I see a message from a young girl I taught over the summer, one who continues to seek out my help and attention despite the incredible distance. And one, to my shame, I do not have enough patience to help.
I look at Facebook and see that she has yet again sent me a message, this time complaining that I have not responded in a while.
“No,” I think. “I’m not going to respond to you. I’m busy.”
“Elewa, you must love her.” It was God’s voice.
I sigh, “God, you know how hard it is.”
“I know – but I can help you.”
I don’t respond, still trying to avoid looking at the still unread message on Facebook from her. “Alright, God,” I say finally, “how do I love her? What does it mean to love her?”
“Understanding – try to see the world how she sees it. She is frightened, she is looking for help. She sees My love in you – show her that.”
I sigh again. “I’ve tried, Father. But it’s wearing me down.”
“I know. But Elewa, you must love her, as I love her.”
I pause, thinking that one over. It’s true, God does love this girl. He doesn’t lose patience with her, and He sincerely wants her the same that he wants me, and every other person on this planet. But then I scoff, “It’s easy for You. You’re God.”
“And you are my daughter.” I’m silenced, shocked by the provocation that those words stirred in my heart. I felt shame, which faded away with Wisdom’s presence. It is true – I am God’s daughter. And I am called.
Like Father, like daughter, I suppose.