Last Sunday the pastor walked up to the pulpit ready to begin his sermon. Knowing he was only going to speak in Spanish, I was debating whether to channel all my attention and translate in my head or relax, sit back, and let the Spanish roll right over my "gringa" head. Before I could decide, the translator took her seat right beside me, and soon I knew why.
The sermon was on loving God as our heavenly Daddy, a topic I rarely consider but one that carries such importance. And while the translator continued to speak, my mind went back to our ministry of the last few days.
Every day I've been going to the hospital in Antigua for patients with cerebral palsy. These patients are abandoned and don't have any families, much less a dad. On Friday I had been playing with a girl who was tied to her bed for over half an hour, struggling to make her smile. The nurses had said that while she couldn't speak, she could still understand. Remembering what they said, I looked at her and said, "Your heavenly Daddy, God, loves you so much," and a smile crept across her face.
And as I zoned back into the sermon, I began to cry. Our heavenly Father is our Daddy, is their Daddy.
He will always protect us.
He will never leave us.
He loves us eternally.
Some people have damage from fathers, while some, like these patients, don't even have any. And while they may not have a dad here on earth, they are so loved by their Father in Heaven.
And as my last tear fell onto my Bible, the love of the best Daddy we could ever have covered me, a love that, unlike this world, will never fade.
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