“Father, look at me,” my daughter squeaked as she jumped off the upside-down boat in the front garden of our church.
“Did she just call you father?” another parent nearby asked curiously. “That’s quite formal, isn’t it?”
It’s not an uncommon view. Perhaps you’ve heard the old saying, “Anyone can be a father; it takes a special person to be a dad.” Now, I understand where the sentiment comes from. Just because someone has a biological child doesn’t mean they are going to love that child as they ought; it doesn’t mean they are going to fulfill the job description. Think of an adoptive parent or stepparent who, though not related by blood, loves the child as their own, who makes the child their own. It’s a beautiful picture and, scripturally, is most Fatherly—not a title of respect or formality, but that of deepest affection.
At the center of who God is, He is Father. Jesus Himself says this explicitly: “Father . . . you loved me before the foundation of the world” (John 17:24).
What a beautiful glimpse into the life of the Trinity. What was God doing before the foundation of the world? Before the stars, moon, earth, sea, trees, and grass? Before sheep, cows, goats, birds of the air, or the fish of the sea; before space and time and matter? What was He doing? He was a Father loving His Son in the eternal fellowship of the Spirit. A God who was perfectly content and ineffably happy. Love is not something He has; love is who He is (1 John 4:8). As the sun can’t help but to radiate its light and warmth, and a fountain can’t help but to overflow, so the Father can’t help but to share, to shine out, bursting to share His very life and love.
What is more, He invites us, His creation, though not born of flesh, into this relationship that He has eternally enjoyed. The Father makes those who are not His, His. He gives them the right to become children of God, not because of blood or flesh, nor the will of man, but as an act of pure love and grace (John 1:13).
It is an astonishing privilege how Jesus teaches us to address God: “When you pray, say: ‘Our Father in heaven’” (Luke 11:2; Matt. 6:9). Jesus beckons us to call God “Father”—not in a formal or distant way, like the titles “Allfather” for Odin or “Father Zeus” in the Greco-Roman world. Rather, Christians are called to address God as Father in the very same way that Christ does.
Look at Galatians 4:6–7, for instance: “And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba, Father!’ So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.” This is remarkable. Notice He didn’t say “sons and daughters.” Why? Is Scripture being sexist or exclusive? By no means. Just as all believers are called the “bride of Christ” (Eph. 5:22–33; Rev. 19:7–9) regardless of gender, we’re also all called “sons” because we’re brought into the same status as Jesus, the Son.
So, believers are given the Spirit of the Son to cry out the same words of the Son: “Abba, Father.” “Abba” here isn’t a cute pet name for the Father; it is the Aramaic name for Father—Jesus’ native language. Believers address the Father in the same way the Son does. This makes us true co-heirs in Christ, and we therefore share in His same status before the Father. The Father loves believers as He loves His Son.
What is this Father like?
Christians are not left to wonder what this Father is like. Jesus tells us: “The Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise” (John 5:19).
Therefore, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9). This means that everything about Jesus tells us what the Father is like. Jesus didn’t say or do anything in His life that doesn’t show us the heart of the Father.
In Christ’s incarnation, we see a God who takes the initiative to reconcile broken, sinful humanity back to Himself (John 3:16). We see the outward-moving God who shares His deepest joy and love with the world—the very love He has enjoyed from all eternity. We see a God who enters in and shares in our humanity (John 1:14): our weakness, sorrow, suffering, temptation, and loss (Phil. 2:6–9). In Christ’s life, we see One who is not repulsed by sinners, but His very heart is gentle and lowly (Matt. 11:29). We see a God who is the friend of sinners (Mark 2:13–17; Luke 7:34).
When we see Him flip the tables of the money changers set up in the court of the gentiles, we see a holy love that is jealous for true worship from all the nations. He is not indifferent to corruption or injustice but opposes evil for the sake of His beloved children. He is fierce in the protection of their access to Him. When we see Him turn water into wine, we see a God who delights to bless abundantly and extravagantly, a God who delights to take little and provide richly. When we see Him weep over Lazarus, we see a God who cares deeply about relationships. He is not distant but near, sharing in our brokenness. When we see Him wash the disciples’ feet, we see a God who does not lord His power over us but instead uses His strength to serve and bless. This is the heart of the Father.
When we see Jesus lifted up on the cross, we see a God who is not reluctant to save. He is not distant or vindictive, but He is willing to go the distance. We see a God who is generous toward the undeserving. When we see Jesus resurrected from the dead, we see a God who is life-giving. Life is not just something He gives or something He has, but it is who He is. He is unstoppingly loving, bringing life out of death, joy out of despair, and light out of darkness. This is a love that cannot be defeated. When we see Jesus ascend to heaven’s throne, we see a God who welcomes and secures mankind’s place at His right hand, destined for eternal fellowship as His bride. Jesus’ ascension was an act of pure grace, not for His own benefit, since glory and dominion were always His, but to secure for His bride what she could never attain on her own: a place beside Him. This is the heart of the Father.
So, when my daughter calls me father, it’s not a title of formality. It’s the name of the one who laughs and is silly with her; who offers piggyback rides and coloring pages, cuddles and comfort. It’s the name of the one she knows will never love her less for the bad she does, nor love her more for the good she does.
This is the heart of a father.