A Fatherly God

Mark 10:13-16: People were bringing children to him in order that he might touch them, and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.

About a year ago or so, I was on a Zoom call with a group of ladies who all identified exvangelicals. Exvangelical is one of those terms that has become extremely loaded in the public discourse over the past several years, and when people hear it, they tend to make all kinds of assumptions, but for these women, what it meant was that the evangelical churches of their youths had failed them in various ways. Some of them had been shunned after a family member had come forward with a problem that had been deemed too inappropriate for nice church people to have to think about. A few had been pushed out after getting divorced, or getting pregnant before they were married. Others had been compelled to leave after discovering that their pastors had been involved in abuse scandals, and that the elders of the church had sacrificed the safety of others in order to keep it a secret. A couple had even wanted to become pastors and had been told that women were not allowed to serve God in that way.

Each woman on the call loved Jesus immensely, but were dealing with differing levels of pain and trauma, and when I was asked to pray at the end of our call, I didn’t think about any of that baggage. I simply prayed in the way that I often do—addressing God as “Father.” When the prayer was over, there was some visible discomfort amongst the group, and after some hemming and hawing, one of the ladies reluctantly mentioned that it had surprised her to hear me refer to God in that way. As a female pastor, she had thought that I would choose to give God a different, more forward-thinking name. That was old language—traumatic language—even. It had reminded her of the version of following Jesus that she and others on the call had left behind.

I apologized, because even if I hadn’t meant to be offensive, I had been—and it is personally important to me that I take ownership of what I say and do—regardless of my intentions. I feel like God has called me to peacemaking and to bridge building, and I can’t do that if I’m not meeting people where they’re at. I also explained that God as Father is a way of thinking about God that resonates with me. Just as I enjoy thinking about God as my Mother in Heaven, I love thinking about God as my Father in Heaven. It works for me and for my relationship with God. God can be both to me, and sometimes, depending on what is going on in my world, one soothes my soul more than the other.

It all ended up being fine. Nobody was mad at me, and I wasn’t mad at them. Words do very much matter, but in that particular circumstance, the way that I had reflexively prayed hadn’t really mattered that much. But a couple of them did mention that they simply currently understand my fondness for referring to God as “Father.” They believed that God is love, and therefore, the “Father” moniker didn’t fit. A God who was Father—in their life experiences—had only led to things that were anything but loving.

Hearing that comment—that God can’t be Love and a Father—broke my heart that day, and it still breaks my heart, a whole year later. I know that in comparison to some people, that I am very lucky in the dad department. My dad is a really great dad. I have always had a positive father-daughter relationship with him, and I know that he loves me, even if he doesn’t say those actually words. Not everyone can say the same. But even so, it shouldn’t be that big of a stretch that a loving God can also be a Fatherly God. It shouldn’t be the case that some of us are using the word “father” to tell them who God is instead of defining the word “father” based on who God is. It’s completely backwards, which makes me wonder: Can we maybe start over? Can we look at God and then look at Fathering, and move backwards from there?

Unfortunately, we do not have time to look at every single instance where God’s character might paint a positive picture of what it means to be a father, so we’ll just have to settle on one in particular. In the gospel of Mark, there is a story where people are bringing children to Jesus. This doesn’t seem unusual to us—of course a parent would want their child to be acknowledged and blessed by Jesus—but in Jesus’s day, this would have been unheard of. Children in those days were not allotted to them the same level of reverence that we allot to them in modern times. We treat children like people. Ancient civilizations treated them like property. And property doesn’t dare to waste the time of someone as important as Jesus—hence the disciples’ negative reaction.

But Jesus didn’t mind the children coming to Him. In fact, He liked it. He enjoyed the interaction, and when He realized that the disciples were trying to get rid of the children, He put His foot down. He told the disciples that the Kingdom of God belonged to the children, and He took the children into His arms. He even went so far as to tell the disciples that they should be more like children. In other words, the children mattered. They were essential. They were not just property. They belonged, and their share in what Jesus was offering was as big as anyone else’s.

When this is who God is—a God who becomes flesh and who is not only born into the world as a child, but who also rejects culture and custom and who welcomes little children and asks that they be brought to Him—it really does flip our scripts. It takes the concept of God as Father and turns it completely upside-down. If God is gentle and God is our Father in Heaven, then God as Father is gentle. If God can look into a crowd and see the people who need Him the most and reach out to them no matter what anyone says, and God is our Father in Heaven, then God is trustworthy. If God’s love knows no bounds—if everyone receives God’s love regardless of who they are or of what they have done, or of anyone else—and God is our Father in Heaven, then God as Father is Love. If God’s involvement in our lives is not just one of creation, but one of committed care, and God is our Father in Heaven, then God as Father is the deepest love that any of us will ever know.

Please understand that I am not trying to force God as Father on anyone. This is the same as the “God as Mother” sermon that I give on Mothers’ Day. If you don’t love the titles, it’s fine. If your relationships with your earthly parents aren’t great, and you don’t want to use parent language for God, it’s okay. If calling God “Father” brings up for you memories of people who treated you badly, or who used force and called it love, or who put the pursuit of power over you and who refuses to choose you, then don’t feel like you have to call God that. The point of this sermon is not to prove to you why you should call God “Father.” The point that I am trying to make—what I am trying to say—is that God loves you more than you can ever imagine.

You can rely on God to be the best version of “father.” You can trust God to be merciful. You can depend on God to be kind. You can be confident in God’s fierce faithfulness to you, and in His propensity for protecting us, making space for us, including us, and saving us. You can rest assured that God will call you out when you need called out, and give you a gentle kick in the pants. You can know for certain that God will always be who you need Him to be. We can all celebrate Fathers’ Day today—regardless of our circumstances—because God is Love and God is Father. God is wrapping us up in His arms, and providing us with His peaceful, gentle, grace-filled, constant, and all-encompassing love.

So, if you are missing your dad today—Happy Fathers’ Day! God is Father, but at the same time, God doesn’t replace the beloved dads who we have lost. May God’s love envelop you and support you as you remember. May God balance out your grief with joy.

If you are celebrating your dad today—Happy Fathers’ Day! Soak up the fun. Enjoy the quality time. Rest easy in the love that you receive from both your earthly father and your Father in Heaven.

If your relationship with your dad is complicated or non-existent—Happy Fathers’ Day! You don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to, but you also don’t have to let the day pass by if you don’t want it to. Your Father in Heaven loves you so much. Nothing can separate you from Him. Nothing can break that relationship.

If you are a dad—Happy Fathers’ Day! I hope that your day is wonderful. I hope that your children see how much you love them. And I hope that God’s love for you is a constant well of support and grace for you.

If you are not a biological dad, but you are a stepfather or a father figure—Happy Fathers’ Day! So many people have been impacted by loving and selfless people like you. Loving a child who is not your own is such a beautiful embodiment of God’s love. Never forget that Jesus had a stepfather.

If you hated this sermon and don’t want to think of God as Father—Happy Fathers’ Day! God is not a tyrant. God is not abusive. God is not withholding or demanding. God is not unyielding. God is Love, in the truest sense of the word.

Happy Father’s Day to all of us, Friends. May God’s love embrace us, change us, and hold us—today and always.