“God,” I cried, “show me your face! I feel like I don’t know what you look like anymore. Who are you?!”
As I rocked myself in time to the music, an image grew in my mind: a little girl, curled up in her Father’s arms. She was held, protected, delighted in, and comforted. “I’m your daddy,” came that still, small voice.
I had never, before that moment, dared to enter the intimacy of a face to face encounter with the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Ruler of All Creation, God. And yet as sure as I knew I was saved by grace, I knew He was giving me permission to look into His eyes and call Him Daddy.
MY OWN DAD, THE CARPENTER
You see, I have a soft spot right in the middle of my heart for my earthly Daddy. He’s my champion, my warrior, and my friend. He’s a far cry from perfect, but I have never once had reason to question his love or his faithfulness in my life. I know he would do anything to protect and connect with his daughters—me, my big sister, and his “adopted” daughter here in Thailand—and I couldn’t quite, in all honesty, say I knew that to be true of God.
After all, following God had caused me a lot of pain. I still served and obeyed, but my image of God hung heavily on the side of Master, not Daddy. So the day God invited me to call Him Daddy was the day He asked me to release my grudge for the wilderness He led me through. It was the day He asked me to trust His heart of fiercely protective love for me like never before.
My own dad is a carpenter. He can go to the woods, cut down a tree, mill it, sand it, and turn it into just about anything. As I’ve been invited into the process of construction and craftsmanship with him, I’ve experienced the sawdust flying and the splinters stabbing in that messy middle ground before the product is finished. It’s a process. A rough and refining process. There’s no way to turn a tree into a modern home without wielding the saw and hammer and sander.
But do you know what’s even rougher than the process? My dad’s hands. They’re scarred and calloused, blistered and bruised constantly. His own touch—and very often his own blood—is all over the work. In this picture, I’ve come to see my Heavenly Father, the careful craftsman, whose business and joy is to make us into something beautiful. His fingerprints are all over my life, and there’s not a sliver of pain I endure that He isn’t feeling with me. There is purpose and love behind every piercing nail. Especially the ones that pierced His own hands.
ABBA, FATHER!
That rough wood and the shaping it must go through to become smooth and usable reminds me of Romans 8:18 (ESV), “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” And how will that glory be revealed? In the redemption of our bodies when even outwardly we put on the skin of the children of God (v. 23).
While we might have to wait in the tension of hope for our future resurrected glory, we don’t have to wait for the sign of our adoption, our sonship. Back it up to verses 15 – 17 and we see who we are, right now in the splintery middle: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.”
These verses are so rich, we could study them for a lifetime, and all of Romans chapter 8 has been one of my favorites since I first let Christ claim me at age eleven; but for right now, let’s just marvel at the good Father we see revealed in the text.
This Father says, “You don’t belong to fear. You belong to me.” . . .
Place yourself in the story of the prodigal son, found in Luke 15:11-32. You may find that you identify more with either the older or the younger son, and as you imagine yourself in the passage, take note of the father.
What does he say?
How does he look at you?
What feelings does he express?
What is his invitation to you?
This is an excerpt from my devotional published in SheHeard Magazine. You can buy a beautiful print copy or view the digital version here.
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