A couple of weeks ago changed my life…forever. Allison gave birth to our first son, Ezra Max Condrey. I love him so, so, so much and he has never done one thing for me. For the last 4-5 months of Allison’s pregnancy, she kept telling me to talk to Ezra while he was in the womb. She informed me that research shows that not only could Ezra hear me, but that he is able to start learning and eventually recognizing my voice. This way, when the child is born, he would be able to recognize my voice, bond with me quicker, and know that I am not just “another” person in his life. By talking with him for months pre-birth, I would be preparing him to recognize my special role in his life. This meant the world to me, so I took advantage of this and began, especially in the 2nd and 3rd trimester, to talk to him all the time.
So here we are a tad bit over two weeks since Ezra entered the world. It would take too much time to express all of the wonderful things I feel toward my son. That being said, I found myself feeling something a little odd the other day. I discovered the other day that out of nowhere, I was afraid that he wasn’t recognizing my voice. I was afraid that my voice was not that much different to him than other people who had said something to him. I have no doubt that he is bonding with Allison for two reasons: (1) She carried him for 9 months, and (2) She is breastfeeding. But here I am. What can I do right now to bond? How can I make sure that I am someone just as special in his life right now? I may be too early for me to expect him to recognize the God-given role of daddy I have been given to him. Yet, I thought it interesting that out of my love for my son, I have at moments come face to face with a quiet little fear that he might not yet be recognizing my voice. I think he is to some degree which is absolutely amazing. But my point is that, as his dad, I want my voice (along with Allison’s of course) to be absolutely set apart, distinct, and like no other in his life. I want that special place in his heart. I want him to feel love, peace, strength, courage, security, and a host of other wonderful emotions when he hears that I am somewhere near. And, if I am honest, I don’t want anybody else’s voice to do that for him quiet as much as mine. I am his dad. I want to be that special in his life. I am jealous for him to see that nobody will love and fight for and protect him more than me.
Then, my thoughts shifted to my/our heavenly Dad. There is NO DOUBT in my mind that He must feel the exact same. Matter of fact, He probably experiences this jealous love to a degree that my psychological inner circuitry will not even allow. He wants that special place of trust in my heart. He wants, as my Dad, to be able to do in me and for me with His voice what no one else can. He is jealous to fill my/your life with his voice. Psalms 29 is a wonderful meditation upon the power and comfort that comes to us through God’s speaking.
God wants to speak.
God wants His voice to be to me/you what no one else’s voice can be.
He is our Dad, and though we might not understand everything as Christians, He is hoping that when He walks into the room, our head turns to find Him even if we don’t know everything about Him.
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”
(Jesus – John 10:27)
And your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,’ whenever you turn to the right or to the left.”