Do You Still Love Me?
Children are a gift from the Lord;
they are a reward from him.
Children born to a young man
are like arrows in a warrior’s hands.
Psalm 127:3-4
Pierced like a needle through fabric, did my daughter’s words to my heart. Her eyes were welling with tears.
“Do you still love me?”
Words I never expected to hear from my toddler. No parenting class, book, or advice prepared me to hear these words.
We had just had to have a tough conversation about listening and our consequences when we choose not to, so we had to skip book reading this particular night.
The toddler stage is not for the faint of heart. Joy can turn to frustration in the matter of breaths. Next to marriage, parenting is the hardest thing I do. The delicate line between discipline and disgrace is incredibly thin.
The call of parents is to teach truth and instill values into their child. Unfortunately, our world is full of enabling and “gentle” parents who do more damage to a kid’s future than one may realize. The desire to “affirm” and to be more of a friend than a parent has poisoned many lives.
The difficulty of parenting is delicately shaping and molding a child’s identity and worldview. Parenting is a divine calling and cannot be taken lightly.
To shape and mold, parents must use correction. Without love, correction can be communicated as condemnation. And the enemy’s speak a language of condemnation.
As parents, God has entrusted an eternal soul to be nurtured and cared for by you. No parent is perfect, of course, but we should be reminded of this eternal weight.
But to look into my little girl’s eyes, where I worry the enemy has spoken lies already to her tender, innocent heart. Lies that she isn’t good enough. Lies that she needs to earn mine and others’ love. Lies that she wasn’t worthy of love. Lies that her mistakes means she’s a failure.
My fear was that somehow I had convinced her that my love is conditional.
I found myself pausing for a minute, trying to find the words that could erase whatever worry or fear that gripped her heart. Her eyes downcast, eyes welling, and posture distraught.
I took a breath. I asked her to look me in the eyes, I grabbed her hands, and looked her in the eyes, hoping these words didn’t fall on deaf ears.
“I want you to know something. Nothing you do could ever make me love you more, and nothing you do could ever make me love you less. I love you very much, and I am grateful God chose me to be your dad.”
Parenting has taught me so much about the heart of the Father to His children. In that moment, I would do anything to relieve her of this fear and for her to understand my boundless love for her.
All I could do was to give her a tender hug to remind her of my presence and commitment to her.
That is what authentic parenting resembles. It’s not about being perfect but battling fear with love, worry with hope, and doubt with presence.
The enemy hates families, especially those who seek to honor God. I know a battle is being waged against my family every day.
There is no perfect parent, but I want my daughter to know my love is not conditional, just like the Father. And His love is for you as well.
I haven’t done this in a while, but I think it is appropriate.
My challenge is for you to talk, text, or write to AT LEAST 3 people to express how much they mean to you. Our minds are battling identity and self-worth enough; let’s send some love to those in our lives.