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I had a snag on the inside of a fingernail. The bit that really stings whenever you catch it.  And then it became inflamed. So on with Savlon and plasters.  Modern day miracles to cure modern-day ills.  But science wasn’t curing and my finger was now throbbing.

I never much liked my grandmother on my mother’s side. She made our lives hell. I have no idea why and no one ever told.  She died when I was young enough to be glad rather than sad.

One of the reasons?  Her saltwater cure.  Her saltwater cure was detested by all of us.

A cup of very hot water – in the zone where permanent scalding is a probability.  And loads of salt.  A throbbing finger then lowered with much wincing.  She swore by it and insisted we did as well – we did.  We all swore every time!

And I swore again as I filled a cup with hot water.  Added loads of salt.  Lowered a throbbing finger.

This time my decision. This time with an appreciation of the science involved rather than just a towering tyrant of a grandmother.  A week later my finger is returning to normal.

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Before our first child was born we bought every book we could find on childcare and development.  We became parenting experts even before our child was born.  We used those books in the first years of his life.

We had no idea what we were doing!

Four children later I think those books served a purpose but are not about parenting at all.  They quickly became an obstacle between us.  I was outflowing with knowledge, but never thought “to be”.  I was scared of not being good enough and was indeed “not good enough” – the books said so.   And along the way I learned that  parenting is not about when but about “now”.

Like the “now” of 3.00am when all the advice in the world sucks!  When all the experts are safely tucked up in their own beds.  Beds paid-for by us!   And us wide awake and at our wits-end at 3.00am with a child that will not be comforted.

Our children have the “advantage” of Google nowadays.  Instant “expert” knowledge.  particularly at 3.00am (and every other hour)!   24/7 available “the perfect” we all say we have now found (and you should too).

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I came to “God” as an enthusiastic child and was taught how to be a sensible grown-up.  I think it is true of all faiths: “God” seeks a child and “we” give him a grown-up.  And then we grown-ups want to be a child again.  But we can’t.  There are too many rules. Too much bible. Too many grown-ups.  Too much fear.

And I wonder again.  Is our love really fear?

Is it because love is too forgiving?  Is it because we (really) think that love must be earned?  Do we prefer the control of religion because we fear “the being” of being loved without condition?  Fear so much that “we” must decide who is saved and who is not – who is (really) in and who is (really) not – who is (really) loved and who is (really) not?

Is that why we dare not shred the bible and just “connect”?   Is that why all these ologies and isms – denominations – god qualifications … ?

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Is the mission of disciple-making more of the same?  Making sure “they” turn out just like they should – someone “God” would be proud to call his own?

Or might a good disciple be one freed of fear?  The fear of not being good enough, perfect enough, knowledgeable enough?

God doesn’t counsel me, nor mentor me, nor guide me, nor reprimand me, nor all of that expected stuff. 

He shreds the bible for me.  He rips up the rulebook for me.   He is there at 3.00am.  And he is not Google.  He connects in the moment.  In the present whenever I call in the present.  He doesn’t feed me solutions, he feeds me love.  He doesn’t fear me leaving him – that is not who he is.

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This is who he is.

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And all those little fellas drawing lines … ?

Those are me … what I was taught.

Sin.  Sex.  Swearing.  Drinking.  Sloth.  Addiction.  Fear.  Religion.  Pass or fail.  Gay people.  Black people.  Different people.  Different faiths.  Different lifestyles.  Fear.  Different points in different journeys.  Fear.  Not fitting in.  Fear.  Not being good enough.  Fear.  Not knowing how.  Fear.  Not doing enough.  Fear.  Not being enough.  Fear.    

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When he said “love” …

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He means it.

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