When I was little, my parents used to play a game with me. I would lie on my stomach and they would use their finger to “write” words on my back. I would pay attention to each movement of their finger and guess every letter as they wrote it, which eventually spelled a word they’d picked. I would eagerly anticipate each letter and couldn’t wait to figure out what word they’d chosen.
I recently had a vision of me lying on a blanket in a large field with Abba. We were under a tall oak tree and there was a gentle breeze as the sun was coming through the clouds. He laid next to me, propped up on one arm and His other hand was on my back, tracing letters with His finger. He began to remind me of names He calls me as He wrote them on my back. I would say each one aloud as I guessed.
He wrote words like:
- My sweetheart
- The apple of my eye
I saw myself smiling as I would turn to lock eyes with Him as I felt His finger tracing these words on my back—words I’ve never truly let take root in my heart…words that I don’t often claim as my identity…words that get drowned out by things I allow the enemy to say about me…words that I quickly ignore when I hear Holy Spirit whisper them into my ear.
My prayer is that we, as an army of His treasured daughters, begin to let the words Abba speaks over us become our identity. That our hearts would be so entwined with and tethered to His heart, we couldn’t help but hear His voice permeate through our ears when He speaks. Oh how He longs for us to believe what He says about us!
Father, take me back to that field underneath the oak tree when I need to be reminded of who I am…because I don’t ever want to miss the feeling of your finger so tenderly tracing words on my back as you call me by the names you’ve given me.