Notes of Faith July 6, 2025
Information About God
Pales Next to Intimacy With Jesus
John was a torch, blazing and bright, and you were glad enough to dance for an hour or so in his bright light. But the witness that really confirms Me far exceeds John’s witness. It’s the work the Father gave Me to complete. These very tasks, as I go about completing them, confirm that the Father, in fact, sent Me. The Father who sent Me, confirmed Me. And you missed it. You never heard His voice, you never saw His appearance. There is nothing left in your memory of His Message because you do not take His Messenger seriously. You have your heads in your Bibles constantly because you think you’ll find eternal life there. But you miss the forest for the trees. These Scriptures are all about Me! And here I am, standing right before you, and you aren’t willing to receive from Me the life you say you want. — John 5:35-40 The Message
When I brought my daughter Missy home from Haiti, following our two-year adoption journey, my counselor said what Missy needed was safety and security. She explained that the most effective way for me to communicate love to her was through consistency, patience, and gentle physical touch. Then she reasoned that while Missy displayed a healthy level of dependence on me because of my regular visits to spend time with her in Haiti during our adoption process, her overall wariness would likely linger for a while since her first four years of life were riddled with abandonment and abuse. Her little heart needed time to trust that I wouldn’t leave her too.
The first night we got home we were both so exhausted after getting up in the middle of the previous night and trekking from the orphanage to the Port-au-Prince airport, then on to the Miami airport, then through Customs, then through an intense international adoption interrogation mandated by the Department of Homeland Security, then back through security in Miami, and on to the Nashville airport, then walking down the C concourse to a raucous group of one-hundred-plus dear friends who were waiting for us outside of baggage claim, and finally home to our little farmette south of Nashville that I don’t remember much about that first bedtime. However, the second night I was getting Missy settled into her bed, I began rubbing her rough little feet with shea butter (she went barefoot a lot in Haiti, and her precious feet were covered with cracks and callouses) while she watched me solemnly with her big brown eyes.
Then I laid down beside her and said, “Missy, ou tr’ belle. Ou tré’ brv. Ou tré’ in’teləjənt,” which is Creole — her native language — for Missy, you’re very beautiful. You’re very brave. You’re very intelligent. After which I said softly, “Missy, manmanw renmenw anpil anpil bət Jezi renmen w plis,” which is Creole for Mama loves you very, very much, but Jesus loves you even more.
Night after night I repeated those phrases while rubbing my baby girl’s feet with shea butter. For the first two weeks, Missy couldn’t look at me while I spoke. She’d literally turn her head in the opposite direction and sometimes almost imperceivably shake her head back and forth, as if respectfully disagreeing with the affirmations I was speaking over her. Which made sense because I’m sure no one at the orphanage told her she was beautiful or brave or intelligent. In fact, one of the nannies there confided in me that Missy would never be able to read or write, and I should just be grateful she had the mental capacity to sing. I was stunned that insensitive woman couldn’t see the miracle right in front of her eyes — how an innocent toddler who’d lost her birth mom and was sick with tuberculosis and barely able to breathe for years, who also suffered from severe malnutrition and had a growling stomach for most of her young life, who was finally sent to a “safe” orphanage where she had to endure regular beatings by cruel “caretakers”, still had enough tenacious hope to sing in such deplorable conditions. My beautiful, brave, intelligent daughter defied odds that many adults would deem insurmountable.
By the third week, Missy began to glance in my direction when I was telling her how beautiful and brave and smart she was but would quickly turn away before I got to the part where I told her how much I loved her and how Jesus loved her even more. After an entire month of the exact same affectionate and affirming bedtime ritual, Missy finally held my gaze throughout the massage and recitation. When I finished with the usual benediction of I love you very, very much, but Jesus loves you even more, she questioned me softly: “Mama love Missy?” My heart leapt over the sweet wonder in her tone, and my eyes filled with tears. Everything in me wanted to scoop her up and hug her fiercely, but something in me knew that she needed a response, so without breaking eye contact, I replied, “Oh, honey, I love you more than I know how to explain. I didn’t even know that I could love someone this much until I became your second mama. In fact, I think I’ve broken a few ribs because my heart is so crammed full of love for you that it had to expand in my chest!”
She giggled shyly over my ardent response and rotated her entire body toward me until we were facing each other in that tiny twin bed. Then with a twinkle in her eyes, she proclaimed with matching enthusiasm, “Mama love Missy!” Her question became a declaration. A few seconds later, that miracle child of mine inched her perfect brown toes up my belly until she found a crease I’ve christened “the valley of affection.” I grew it out of profound love for this daughter I don’t deserve — and because I assumed the calories in all those Chick-fil-A waffle fries I’d been wolfing down since bringing her home wouldn’t count since it’s a Christian-owned company! She purposely poked all ten toes into my tummy crack and let out a heavy sigh, then her eyelids started to flutter and right before giving way to slumber she murmured contently, “Mama love Missy.”
I spent decades assuming mature Christianity was primarily about ethics, exegesis, and effective apologetics.
It took heartbreak, failure, disappointment, and ultimately the miracle of becoming Missy’s mama for me to finally realize that biblically sound theology is much more about intimacy with Jesus than just cognitive information about God and His Word.
I’ve come to wholeheartedly agree with what theologian Francis Schaeffer wisely wrote: “Biblical orthodoxy without compassion is surely the ugliest thing in the world.” Yet I also believe when Christ-followers lean fully enough into the unconditional love of our Creator Redeemer that we’re able to stick our proverbial toes into the crevasse of His kindness, it will enable us to leak transformative grace into this great, big, beautiful ~ albeit broken ~ world that we call home for now.
Written for Devotionals Daily by Lisa Harper, author of A Jesus-Shaped Life Study Guide.
Intimacy with Jesus has become my greatest heart’s desire. I continue to search the Scriptures, learn, study, pray for growth toward spiritual maturity but more than these I want a moment by moment rich and full life with Christ my Savior. I pray that this might be your desire as well…not just to know about, but to know what it means to dwell in His presence at all times!
Pastor Dale
