My Dad
A few weeks ago I was in the room with a family as their dad, grandpa, brother … died. Watching him take his last breath and then seeing the effects of death set in took me back three years to the day my dad died.
In the flood of emotions it also brought to mind his life and the relationship we had.
Through the years, there were few people I enjoyed working with more than my dad.
For most of those years I watched and assisted him. I would hand him tools and hold boards as we talked.
Then, not long after my folks moved in with us, there came a time when he would start a project and then get stuck. He’d forget how to do something or realize he was no longer strong enough so he would come to get me – usually when I was in the middle of something else.
At first I found it a bit irritating, but later realized it was a privilege, even if it was inconvenient. Sometimes we would just talk through the challenge. Other times I would complete a step or two – or finish the project for him.
Later, he loved watching me work on projects. He would hand me tools and hold boards as we talked.
Then the time finally came when he was no longer strong enough to make the trek downstairs to the shop.
One thing was consistent through the years. If my brother or I were troubled or unwell, my father shared our concerns. He wasn’t always expressive, but you could sense his concern, he worried about us more than we realized. If there was something he could do to fix it, he would.
I grew up thinking that’s just how father’s are. I now know not every father was like that. I understand I’m extremely blessed to have a father that modeled God’s unconditional love and desire for my best good.
The Psalmist wrote:
The Lord is compassionate and merciful, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love … The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust. (Psalm 103:8-12, NLT)
When I read this, I see images of my father. It make me lean into this picture of God because if God is anything like my dad, I know I will not only love Him, but I will like Him and enjoy being with Him.
In Revelation 21:7, at the end of sin in this world – the beginning of an eternity where there will be no more death, sorrow, crying or pain – God says:
All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children. (Revelation 21:7, NLT)
While I like the inclusiveness of this translation, the original language is more personal – it’s not plural, but singular. To me this makes it more powerful. It’s speaking to you and me individually. It says “… he will be my son” – or, “… she will be my daughter.”
That statement draws me in. He wants me in His family. He wants you too.
His invitation to come is always open!
“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest …” (Matthew 11:28-30, NLT)
And He’s not just leaving it to chance, He’s even knocking on the door asking you to let Him in!
“Look! I stand at the door and knock …” (Revelation 3:30, NLT)
He wants to be with you!
How are you going to respond? It’s your move now!