Permission to Push
God surfaced a sweet childhood memory. It played like a movie projected to a screen by an old vintage projector. It’s image flickers and in out as wheels turn.
It was a time when life was simple — at least for me— I was just a child. I vividly remember sitting on the swing adamantly demanding my father to push me. The sound of my words echo through time:
“Push me, daddy, push me.”
It was a picture of my Heavenly Father regardless what my earthly father did or said. It was the little girl who had her Father wrapped around her pinky finger. The Father who moves heaven and earth just to push her because she asked boldly for Him to push her.
Currently, the Lord’s invitation overwhelms me: Do dare I know Him as the One who pushes me?
On the first night of Ekballo, our spring conference, the Lord gripped me with a terrifying and dangerous instruction:
He said, “Kat, I want you to tell [insert fathering/mothering leader’s name] that they have permission to push you.”
If I would have seen His face, I would have seen a challenge — and a playful smirk —etched in His smile. Deep down, I knew it came with a cost. This invitation would strip me of my comfort and safety. His stipulation was immediate obedience and the death of my will. The byproduct of my yes would be more of Him.
This ask stirred up something within me — what did I just get myself into?
Over the last few years, I have experienced the importance of yielding fruit. It requires trials pruning, dying, humility, and surrender. When I was knee-deep in process, I couldn’t clearly see the purpose of my pain or the fruit the Lord was cultivating in me. Even when fathering leaders assured me that this was the way (His way): walk in it. I still couldn’t see how God was building me “up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices…”
1 Peter 2:2-4 (ESV) 2 Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation-- 3 if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. 4 As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.
Then one day in mid-conversation with a friend, I was struck with awe about a mindset I used to hold — something rooted in orphan mentality. I was unable to pinpoint the precise moment when I began to truly believe the narrative of the Lord. But I knew the synaptic pathway in my brain had been rewired. I was unable to think the thoughts I used to think.
These opportunities that matured me also created a love for process in me and a determination to never stop growing. The thought of ceasing to grow feels as painful as imaging Jesus saying to me, “Depart from me, I never knew you.” If I’m not growing, maturing, or changing in some way, am I really knowing the Father?
Maturing takes intentionality. It doesn’t happen because you will it to happen. The posture of a son is to pursue the Father. The fathering leaders are road signs as you run to the Father. They are often equipped with agitation and Godly wisdom. And most of the time, you won’t have the privilege to choose who they will be. God ultimately defines them. Trust them fact that God knows you best. Personally I praise God for Him defining my fathering relationships. If I had a say, I’d make a mess of it all. And just like Elisha who received a double portion — it’s costly.
[1Ki 19:20-21 KJV] 20 And he left the oxen, and ran after Elijah, and said, Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and [then] I will follow thee. And he said unto him, Go back again: for what have I done to thee? 21 And he returned back from him, and took a yoke of oxen, and slew them, and boiled their flesh with the instruments of the oxen, and gave unto the people, and they did eat. Then he arose, and went after Elijah, and ministered unto him.
My desire is to walk out in boldness everything that the Lord has designed me to be and do. As a friend says, “ I want to steward me well.”
I know myself well enough that I cannot do it without community. Without a shove from God-appointed leaders and their shepherding staff — I may never attempt to fly.
Do you know what happens when an eaglet never leaves the nest? They have a high risk of death due to overcrowding, competition, and lack of food. It delays their ability to survive independently. Young birds need to develop their flight feathers and learn to forage for themselves. The remedy: the parent birds will often push their young out of the nest.
So I dare you to linger in stilness and ask the Lord: Who’s pushing you? Who do you need to give permission to push you?
And to the fathering leaders… the question might be: Who do I need to push?