O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them. (John 17:25-26)
A long time ago, when I was a silly college student, I went to a church group with a friend. The campus pastor's wife approached me during worship and said something like, "Sorry to interrupt, but God has placed this on my heart....some people have trouble believing God loves them. I just want you to know that God loves you."
I didn't know what else to say except "thank you," awkwardly, as the small worship band played a haphazard cover of some Hillsong tune, the dim mood lighting casting full drama over the scene.
But I was offended. Me? I thought. I have never had trouble believing God loves me. What nonsense! She's off. She's judgmental. And I'm not coming back here again.
I was raised in a full-gospel, gifts-of-the-Spirit household. With raw honesty, I will admit that I thought I knew it all. Of course God loved me, just as my parents loved me. Where did this lady get off, telling me that I doubted that? She didn't even know me.
But neither did I.
Luke chapter 15 contains Jesus' parable of the prodigal son. I won't retype it here, since it's long. But we all know the story, if we were raised in Sunday school. We know that the prodigal son asked his father for his inheritance, then went and blew it all on prostitutes and other sinfully lavish expenses. I heard a preacher say once that, in Jewish culture during this time, asking a father for your inheritance before he was dead was like saying, "You're dead to me." That's pretty harsh.
But, as we good little Sunday school kids know, the son realizes his mistake when his sin leads to bankruptcy and starvation (his just desserts, we thought, smirking smugly to ourselves), and he returns home to his father and begs to become a hired servant, feeling he is unworthy to be called his father's son.
The father receives him not only as a son, but as an honored son--as if the son had never rejected him. He completely ignores the request for a minimum-wage servant job and instead throws a feast in his lost son's honor.
Of course, the older brother, who has so far not been a part of the story, now enters the scene, angry that his father has welcomed his baby brother back. Big Brother even sulks outside, refusing to enter the house. He whines that he has been faithful and obedient to his father, yet his no-good sinful brother is being treated much better than he ever has been.
The father replies, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."
I think, like both of the sons in this story, we all have a misunderstanding of the Fatherhood of God.
See, Prodigal Brother thought his father had nothing to offer him except riches; his father might as well have been dead for all he wanted to enjoy his company. Then, when he realizes he's sinned against his father, he returns home feeling unworthy to be loved.
How many of us sit perpetually at the foot of the cross, repeatedly confessing our sins and begging to just be a servant to our Father?
The Bible consistently refutes the idea that those who belong to Jesus are simply just "sinning servants" who are unworthy to be called sons. Once you belong to Jesus and become adopted as a son or daughter, it is about as easy to undo your kingdom inheritance as it is for you to reject your earthly parents' genetics. You are not unworthy of love just because you have failed. If earthly parents treat their children that way, we call them bullies and "stage moms." But we fully expect that kind of conditional love from God.
Then you have Big Brother, who believes that all his father has to offer him is stuff from the household. He resents his father, because, from his perspective, he has "done everything right" and should be rewarded. His concept of a father/son relationship is that all the father wants from him is "good behavior," and he should be given rewards in return. He doesn't realize that, the whole time, his father's entire house and all the blessings in it already belong to him, if he would only ask. They aren't a reward for being a "good boy." They are simply a part of sonship.
Big Brother has had an even greater blessing than Baby Brother: he has been with his father this whole time. The material blessings (which represent not only financial prosperity but also spiritual gifts like healing and prophecy) are secondary to the simple pleasure of his father's company, which he has had access to the entire time his brother was gone. But, since Big Brother believes that all his father wants from him is performance, and that Dad isn't interested at all in him as a person, he totally misses his father's invitation to come to the celebration feast.
How many of us are sitting outside our Father's door, sulking because we don't get what we want, or feeling unworthy to enter as a son or daughter?
All He wants from us is to be with us. Most of us, because of our screwy conceptions of fatherhood, completely miss the very heart of God for His children.
My earthly father was a good dad, by general standards. I knew that he loved me, would provide for me, and would protect me. However, because he was often consumed in his own projects, I absorbed the idea that he wasn't interested in me. Because his own father wasn't the greatest, he didn't know how to share his heart with me.
The little girl in me believed that God worked the same way. He had his own thing going, and I just got to be a part of it. He probably wasn't really interested in me. I knew that He loved me, even delighted in me; but I thought I was just a child who probably couldn't be trusted with big things. Like my earthly dad, He would just do those Himself.
Because of my experience, I wondered why God would ever really share His heart with me--and why I would even want Him to. I saw other people walking in spiritual gifts, and knew, like Big Brother, that I could ask and receive them as well. But I was a stubborn daughter who just wanted a goat instead of my Father's heart.
Like Big Brother, I thought that God was withholding something from me. I thought He was withholding His heart--so I withheld my heart from Him.
Clearly, I wasn't consciously thinking this. But somehow that misunderstanding about my Father--no matter how great our relationship was otherwise--sneakily made its way into my heart and became part of my identity.
We all think the thoughts of both of the sons at certain times in our lives. In false humility (aka pride), we believe we're unworthy to approach Him because He doesn't want dirty-faced children. Or, in blatant pride, we believe He is withholding Himself when we actually haven't asked Him for Himself, because we want a goat to celebrate with our friends--we don't really want Him.
What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)
Who is the Holy Spirit?
But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me. (John 15:26)
The Holy Spirit is God Himself.
I don't care what your earthly father was like. Even the most amazing fathers make mistakes, and all of our parents have distorted our view of God as a Father.
But know this: that our great Father in heaven does not withhold Himself from you. Ask, and He will give you Himself, in great measure.
We may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that [we] may be filled with all the fullness of God.... far more abundantly than all that we ask or think (Ephesians 3).
Jesus is our model for sonship, and He abides so closely with the Father that they are one. We should expect nothing less in our own relationships with God.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him (Luke 15:20).
He knows what your earthly father was like, and He feels compassion. He wants to show you the true heart of a Father who is standing at the door, gazing far down the road so that He can see you--know you--and run to meet you wherever you are.
A real Father is full of grace, and His love is truly, completely, wholly unconditional. His aim is not to "use" you. He is interested in you, and he wants to share your heart.
All you have to do is ask, and He will share His own.
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