Dads & Daughters: What A Middle School Play Reminded Me About God

Erik Cooper —  November 13, 2013 — Leave a comment

My eyes darted desperately around the darkened stage looking for a glimpse of her silhouette amidst the positioning actors.

She’d worked so hard.

Months of rehearsals.

Her big debut.

Lights! It was showtime!

Where was she? Where was she? Where was she? Where…

And then she appeared.




I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Each time she stepped into the brilliant wash of the stage lights, my pulse picked up speed and the corners of my mouth impulsively curved upward to reflect an inner joy I could hardly keep inside. She was a star!

She was my daughter.


Now you might be wondering what play my little thespian landed the lead in. Annie? Fiddler? Les Mis? Actually, it was her middle school’s adaptation of Disney’s High School Musical (Shakespearean, I know). Ah, ok. So now you’re assuming she must have snagged the role of virtuous Gabriella Montez or snarky Sharpay Evans?

Not exactly.

I suppose the truth, as far as your objective perspective is concerned, is that being one of six cheerleaders with no speaking parts isn’t all that exciting or imperative to the overall success of the production. But you would never know that by looking at my pictures, video, and Instagram feed. As far as I was concerned, she was the center of the storyline.

No matter who was singing, or dancing, or stealing the show, I was looking for my girl. She wasn’t an “extra,” she is my daughter.

In that moment I felt God quietly whisper into my spirit, “You know, that’s exactly the way I feel about you, too.

In God’s unfolding narrative, there are no worthless roles, stagehands, or throw-off parts. You are not an ancillary character.

You are a son.

You are a daughter.

Unfortunately for many of us, life has scripted something completely different. Past “auditions” and “performances” have landed us in parts that feel more like chattel than children. But sometimes the truth is far different than what our insides are telling us.

Life was never meant to be an auditioned performance, and you’re not striving to earn a starring role. Your Father isn’t looking for lead actors, He’s looking for his kids. Because of Jesus you’re not an accessory, you’re an heir. Not a drudge but a daughter. Not a slave but a son. 

And your Daddy has His eye on you.

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