On Waves and Daddies {Father's Day}

There is a reason I love this picture.  It was taken in  New Smyrna Beach, Florida in 1991. I was all of four years old. My father was teaching me a lesson tht has echoed throughout the rest of my life. I remember vividly the way he coaxed me out into the Atlantic, not content to let my worries keep me by the shore. There were forward steps I took myself; there were steps I was carried. Every time a wave came, my daddy would grab me by the hands and lift me straight up and over it, with my legs kicking the entire time, terrified he wouldn't lift me quite high enough to clear the water. Already plagued by a mind perpetually asking, What if? Every wave, every time...me flailing, my daddy saying, Lauren, I won't let you go under.  When I got too scared, he would have to pick me up and just hold me while the waves broke at his knees.  I don't think the story of Jesus calling Peter to walk on water was yet etched into my mind, but this memory will stay forever.

This is how I learned to believe in my heavenly Father, a Father who never lets the waves overtake me but who is never content to let me spend my days making sand castles on the shoreline. It's a lesson He has taught me again and again, as the lifter of my head (Psalm 3:3) takes my face in His hands, and calls me to lift my gaze from the crashing waves to His steady grip on me. In a still, small voice, He says, Lauren, I won't let you go under. 

Sometimes it feels dangerously close.  The chaos makes me want to flail and kick and try with all my might to jump as high as I can over a wave I've already been lifted over.
That's why singing "Oceans" as a solo resonated so powerfully with me last year:
"You call me out upon the water, the great unknown, where feet may fail...
So I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace, for I am Yours, and You are mine."

He is ever beckoning me into deeper waters, calling me to untold adventures I don't want to miss for the fear that would keep me planted firmly in the sand.

Everyone's story is different.  I'm eternally grateful this Father's Day for my daddy who continues to lift me up.  When I write about him, my words are usually wholly devoted to his greatest qualities.  What I am realizing as I get older is that his imperfection is one of the qualities I'm most grateful for.  Of course he was never a perfect father, nor would he ever claim to be.  Because I am eerily similar to him, I am thankful he taught me even the best daddies (and people) aren't perfect.  He taught me how to walk humbly, how to recover from mistakes, and how to ask for forgiveness, even (especially) from a child.  Most importantly, he gave me a front-row seat as the power of God's grace transformed his life.  He taught me how sinners like us find redemption.

Maybe today you are celebrating with your dad, or like my husband and many close friends, celebrating your dad who has already gone home to be with the Lord.  Perhaps, you don't have memories of an earthly father who has lifted you up, and this isn't even a day you want to think about.  I don't know where you are.  What I do know is that you have a Heavenly Father, a Father to the fatherless [Psalm 68:5].  He has strong hands, hands that hold the world, and He is ready to pick you up out of the waves breaking over your head.