for relief. And those feet that had carried her into hiding propelled her into her Daddy’s arms as he walked through the door.

I hate to admit it, but there are times when I act like that little girl behind the dresser. I know my Heavenly Father loves me and is for me. I know He is faithful and He is kind. But sometimes when I am sitting in my own space of disappointment and discouragement, frustration and fear, I give in to the temptation to paint God through the filter of my feelings.

When my unanswered prayers leave me feeling frustrated and sad, I may tell myself that God is not even listening.

When the circumstances around me are messy and broken, I may entertain the narrative that God isn’t at work in my situation.

When I’m faced with the ache of loss or the pain of shattered dreams, I may tell myself that God doesn’t care.

It’s in those moments when my feelings trump the truth that I need a voice to counter my faulty claims.

That’s why I open God’s word when my own heart is hurting, and I ask the Holy Spirit to speak louder than my doubts and clearer than my confusion.

Like my daughter who interrupted her little sister’s pouting party, the story of scripture gently calls me back to the heart of my Heavenly Father. It reminds me who God has always been and who He will always be.

When I tell myself He doesn’t care, I Peter 5:7 declares, “[That doesn’t sound like my Daddy!] Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”

When I dare to believe He’s stopped working in my circumstances, Romans 8:28 announces,
“[That doesn’t sound like my Daddy!] God makes all things work together for the good of those who love Him and are chosen to be a part of His plan.”

When I entertain the notion that God’s not listening, Psalm 66:19 shouts, “[That doesn’t sound like my Daddy!] But it is sure that God has heard. He has listened to the voice of my prayer.”

This is how we grow to know and trust our Father. We open our Bibles and let His word whisper expressions of His character and confessions of His consistency.

When we’re standing in the gap between what we feel in our heart and what we know of God’s, His Word bridges the distance between us.

This is how we move from the cramped shadows of hiding to the wide expanse of trust.

So, friends, next time you find yourself questioning God’s goodness or doubting His faithfulness, mistrusting his kindness or disbelieving His mercy, turn to scripture and ask the Holy Spirit to tell you about your Daddy.

Keep a list of verses that declare who God is. Learn His names and treasure the truth they reveal about His nature. Consider His character and remember He always remains the same (Hebrews 13:8).

Then let the God who never changes meet you right where you are.

And when your aching soul intersects with his steadfast heart, don’t be surprised if you’re joyfully drawn to His open arms. Because the Daddy I know loves you more than life itself, and He’ll always catch when you come running.

Thanks for spending time here today. We hope you’ll be encouraged as you linger in this place. We’d love to celebrate our Daddy together! Drop a word in the comments and let us know what you appreciate most about your Heavenly Father right now. And don’t hesitate to let us know how we can pray for you as September begins.

If you’d like stay connected, feel free to join our community and receive encouragement in your inbox now and then. You can also find more encouragement at Proverbs 31. Today, I’m there sharing a devotion about trusting God.

And, finally, click here for a free resource to help you cultivate intimacy with God. Because we can only trust the God we know.

Until Next Time—