What if You were my Daughter?

“They got what’s coming to them,” the man says. “People make choices, you know!”

I sometimes struggle to find balance between mercy and responsibility. The Scriptures make it very clear that God is a merciful God, but also a God who calls us to choose well, and He will allow the consequences of our choices, good or bad.

So let’s let people suffer, right?

Right.

Until God’s still small voice asks, “What if she was your daughter?”

It’s early morning, dark and five degrees outside, and she is walking all alone, bundled up, but frozen to the core.

What if you were my daughter?

If you were mine, I would come alongside you, giving you a ride first of all. Only later would I address wisdom in life and finances.

Love opens the door.

And when I knock on Marie’s door for our scheduled coffee time together, she mistrustingly opens the door ever so slightly to make sure I am alone.

What if you were my daughter, Marie?

I would simply make sure you know that you are safe with me. My steadfast love would be the ointment needed to remove suspicion.

Love heals.

Zoe, she’s got four loads of laundry, two crying toddlers, no husband, a bathroom that reeks of pee, and deep black circles under her eyes.

What if you were mine, Zoe?

I would fold your clothes, love on your babies, scrub your bathroom and give you a very needed break.

Love understands.

And Olivia, she is so terrified of the silence that she speaks a mile a minute, making herself unlikable to all.

Olivia, what if you were my daughter?

I would let you speak until you run out of words, Sweet Olivia, until you run into peace.

Love loves.

Love teaches.

 

 

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