In January, snow and ice descended on Savannah. Camellia blossoms encased in ice encapsulated the unusual winter storm that shut our town down. Behold, God, full of creative wonder, sprinkling white beauty in the deep South!

 

Can you imagine the lofty Rocky Mountains encased in stifling heat and high humidity in mid-January? No? That’s about how strange it was to watch our Spanish moss be wrapped in an icy shawl and see photographs of white beach foam greeting white snow as the tides rolled in and out.

 

As February rolls in, I’m on the cusp of hip replacement surgery. Back in 2016, my right knee required a total knee replacement when doctors decided being bone-on-bone after an injury needed a helping hand. Now my left hip screams at me each day and night as the shriek of pain descends in my bones. Again, doctors concur. The hope comes from enduring more pain to get to less pain.

 

Preparing for my 2016 surgery, knowing I don’t tolerate pain meds well and don’t tolerate pain either, I knew I needed to think how to go forward. God offered a place of retreat for my mind while my body recuperated. The gift of that season involved a prolonged lingering on the names and character of God. When tears ran freely down my face as I took step after painful step, I named the names of God, calling to mind His goodness, faithfulness, and kindness. I rehearsed God, instead of rehearsing pain. When we behold God, the pain may not instantly fade, but the hope certainly grows.

 

In preparation for my 2025 surgery, God has offered a different focal point. It ties in with my question to God lately amid another prolonged season of suffering.

 

“God, how do You want to shape me for the year ahead?”

 

I have not been in search of a resolution, nor a goal, rather my desire centers on clarity. How I am to keep becoming more fully myself as God’s daughter? What am I being called to be? I’ve been listening for His response, waiting to hear.

Seeking His shape for me, silence remained. Sometimes God is slow to answer, isn’t He?

 

 

God’s Answer

Yet a memory surfaced recently, full of connected dots that revealed His desire in answer to my desire. Clear as stars on a cloudless night, this old memory created a picture in my mind. I felt like time stopped as I stepped back into a day long ago in Colorado.

 

Emerging from our then-neighborhood library, a lanky father held open the door for his gangly daughter. She glanced up at him, her face expectant. Too far away to hear their words, I witnessed a tender exchange.

 

He grinned at his daughter. She leaned in. He tousled her hair, playfully. She hugged him tight. Laugh lines formed around her eyes and his. They clearly exchanged endearing and humorous words.

 

Again, he spoke, an invitation, so it seemed, for she nodded. They took off running across the sidewalk on a brisk spring afternoon. Their gallop of joy, him setting the pace, her keeping up at times, then lagging behind, or playfully darting ahead, displayed all the antics of two seven-year-olds. They delighted in a frolicking moment together.

 

Continually, the father’s eyes gazed upon his daughter, enchanted with her. Most of the time her eyes tracked his, boldly confident in this love she knew so well.

 

They raced onward, his overcoat flapping, her scarf flapping also like a kite trailing up into the sky, their cheeks rosy in the brisk mountain air. His strides, long and sure, could easily outpace her shorter unsteady ones. He sprinted, challenging her to stretch forward. She rose to the challenge.

 

Then, she began to lag behind, distracted, discouraged, a bit undisciplined, or perhaps lazy.

 

It doesn’t stop him. He still runs forward full force yet always cheers her on. He looks back over his shoulder, waving her towards him. She surges onwards, keeping him in view. He ambles alongside her. She drops to a walk. He stops and waits, jogging in place. She laughs then springs forward. He rushes past her then pivots. In quick pursuit, he grabs her and whirls her in the air.

 

A good father offers invitations, over and over again. A loved daughter trustingly accepts, most of the time.

 

So clearly, this father loved his daughter. So clearly, this daughter loved her father.

Adored.

Beloved.

Cherished.

Delighted over.

Encouraged.

He gives. She receives. She gives. He receives.

 

 

The Belovedness God Wants for Me

There it was: the shape of what my good heavenly Father, my Abba, wants for me in the year ahead. No resolution. No goal. No new calling. No expansion of present callings.

 

Just clarification: He wants me to enjoy being His daughter. He wants me to enjoy Him being my Father.

 

He wants me to be shaped by belovedness. It shifts everything, this knowing beyond knowing that I am tenderly and tenaciously:

Adored. Beloved. Cherished. Delighted over. Encouraged.

 

He invites me onward. I lean into Him. He gazes lovingly, challenging me to go and be likewise.

Adored, I adore.

Beloved, I love.

Cherished, I cherish.

Delighted over, I delight.

Encouraged, I encourage.

So that’s the shape God wants for me: a daughter who is ever leaning in, feeling my Father’s tender adoration, following Him into the gallop of joy, into the challenge of a little more than I think I can handle. Sounds like the perfect focal point as pain stretches forth on my horizon, and healing holds my hope and heart as well.

 

He’s not going anywhere without me. Why would I go anywhere without Him?

 

I accept His invitation. I rehearse my belovedness. I declare my deep desire to be shaped by this vastly wild and wildly vast love. He’s quite something marvelous, this Tender and Tenacious Heavenly Father of mine.

 

From the sound ground of beholding God, knowing His character, I lean into my own belovedness. Like you, I am one who is adored, beloved, cherished, desired, and encouraged.

 

How about you?

    • How does God want to shape your sense of belovedness as this year unfolds?
    • What things do you engage in because you are beloved by God?
    • What would it look like to live more fully into your belovedness?
    • What helps you behold your belovedness?

 

 

Imaginative Prayer: A Resource for Beholding Your Belovedness

Imaginative prayer helps me behold my belovedness. I let the Lord speak to me through entering Scripture with my imagination. As I read through the passage, entering the story, I notice what character stands out to me then I put myself in their place. Reading the story from this perspective, I engage my senses as I enter the landscape. I hear the sounds. The wind rustles. The waves crash. I smell the aromas. Wood fires roast meat and bread. I taste the foods. The tartness of fresh herbs mingle with other local ingredients. I feel the roughness of my garments, the dustiness of earth in my sandals, the touch of another’s hands on my shoulders. I look at the people, the animals, the scenery, taking in colors, shapes, shadows, and light.

 

I allow God to speak to me as I notice what emotions, desires, thoughts, and memories arise. As the main person in the story or as an observer, I listen to what Jesus speaks, how He engages, what He says to me. In these personal exchanges within a Scripture story, I behold how beloved I am.

So that you can explore the wonder of Imaginative Prayer, I’ve created a free resource to lead you through this way of communicating with God. May you keep on beholding your belovedness as you enter this way of Imaginative Prayer.

 

Other Resources to Explore Your Belovedness

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