I sat on a worn couch in the living room, listening to him tell stories about the children he and his wife had fostered over the past sixteen years. They had dedicated their lives to caring for children with special needs, who were cast out by their own families, and would be a challenge for other foster families in the area. Through his stories, I couldn’t help but notice the profoundly deep love he had for the children that had passed through his home.

“We had a boy once that couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk, couldn’t feed himself. He was dependent on us for everything. He could not give me anything—not even a smile most of the time. But I loved that little boy. In fact, I think—although I shouldn’t have favorites, I know—I think that he was the one out of all of the children we’ve had that I loved the most. 

“He helped me to understand, more than anyone else ever has, the love that the Father has for me. He could give me nothing, could do nothing for me, but I loved him just because…he was.  I would hold him in my arms, pleased to just look at him and hold him.”

Tears came to his eyes as he continued. “And that’s when I realized that I am just like him. I can do nothing, say nothing, give nothing really at all to my Father except to just be. But he takes such delight in me—that’s all he needs.”

Since that evening, I haven’t been able to escape this image—held in the safety of my Father’s arms, loved, treasured, delighted in, simply because I was. I catch myself trying sometimes to keep up the antics, to make myself worthy, to do something to earn His favor. I try to fool myself into thinking that I am not completely dependent on Him, as if self-sufficiency would make me more. What He wants, though, is just me, and His love is so complete that there is nothing I could do to make Him love me more than He already does. I am a child of His delight, completely, fully, eternally—and He is content to simply look at me, hold me, and love.