Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Devotionals for the Heart: Superhero


Finding our Superhero
A devotional by Sharon Musgrove

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” 
–Romans 8:37 (ESV)

When I was a little girl, my Dad was my superhero. He was the kind of individual who held the attention of a crowded room with his storytelling and boisterous laugh. He was big in stature with a deep, radio-worthy voice.

When we had company over, I would watch our guests, who, like me, were captivated by him. At the dinner table, I would sit in awe, feeling a sense of pride that this man was my dad. If I was the daughter of a superhero, then somehow, I was a superhero too.

As years passed, my big blue eyes saw more of the true picture of my father’s lifestyle. It began with separation. His job took him away from home for long periods of time. When he was home, he was too tired to engage. His income did not stretch far enough to cover the bills, and he was stressed. The booming voice, too often, thundered at mom, my sisters or me.

I have vivid memories of trying to engage my Hercules in play. I’d run grab the props he’d used previously to illustrate the stories of the golden days, only to be a distraction against the winning streak of the San Francisco 49ers.

As I grew, my hero withered, and along with him, my confidence in family, authority figures and, ultimately my self-worth. I was not the daughter of a superhero. Therefore, neither was I to be super.

My story is a common one. Your story might be a lot like mine. The more I talk about my childhood disappointments, the more I realize how many of us have experienced parallel events and feel a similar sadness. Self-esteem has been hard to come by for those of us who believed in the myths of our making.

But there is another story at play, a true chronicle, in which there is a superhero!

Romans 8:37 uses a term that is found only once in the entire Bible. According to Strong’s Concordance, this Greek word is hupernikaó. It’s prefix “huper” is translated “hyper” or “exceedingly,” while the root, “nikaó” means “conquer.” Many versions of the Bible, like the English Standard Version, translate hupernikaó as the phrase “more than conquerors.” But I think it’s no stretch to say this verse could be written: No, in all these things we are super-conquerors through Him who loved us.

Does this excite you like it excites me? My child’s heart reawakens to the dreams I once had! That little girl, sitting at the table, looking doe-eyed at daddy, thought she might just be super too.

This verse says it is we who are the super-conquerors through Him who loved us! Not we alone, but through Him ... or because of Him, who loved us first. God gave us a way, via Jesus Christ, to be His partner in victory.

All I wanted, as a kid, was to be my Daddy’s sidekick. I wanted him to be Superman so that I could be his Supergirl. Together we would fight against the foes of tribulation and distress, or mortgages and medical bills, or hunger and homelessness.

God wants to show me the Superhero He can’t help but be, and He wants me to be His partner. It begins with unity.

Romans 8:38-39 (ESV) goes on to say, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Our Heavenly Father has been reassuring us that He’s not leaving, He’s not too tired, and we’ve won the war! It’s no myth, I am super ... dear sibling in Christ, we are super ... because the Greatest Power made us to work alongside Him. Unified, we are marvels moving mountains in God’s Kingdom!


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Author Bio:

Sharon Musgrove is a self-proclaimed sociologist. The opportunities opened to her, over the years, have led her on a fascinating journey observing human behavior. 


She has a diverse background in business, fitness and health industries. This background led her to a unique position writing curriculum and teaching for two private, Christ-based, residential recovery programs. Both recovery programs served women primarily from the homeless community.

Sharon has traveled multiple times to Kenya, serving on medical teams and teaching in the rural Maasai communities. She's been privileged to participate in Leadership camps for maturing young women. These annual camps have a mission of encouraging and empowering the impoverished, underprivileged, and often abused young Maasai girls.

Easily identifying personally with the brokenness of the women she's served, Sharon now sees all people as needing more encouragement regardless of cultural or socioeconomic status. Within these ministries, Sharon has witnessed the transformative power of loving words spoken to the broken-hearted. Sharing God’s love and witnessing its transformative power has become her passion.

In her leisure time, Sharon enjoys her garden, health food, travel and a good story. She and her husband, Jeff, make their home in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. They have two grown children. Currently, Sharon is writing her first Christian historical fiction novel utilizing her study, experience, and understanding of self-destructive behaviors.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Devotional by Mary Manners: Boundaries

Let's welcome my good friend Mary Manners to the blog today! She's here to share another devotional that she wrote. 

The title of today's devotional is, "Boundaries," and it is quite appropriate. You'll understand why when you read the story from Mary's childhood experience. I will give you a clue: it involves a child testing the boundaries (given to her by her dad) when she receives a brand new bike.

Enjoy your time with Mary! :)

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Boundaries
A devotional written by Mary Manners

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.”~ Psalm 143:8, NIV 


My seventh birthday was a momentous occasion mainly because in my family, turning seven meant I was sure to receive what I imagined, in my child’s mind, to be the greatest gift of all—a shiny new bike.

It was a beauty—a splash of bubblegum pink with streamers flowing from curved handlebars. Pedal brakes and a chunky banana seat rounded out the mix. One look and I knew that suddenly I had my freedom, my independence, and the power to travel all the way to…the end of the block. It was better than the confines of our meager, chain-linked back yard. I grew up in Chicago, after all, and the streets could be a dangerous place.

My dad taught me how to ride. An hour, a few scrapes and bumps later, and I was ready to go. No helmets back then and no fancy riding gear…just the wind at my back and pure pedal power. Dad outlined the riding boundaries, cautioning me not to cross the street at either end of the block or the alley that ran behind our house. Cars were dangerous.

Dad’s firm warning rang through my mind for the first week or so, at least until my sister challenged me to a race around the block. We’d ride off in opposite directions, keeping our progress top-secret, until one of us returned to the starting line—and victory—at the front of our house.

Guilt nagged as I launched myself, pedaling into the wind. To circle the block and claim my victory I’d have to cross the alley twice, breaking my dad’s rule. Yet, the desire to be one of the ‘Big Kids’ along with my sister only served to make me pedal faster. The sky smiled clear-blue as the streets whispered encouragement. What could possibly go wrong?

Closing in on the alley, I picked up speed. The faster I crossed, the faster I would be done. No sound of an engine, nary a car in sight. Perfect until…
Crash!

My gaze kissed the cerulean sky as the front tire of my bike plowed a canyon into the passenger door of an approaching Chevy station wagon. I sailed over the hood to sprawl, several yards beyond, across the unyielding concrete.

Needless to say, in the time it took for the frantic driver to scoop me off the cement, I knew that I suffered a much worse fate than losing the race to my sister. I’d broken my father’s steadfast rule. There was no choice but to return home and confess my transgression. The evidence was clearly etched over my cheeks…and my knees…and across my throbbing elbows.

But, just as it is with my Heavenly Father, Dad was more concerned about my welfare than my transgression. He cleaned my wounds and we had a long talk. Dad repaired my bike and eventually my bruises—both physical and emotional—healed.

I learned a valuable lesson that day, one that remains with me decades later.

Boundaries are set for a reason—not to confine but to protect with the deepest love. Yet, even when our free will takes us across a dangerous road or down a shadowed alley, God our Father welcomes us home with open arms and forgiveness. When we stray, we must remember that God is waiting for our return with open arms. No sin or transgression can separate us from Him.