Blog

Explore My News,
Thoughts & Inspiration

RSS Feed

mature for my age

I've shared my story. Or really, a few chapters of my story. The quest for sonship/adoption from the Father was a fight. It was a struggle to move past individuals who at various intervals, succeeded in impeding my attempts to achieve adoption. It sounds harsh. Well, it was harsh. I cannot apologize for the tone used here. This is my story. I am sticking to it.
This quest for sonship and adoption caused me to grow up. That is such a generality. I have felt so often that I was robbed of my youth. I lost my innocence. I lost all hope at being average, of this sense of normalcy. It crumbled into dust at my feet. At twelve, I had an effervescent spotlight cast upon me highlighting every single movement and action I took. I stood out on the front stage, alone and watched by the glistening eyes of the masses. 

I became a pastor's son. Stamped and label. Wearing the "Hello, my name is…" nametag perpetually. Their vigilant eyes always watching. Always waiting. Never blinking. 

I now had to fit someone's expectations.

I wanted to be normal. Average. Regular. Plain. I wanted out from the limelight. I felt bombarded with questions. Why did I have to be held to higher standards? Why couldn't I hangout with this group of friends? Why did I have to be active in serving t the church? Why did I have to be the first to participant? Why couldn't I say these phrases? Why couldn't I take about these books I read? Or movies I've watched? Why was everyone so uptight when I was around? Did I do something wrong? Why was there a look of disgust when I made a mistake? Was I a failure? Did I screw up so badly? Was I beyond forgiveness?

It always intrigued me how grace was extended to every other person and yet I seemed to be without. I would curse, get into a scuffle, or worse, had pierced in my ears. One single step out of line, and everyone knew. I was a poor example. Worse, my parents were seen as terrible role models. All because I had both ears pierced. What a joke! Or the time I obtained a Blink 182 album (I believe it was Enema of the State). Such uproar of disgust and horror was never heard before. By their standards, it was appalling. I was subsequently labeled, a bad seed. Whatever that means. Words.

I didn't fit the model. I was different. I never seemed to fulfill any of their expectations. I just seemed to fail. Came up short. Time and time again. Cyclical. You get the picture?

I tried to measure up, but always came short. Why was I different? I always wanted to know why.

The answers are never what you expect and subsequently, never what you want to hear. God has a knack for those sorts of answers. Simply stated, I was set apart. Beyond simplicity, I was being trained to pastor. I was being taught through situation and circumstance, how to extend grace to people who would much rather see me punished, than to be let off the hook. I learned how to love people despite their overbearing opinions and criticisms of what they thought about me. I learned how to be Christ in the midst of seekers. 

I didn't fit the model. Neither did he. I failed people's expectation. So did he. His story and mine intersect quite a lot. 

Being a pastor's son, taught me how to be more like Him than I would have ever believed. 

 
Who would have thought? I know I didn't.