I have always maintained that it is hard to be a spiritual writer because we are, in a sense, reducing things magnificent and eternal to something as paltry as human language.
It is hard indeed, to not be the butcher of all things divine, when we are working with such incredible limitations and today's topic is no exception.
I have not written in some time partially because I am falling in love right now, and as you well know, this commands almost all of a man's resources and time, and also because I have wished to do such a great idea, some measure of justice.
About seven months ago, I had an encounter with the Lord, where I saw a vision of my daughter, almost exactly as she looks today. When I saw her, I was filled with so much joy it was overwhelming. I felt like God told me that the depression that I have struggled with on and off over the years, would be taken from me through the birth of my daughter.
The next day Lizeth came to me not knowing about what I had seen and told me that we should name the baby Abigail if it was a girl...and that it meant, "father's joy".
Dostoevsky once said that "the soul is healed by being with children." The other night while I was holding her, I could feel it, I could really feel the healing happening. I could actually sense her little frame healing my wounded heart. It was as if the love and the warmth God was filling my heart with was searching out the recesses of my heart and taking from it all those remaining pains and disappointments which have held so tightly on over the years.
It is humbling, I think, for a grown man to be so weakened by a creature so small and unassuming; but it is healing me. It is taking from me the ego that demands to be validated, and the pain that demands to be masked. In their stead it is giving me one of those few substances that will remain for all of eternity: love (I Cor 13:13).
I am looking forward to thanking my daughter in the years to come for the ministry she has done to me. Jesus said, that we could not enter the kingdom except a man become like her, so I am learning from her. I am learning those rudimentary qualities necessary to "enter the Kingdom." I am learning from her how to be gentle and open; she is teaching me to trust without reservation, and perhaps most importantly, she is teaching me about my utter dependency on God for my most basic of needs.
I am experiencing what theologians have called a "great exchange", that is, that Isaiah 61 experience, exchanging our ashes for a crown of beauty, our mourning for his joy, a spirit of despair for a garment of praise. This exchange is most certainly from God, but it has come to me through this tiny vessel, truly, "God has chosen the weak things of this world".
It is almost as if he gave these things to her while she was being "woven together in the depths of the earth," and said, "here...give these to your dad."