There's a wonderful book called 'I dared to call him Father'. (It was too good a title
not to reuse). In it Bilquis Sheikh, a high ranking Muslim woman, takes us on her incredible journey as she discovered that the God she only vaguely believed in actually loved her. And wanted her to know it. God wanted her to call him Father.
For a Muslim this was outrageous.
Actually, for all of us, it's outrageous. We're just so used to it that we don't notice. After all, most of us learned to chant 'Our Father' while we were still very small, and it didn't seem particularly special at the time. Whether we are regularly in church or not, we've grown up in a culture shaped for centuries by Christianity - and therefore shaped by this concept: God as Father.
What does it mean to you?
Jesus thought it was pretty important. When his disciples asked him to teach them to pray, he started by addressing God as Father. And he does so himself throughout all the prayers recorded in the gospels:
"My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, your will be done" - Matthew 26:42
"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" - Luke 23:34
"Father, the hour has come" - John 17:1
The New Testament is written in Greek, rather than the Aramaic Jesus actually used, so we don't know exactly which terms he used most of the time. But there is one place where Mark records the actual word. An Aramaic word in the middle of a Greek sentence:
'"Abba, Father," [Jesus] said "everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."'
Mark 14:36
He may not have used the same word every time - but here at least, in his agony, when Jesus calls out to God he uses the term a child would use. Daddy.
How significant is this? It was obviously striking enough for Mark to notice and to record it - but why?
In his book, 'Jesus through Middle Eastern eyes', the scholar Kenneth E Bailey explains that when Jesus prays, he is breaking cultural norms for how the gods, or even important people, were addressed. Usually all their titles were given to show appropriate reverence. But Jesus just approaches God directly.
He underlines this by using Aramaic. There is no need to reserve a sacred language for God. He's OK with us coming just as we are.
The term 'Father' isn't unique to Jesus. As Jew, he would have taken part in the Tefillah or three daily prayers. These began with the Schema, the lofty declaration of who God is and our response to him, from Deuteronomy 6:4-5, and were followed by eighteen other prayers. God is addressed many ways in these prayers: 'God of our fathers', 'God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob', 'Blessed one', 'Mighty one' and so on. Twice within the Tefillah God is called 'Our Father' using a relatively formal term ('Abinu' in Hebrew).
This isn't surprising since in the Old Testament the concept of God as a Father does appear a few times. It's a wonderful simile in Psalm 103:13: "As a father as compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him", and a metaphor in Isaiah 63:16: "...you, LORD, are our Father; our Redeemer from of old is your name".
So Jesus isn't creating brand new theology here. But he is bringing the concept to the fore, giving it a centrality it never had before. And it struck his followers.
John was the closest of the disciples to Jesus. And John writes more about our adoption into God's family than any other New Testament writer. It's possibly no surprise that the disciple described as 'the one Jesus loved', who is close to him at the Lord's supper and who stands at the foot of the cross when the others have fled, is so so struck by the fact that we are made children of God.
And Paul, despite never meeting Jesus in the flesh, twice uses the Aramaic term 'Abba' in the middle of a Greek sentence. It seems that this zealous Pharisee was bowled over to find that the God he had tried so hard to serve just wanted him to come and be with his Daddy. And so in wonder he exclaims,
"...the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba! Father!' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children."
Romans 8:15-16
"Because you are his sons, God set the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, 'Abba, Father!'. So you are no longer a slave, but God's child..."
Galatians 4:6-7
Let's recap. Jesus consistently called God, 'Father', and at least sometimes he used the informal child's title, 'Daddy'. It wasn't completely new - but, like so much Jesus did, it was profoundly countercultural. He approached God directly, with no ceremony, titles, special language, or ritual. He just walked into his Daddy's presence. And he invited his followers to do the same.
Who is this Daddy?
Our views of fatherhood are, like everything else, shaped by our culture and our experience. We may have had a great dad, or we may have had a dad who let us down. We may never have known our dad. It may be obvious that our views of 'dad' are nothing like God; we may struggle with the very concept. We may find the emphasis on the male gender a barrier. Even if our earthly dad was amazing, he hasn't given us an adequate picture of our heavenly father.
It is hard. For some, it's almost impossible, and they want to give up on the concept. It's just too painful.
If that's you, I am so sorry for what you've been through. Maybe this isn't the time to work through it. Jesus knows, he sees, and every tear is in his bottle. If it's too much for you just now, he is holding you close.
