Thursday, November 12, 2009

Why do you hate me

This morning my daughter said it again: "Why do you hate me?" Sometimes, I wish she'd say, "I hate you, Mom." It might be an easier statement to deal with. Her recurring question is a little like the catch 22, "When did you stop beating your wife?" Every time, I answer her, "I don't hate you. I love you." The enemy is speaking to my daughter, and I don't want his voice to stand without contest. I tell her the truth; she still has to choose what to believe.

When I have an imaginary conversation with my own mom about this morning's conversation, I think she would ask me, "What does Lizze really think? Does she really think you hate her?" My answer is that I think Lizze believes conflicting things. She knows that I love her, and I think sometimes she feels like I hate her.

I used to try to figure out what I "really" feel or think. With the wisdom of being forty, I now think that I believe conflicting things all the time. The fact that I am so conflicted, naturally and easily, is why ultimately I don't trust my own heart. God is my anchor, in the sense that I choose what He says about me over my own feelings. He says that I am a saint, He says that I am His treasure, He says that I am His friend, the sister of Christ, and a joint heir in Jesus. It is a life skill to believe the voice of God over the voice of the Destroyer, but the Bible also tells me that I know His voice. When I feel conflicted, I remind myself that I know the voice of God, and I quiet myself and listen for Him. Then when He speaks, I choose to believe what He says.

God speaks the truth to my children all the time, and I pray that they have ears to hear. I also pray that the words I say echo His voice in their lives. Sometimes its nice to have a little Jesus with skin on, especially when you are thirteen and your world is a whirlwind of emotional chaos.

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