Prayer - God's Children

God,

We are all your children.

As parent, you love us not by our choice. We didn’t go looking for you, making things happen to have a relationship with you. You did it through Jesus. We were, each of us, orphans looking after our own needs, wandering around, hungry, and displaced. We weren’t well kept, maybe a little dishevelled with mud on our face. You found us, took us into your home and made us your dearly beloved ones. In fact, you made your home within us. You created a safe place and shelter in our hearts, a place of freedom from those who wish to rob our souls, take advantage or harm us.

This orphanage of our hearts is not like the ones you hear about or see in old movies. In the home of our hearts where you dwell, you love us not based on our behaviours. You don’t cast us away, send us out into the cold dark night when we fail, mess up, don’t get things right. You maintain constant contact with us. You want us to turn and learn better ways, but you do so with your loving arms always around us. Though we may kick and scream at you, demand what we want, you hold on tight not loving us any less. At those moments you don’t feel embarrassed, hoping no one is looking and saying, “Is that really your child?” You still see us as your dearly beloved, beautiful creations.

You love us not based on our looks or abilities. In a world that judges based on how good we are at something or what we achieve, you love us apart from all that. We sometimes get down on ourselves because we don’t measure up, have it all together. You don’t go the pathway of shame. In fact, you route for the underdog, the one who trips and falls down, lacks coordination.

You love us when we are not well. When our noses run, we drool, or are dirty.

You show no favouritism to your children, preferring one to another.

You love us when we don’t understand, fail to grasp, lack the insight to know which we to go.

We squabble, showing rivalry at times. Yet, you don’t stay at the office avoiding our mess. You continue with us that we may be gathered together in harmony and love. You don’t send one of us off to a distant relative in hopes of some greater peace in the family. You maintain your loving ever-present contact with each of us.

You are particularly close to us when we fall down and are hurt, or when we are wounded by others.

The greatest gift to us has been, is and will be your search for us. Like an adoptive child, you came for us. While we were powerless, you arrived on the scene. We didn’t make things happen with you, but you made things happen with us, loving us the moment you saw us. This type of love will continue.

You are El Shaddai, the God who draws near, the God of the breast.

You are a Father with space, time, and energy for each of us, a life of constant one-on-one outings with you.

You are the One who shelters us in the shadows of your wings.

You gather us as a mother hen gathers her chicks.