But if we can, when we can, I think there's a better way. Instead of struggling with our ideas about fatherhood, we need to let Jesus define what he means by Daddy.
Fortunately he has done exactly that for us.
in Luke 15, Jesus tells three stories. The link between them is that something goes missing, and the one who lost it does not rest until it is found and restored. They are stories of our rebellion and God's determination to bring us back. They illustrate his commitment to us, our value to him, his celebration when we are home.
The third story also tells us a lot about the fatherhood of God. Because in this story - the story of the prodigal son - Jesus shows us a Daddy. And this Daddy is radical. In every age and every culture, this Daddy is a surprise. He is not what any of us think of as a father. He is better. He is jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better. And this is the Daddy Jesus knows.
When Jesus said, 'Daddy', this is who he meant.
(If you don't know the story, it's worth a read - you can find it at the end of this post).
This Daddy reacts to a face-slapping insult from his son by... giving him what he asked for. When the son asks for half the inheritance, he is saying that he wishes the father were dead. Jesus' listeners would have expected the father to formally throw him out of the family - not to calmly liquidate half his assets and hand them over.
This Daddy responds to his son's betrayal by... longing for him to come home. As the days turn into weeks - long enough for party time to become famine to become desperation - we would expect his heart to harden, for the pain to heal, for him to find acceptance. Instead, the father continues to gaze down the road, not insulating himself from the hurt, but longing for any sign of restoration.
This Daddy sees his rebellious, filthy, unclean son returning... and runs to forgive and welcome him in. Listeners in Jesus' time would expect the father to throw the son out, or at the very least demand restitution. We would expect him to weigh the son's words, check whether he's learned his lesson, wait for an apology. There is no room for any of that in this father's heart; he restores sonship, dignity, status and value without waiting to hear a single word.
This Daddy allows his rebellious son back into the home... and throws a lavish feast. Before there is any sign the son has changed, the fatted calf - the most valuable asset the family owns - is killed and the whole town is celebrating. The father invites ridicule from society and further injury from his son because his love is beyond understanding and so his joy can't be contained.
This Daddy is publicly shamed by his older son... and goes out to engage him personally. In Jesus' society the refusal of the older son to come in is a personal insult to the father; and it's delivered by a servant so everyone knows it. But rather than leaving the son to sulk or commanding him to come in, the father pauses his celebration, meets his son in his anger and selfishness, and repeats the invitation to come and share joy.
What a Daddy this is.
He is not what any of us think of as a father. He is better. He is jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better.
When we insult him, he listens to our ravings, however misguided they are.
When we stomp off, he longs for our return, however long it takes.
When we show any sign of repentance, he runs to restore relationship, dignity and love.
When we respond, even minimally, to his love, he celebrates wildly with all of heaven.
When we bring shame on him, he meets us where we are and invites us to come back home.
He is not what any of us think of as a father. He is better. He is jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better.
This is the Daddy Jesus knew.
This is the Daddy Jesus shows us.
This is the Daddy Jesus invites us to pray to.
You know, there is one time Jesus doesn't say 'Daddy'. A prayer prayed at the point of absolute desperation, when he most needed the jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better father he knew.
It's at the very end of his life. He is on the cross. He's been praying to his father all through the awful hours of the betrayal, the trial, the scourging, the road to Golgotha, the nails, the taunting and thirst and pain.
And then at the very end, he says this:
"My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" - Mark 15:34
As he's dying, he doesn't call God Daddy.
He's abandoned. Abandoned even by the Father. For the only time in all eternity, his Daddy's love was taken away from him.
And because of that, it will never be taken away from you. Or from me.
You see, we don't deserve to live in the jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better love of our Father. We, like the prodigal son, have betrayed and ignored and disobeyed and not lived up to him in a million ways.
And every time we feel that awful truth - I don't deserve this - we can look at the cross and see Jesus experiencing the abandonment of his Father. The abandonment we deserve.
Because of his love for us, he chose to take it on himself. Before all eternity, the Father and the Son planned to be separated - so that we could be brought in. They paid the debt, they bore the pain, they felt the abandonment.
So that today, tomorrow and forever, you and I never will.
So that today, tomorrow and forever, you and I can call him Daddy.
The parable of the prodigal son (and the jaw-droppingly, shockingly, unbelievably better father)
Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
Luke 15:11-32
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