This is not Abba

“A false and illusionary notion of God…sees God as someone who is gracious to me when I am good, but who punishes me relentlessly when I am bad. This is a typical patriarchal notion of God. He is the God of Noah who sees people deep in sin, repents that He made them and resolves to destroy them. He is the God of the desert who sends snakes to bite his people because they murmured against Him. He is the God of David who practically decimates a people because their king, motivated by pride perhaps, takes up a census of his empire. He is the God who exacts the last drop of blood from his Son, so that his just anger, evoked by sin, may be appeased. This God whose moods alternate between graciousness and fierce anger, a god who is still all too familiar to many Christians–is a caricature of the true God. This God does not exist. This is not the God whom Jesus reveals to us. This is not the God whom Jesus called “Abba.”  ”

-William Shannon

 

Father, Abba, Daddy, I want to know you. I want the REAL you and not a false caricature. I want YOU. I know in my head that you are the Father, and I know in my head that I am your child; but I don’t understand that kind of love. I want you to come near to me and love me with the tenderest love and deepest compassion. I want to be held and kept in your love. Oh Abba, I long for you.

Daddy Love

Lord, show me how you are a Father.

He walks in with her at his side. I see how he delights in his daughter, this small, wide eyed 5 year-old. He hugs her, smiles, and tells her to have a good day at school. She hugs him again and then runs off, but comes right back. “Hey daddy? Can you wait until I put this in my backpack and then can I hug you again?”  “Oh of course, absolutely!” He looks at me and I see the love in his eyes, “She melts my heart!” he says. They hug again and he holds her as he kneels. He comes to me and tells me that she has been picked on at school; an older student assigned to be her lunch buddy said he didn’t like her. She came home and said “Daddy why don’t the other kids like me? Is something wrong with me?” He was hurt for her, he was sad for her, he wanted more for her.  He asked me if there was anything I could do. Could she change to a different buddy? This boy doesn’t like her and now she has to sit with him…isn’t there a different option?

Oh the love and delight and defense that He has for me. My Father. 

He saw her in the hallway as he came to pick her up. She ran to him and he lifted her up, his blond haired 5th grade daughter. He put her down and came over to me, “Well obviously I’m her dad!” he said grinning as I handed him the sign-out sheet. They waited in the hallway for her sister and she told him an animated story with hand motions and he responded with the same movements. His face showed that he was delighted in sharing this conversation with his daughter. He was enjoying himself, he was listening, he was intrigued with her.

Oh the love and delight and intrigue that He has for me. He claims himself as My Father.

He went out and found her on the playground. She saw him and ran to him and was swept into his strong arms. Her excited, joyful squeal was heard from such a far distance and giggles bubbled out of her smile.

Oh the strength of His arms and the joy that exists in His presence.

He came and his son walked over straight into his arms to be held for a moment. “Hey buddy, I’m glad to see you,” his dad said.

Oh to know His quiet delight as I come to him.

Oh God, you are a good father. And you call me your daughter. Continue to bring this intimacy into a reality where I can see and know and understand. I desire to be Yours.