Eyes widened. Eyebrows flew skyward. Shocked gazes met across the grassy mountainside. Anyone who’d begun dozing between the dissertation against anger and the exhortation to help the needy snapped to attention. Everyone was completely alert now. Their minds were buzzing with questions. Had they heard correctly? Did He really just say that? Did Jesus just confidently give them permission to approach the great God of the universe and boldly address Him as, “Father”? (Matthew 6:9)
The very thought was appalling. They were not so unlearned as to believe they were worthy of such a familiarity. Every prayer throughout their long and storied history had been carefully addressed with a title of respect, a tribute to the very person of God. This “Father” title was an entirely new concept. One that caught them off guard. No leader or teacher had ever dared suggest such an idea before. Surely Jesus was not intimating that they, people who had heard nothing but silence from Heaven for centuries, should go out on such a precarious limb, stretch the limits of respectability, and call God “Father.” Not one prophet, priest or king gracing the scrolls of history had ever dared to cast their gaze skyward and cry out, “Father.” The written tomes could prove it.
When Moses entreated God not to destroy the people wholeheartedly engaged in idol worship, he cried, “O Lord.” Struggling to comprehend the massive defeat at Ai, Joshua bowed his head and groaned, “Alas, O Lord God.” Poised before a drenched altar with an entire congregation of Baal worshippers looking on, Elijah humbly intoned, “O Lord.” In one of the most beautiful prayers ever recorded, Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in front of all the people of Israel and offered a prayer of dedication beginning with the words, “O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you, in heaven or earth…” Each one acknowledged God’s omnipotence. Extolled His omniscience. Worshiped His person. Revelled in His glory. But not one of these men, no matter how chosen, how anointed, or how close to God they were, felt it remotely proper to address Him so familiarly as “Father.” (Joshua 7:7: I Kings 8:22-23; I KingExodus 32:11)
Measured beside Moses and Joshua and Elijah, the men gathered on that hillside were forced to acknowledge their acute shortcomings. They were not men of such high regard as to grace the annals of history. If the men who had been blessed to be deliverers and conquerors and kings for God felt it disrespectful to address Him with such informality, who were they, the humble, uncelebrated, unheroic hearers of Jesus’ famed Sermon on the Mount, that they should be deemed worthy of such a familiarity?
They were not prophets or kings. They were not celebrated or famous. They were ordinary people. Simple nobodies. Average or below. People who knew themselves for what they were and admitted it. Sinners. Unworthy. Unholy. Unacceptable. They didn’t follow the law with excruciating exactness because they thought themselves worthy. They didn’t haul in sacrifices with alarming regularity because they were already holy. No. They knew better than anyone how much they needed grace. Yet, when offered to them with unwavering certainty, it must surely have given them pause. Their certainty of being less than good enough kicked in. Hanging in the tension of profoundly desiring the offered grace, yet deeply believing their filthiness excluded them, they surely found themselves asking what the great God of the universe could possibly want with them? Would He still want them to call Him, “Father,” when He examined their hearts and knew who they really were?
Unflattering adjectives would be the only descriptors honesty would allow. Proud. Judgmental. Hateful. Spiteful. Adulterers. Fornicators. Liars. Covetous. If anything in that list was attractive to God, they had yet to determine what it was. There was nothing that would naturally entice Him to make them such a generous offer. Why would He, given the glaring disparity in their positions? Seriously. He was God. Is God. God! Creator and Sustainer of the universe. God. Who inhabits eternity. Who always was and always will be. God. Who made a donkey talk, held the sun at midday, and cleansed leprosy with dirty water. God. Whose enormous infinity overwhelms the comprehension of finite humanity. God. The One whose wrath the law had meticulously taught them to fear. Yes. That God. The One they felt so uncertain about. Yet Jesus was telling them they could come before Him and boldly cry out, “Father.” (Job 38:33-37; Colossians 1:17; I Corinthians 8:6; Numbers 22:21-39; Joshua 10:12-15; II Kings 5:1-14; Galatians 3:24-26)
Jesus didn’t stop to let them dwell on the matter, but their minds must surely have stalled there. No matter how they would feel about the rest of Jesus’ prayer guide, each heart who heard these words would absolutely have needed a moment, or several, to digest them. I know I do. Centuries later, bogged down in the awareness of my own shortcomings, I so often find myself turning to God and addressing Him in reserved, proper tones liberally sprinkled with superlatives. My words are carefully edited to reflect what I think He wants to hear, not what I really feel. Yet when I come back to the words Jesus taught us to pray, I find my stodgy formality utterly shattered by the fact that the perfect, present, powerful God who transcends time and space has chosen me to be His child and permits me, asks me, wants me to call Him, “Father!”
He wants the same for you. God wants you to come to Him, call Him “Father,” and speak to Him as such. He wants to hear your cares, concerns, and confessions. He wants you to tell Him how you really feel about the frustrations and blessings, irritations and exhilarations of your life. He wants to know your hesitancies, your insecurities. He wants you to bring everything to Him. Not because He doesn’t already know it, but, just like His visits to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, God wants to be in relationship with you. He wants to spend time with you and speak to you. He wants you to know that you can never offend Him with your crazy questions and convoluted thought processes. He wants you to rest in the abundance of His mercy. He wants you to be secure in His unfailing love. He wants to be the Father your soul has always longed for. He wants you to know the true measure of His grace. (Isaiah 64:8; Philippians 4:6; Hebrews 11:1; I John 2:2; I John 5:14-15)
This is it. The measure of God’s grace. You get to call God “Father.” You. With all your sin and doubt, your filth and scars. You. The one who walked away from him, denied him, rejected his mercy. You. The dirty, smelly, broken child that struggled to find your way home. You. The prodigal son, covered in pig filth, get to call God “Father!” Not because you deserve it. Not because you earned it. Not because you were worthy on your own. No. With no logical reasoning, no obligation forcing His hand, God, in endless love and amazing mercy, awarded you child status. He made you His own and gave you the privilege of calling out, anytime and anywhere, “Abba Father,” knowing He will answer. Exquisite love. Unending mercy. Magnificent grace! (Luke 15:11-32; John 6:37; Ephesians 2:1-10; Romans 8:15)
Hallelujah!!!!