The One He Loves


Growing up, my elementary best friend was our pastor’s daughter of a very large church. Everyone knew who she was and treated her special because of it. My best friend all throughout middle and high school had the best dad ever. He was a very prestigious and well known businessman in our area. He taught me what it meant to be respected by men, and he was the first inkling of what it could be like to be fully loved by a father. He taught me how to wash cars and that I should be treated like a princess. I’m so thankful for him.

But he wasn’t my dad. And if I’m honest, there were so many times I wished he was.  

A few months ago I had a dream that wrecked me to my core. It changed me forever. I’ll never be the same.  


In the dream, I was at our church that we attend now. Everyone was scurrying around, you could hear the buzz among everyone, because Tim Tebow was there. I remember not being too impressed. 

I have this thing with famous people. They put their pants on just like I do every morning, they’re normal people just like me, so I don’t get too worked up about them. It’s not to say the anointing on their life shouldn’t be honored, it definitely should. But for those famous people that are Believers, it’s just that, an anointing from God. He’s the famous one. 

Back to the dream, I walked in church and was running late (shocker). The only seat that was available in the entire church was the one behind Tim Tebow to the left. I sat down in the seat ready for worship. 

And Tim Tebow turned around to me and started talking, doting on me, saying all of the nicest things. He was treating me so special. I started to cry because what he was saying was so kind, but I had seen this before.  

He thought I was our pastor’s daughter.  

It was a compliment. I love our pastor, and feel very much like he’s a spiritual father to me. 

“Wait, wait, I’m so sorry. I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m not the pastor’s daughter,” I said.  

“I know, but your Papa’s. Your Papa’s daughter.” he replied.

In the dream, I ran to the back of the church where I normally worship and laid down on my face, sobbing, completely undone.   


I woke up from the dream crying. And every time I remember this dream, even as I’m writing this, my heart swells and my eyes fill up with tears. 

I remember Papa God whispering to my heart that favor follows me because I’m His. That I’m a big deal, because I’m His daughter.  

My best friend’s dad was great, but He doesn’t hold a candle to the Father I’ve found in God. That dream positioned my heart to not only receive from Him more fully but receive from others too. It marked me in a way that I’ll never be the same. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about John, the beloved. So many people poke fun at him, because he wrote those words about himself, “the one that Jesus loved.” But the more I think on it, the more I think we might could learn from him. 

John’s identity was fully established by being loved by God. The deeper I go into the heart of the Father, the more I’m learning that His love changes everything. And the greatest part of me, is that I belong to Him. 

I’m my Father’s daughter, the one that He loves.  

This dream I shared is yours too. You’re the one in the story with extra favor, that is spoken highly of, and doted on. Because if you are in Christ Jesus, you’re only identity, you’re true identity is established in the love of God. 

You’re the Father’s daughter, the one that He loves. 

When the Load Feels Heavy

When the Load Feels Heavy

I’ve been his mama and he has been my son now for almost two years, minus the two months he went back.

When I think back to that first summer he came, all I can remember is the rash that covered my body for six months. I used every cream and ointment you could imagine. I quit gluten and dairy. It didn’t matter what I did, the rash stayed. It was my body’s way of telling me it was too much.

I remember laying on my face every morning in my office, asking Holy Spirit for just enough grace to make it through that day. In those first days, it was minute by minute. I didn’t know how to be a mama to a then seven year old. And he surely didn’t know what it was like to live as a true son. He wasn’t used to boundaries and bedtimes, structure and routine. Love felt uncomfortable, like dipping cold toes in to warm water, it burned.

Although we have quite the journey ahead of us, sorting through so much trauma, and growing together in love, we’ve found our place together. I am his and he is mine. He’s settled in nicely to his place in our family. And we’re hoping one day it will be forever.

Read More

When Praise is a Sacrifice

When Praise is a Sacrifice

The calendar turned to a new year. December faded beautifully away. Only to welcome the bitter cold, January mornings when the light slips through the clouds to find it’s way through my living room window. With it’s newness, January brings with it a routine and chance to change. While my blank journal is calling out to me to fill it with new words, new dreams, new prayers, the same longings still scream out from my soul.

While this year ahead is laced in hope and promise, I’m still offering the same sacrifice of praise. Before the calendar page flipped, I found myself several weeks ago so broken before the Lord. On this particular day, my soul just ached. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the cause, but my eyes filled up with tears throughout that day. I was attending a conference with a few friends that night and although wasn’t expecting it, I knew Father was up to something.

Read More