the striped throne

The pastor of Atlanta Westside opened the Sunday morning service this week with a prayer that has played through my mind over and over in the days since.

He prayed, "Heavenly Father, we come before Your throne as children running to their father's lap as he sits in his easy chair."

You see, Daddy used to sit in a blue and white striped chair. I suppose it might be classified as a recliner, but it came with a matching ottoman that gets pulled around the living room to this day. Though the chair has been recovered in a light yellow to match the French redecoration that overwhelmed the main floor, and though it now sits in a corner watching its lesser half monopolize utility, that chair is special.

On any given evening during my early childhood, you would be hard-pressed to find me anywhere other than in that chair next to Daddy. We ate popcorn and watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy almost every night.

The thought never crossed my mind that that chair was designed for only one person. I cannot recall a single moment's hesitation to climb up in that chair, wedge myself comfortably (for me at least, though I'm sure Daddy took an elbow to the ribs on more than one occasion) between the armrest and my big, cozy dad, and help myself to all the privileges that position entitled me to.

The primary highlight, and the thing I remember most, was the popcorn. Daddy would fix us a snack in his Stir Crazy Popcorn Popper and we would put it down while we watched our shows. Not that he needed any help at all to finish off that huge bowl (some things never change), but I had a special job. Anytime he dropped a piece, I would snag it off his tummy and eat it. Writing that now makes it sound weird, but I thought it was the funniest thing. It gave me something to chuckle at, it made me feel needed, it somehow deepened my love for Daddy.

The other activity for which that chair was utterly essential was Beauty Shop. Daddy and I loved to play hair! On a few occasions he styled mine too, but for the most part I delighted to go to work washing, conditioning, cutting and accessorizing his hair. For these appointments, Daddy would slide off the chair and onto the floor to lean up against it as I set up shop above him. I would vigorously wash and condition his hair with all my might. Then I skillfully clipped every barrette in my possession (an impressive collection) into Daddy's hair. These events were eagerly anticipated by both of us!

Sitting in that striped chair with Daddy may be one of my most meaningful childhood memories.

My heart has not been able to let go of that prayer since Sunday. I have continued to pray about the statement and ponder what it means to truly approach the throne of grace as a child of God. And every time I think about it, I think about Daddy, and I think about the chair.

I think of confidence.

So often when I think about approaching the throne of grace with confidence, I feel the need to muster it up, to put it on, to talk myself into the right, free mindset that has been promised to Christians. It is almost as if I need to convince myself.

When I think about how I climbed into the chair with my dad, I realize I never gave it a conscious thought. I never questioned my welcome. I never questioned my right. I never questioned his generosity. I never questioned the depth of our affection. I was his daughter. Therefore, everything that he enjoyed was mine to enjoy as well. The chair, the popcorn, the television. Of course I would take my place next to him. That was where I belonged. I can only imagine that any question of these affections would break the heart of such a loving parent.

I so desire to approach my Heavenly Father with this confidence. Confidence in His heart that is lodged so deeply within mine that I never question His generosity or affection, His sacrifice or love. Just as there was never a need for analysis when I approached the striped chair, never a need for hesitation, I want my adoption as a daughter of God to course so freely through my veins that I never for a moment keep my heart from my Father.

"Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4:16

I think of joy.

Daddy and I both enjoyed our time in the chair. Especially Beauty Shop time. Daddy got a thorough scalp massage, I got to play with hair. What more could we ask for? We enjoyed each other. It was simple. It was sweet. It was life-giving.

The more my heart grows away from inhibition, the more my Father and I may enjoy one another. Free to laugh, free to enjoy, free to cry, free to be.

"For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! [Daddy!] Father!'" Romans 8:15

I think of relationship.

When Daddy was at work, I never thought twice about sitting in that chair. My default reclining location of choice was on the love seat any other time of day. The chair was just that, a chair, unless Daddy was there. He was the highlight. He was the prize. His love was my delight. Not comfort. Not food. Not employment. Daddy.

In the same way, the throne of God, the expanse of heaven, is meaningless if He is not there. No space is worth inhabiting if the great I AM is not found there. The promise of a throne is empty unless it is overwhelmed by the presence of Jesus Christ. Even His throne is just a chair unless the Lord God is seated there.

"The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne." Revelation 3:21

Thank you, Daddy, for loving me in a way that reveals the heart of God for me. I know my understanding is still so limited, but I am undeserving and grateful to have you as my earthly father. We, as in me and God, love you so much.