Mary
was frantic. “Where’s my boy? Have you seen him?”
No
one had. Two days later found him in, of all places,
a house of worship.
Can
you imagine her relief and frustration? “Why have you
treated us like this?” she asked.
Like
any other twelve‑year‑old boy, he didn’t
understand why she was so worried. “Didn’t you know
I would be in my Father’s house?” he replied.
These
are the first recorded words of the world’s most famous
man. “My father’s house,” Mary thought. “I wonder what
he meant by that.”
Years
later, he still used the word Father. Now, however,
his meaning is clear: the Father in question was God
Himself.
Today
we’re accustomed to thinking about God as our Father.
But at that time it was a revolutionary idea: Never
before had anyone referred to God that way. To do so
would have been considered blasphemous.
The
crowds found his apparent familiarity with the Almighty
both attractive and offensive. Some sought to stone
him for it. But others were drawn to the man for whom
God was not a distant idea but rather a close relative.
His
followers once asked him for a lesson on prayer. “Teach
us to pray,” they said.
“When
you pray, pray this way,” he said. “Our Father¼”
They
took him seriously, even adopting the children’s word,
“Abba,” to refer to God. It’s like calling God, “daddy.”
My
twenty ‑ two ‑ year ‑ old daughter
still calls me daddy, while my boys prefer dad. Either
way, they’re two of the coolest words in the English
language. Without explanation it says, “You are the
one who gave me life and unconditional love. I belong
to you and I’m proud to acknowledge it.”
I
know my kids don’t really think that when they say my
name, and nor do I. But I will say this, now that two
of my children live in California, there’s nothing like
seeing their picture on my cell phone and hearing the
greeting, “Hi Daddy,” or “Hey Dad.”
I
write these words while enjoying a family vacation on
the coast. Yesterday, while my wife soaked up the sun,
the rest of us ambled out to the end of the jetty. Seagulls
and pelicans filled the sky. Crabs crept in crevices
below. Winds swept the waves against our perch.
My
three children and I admired the view, appreciated the
weather, and engaged in small chat. I lay back on the
rock, looked up at the skies and thought, “Father, thanks
for making me a father. Life doesn’t get any better
than this.”
Being
a father is one of the most profound blessings of my
life. And calling God my Heavenly Father makes life
even sweeter.
