Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness | Part 3: Provision

Our earthly fathers have duties that continue. One that surely comes to mind is oversight. That’s a duty of both parents—and older siblings as well—but again, fathers, because they usually are physically stronger than anyone else in a young family, are seen not only as providers but also as overseers, those who watch for the needs of the family (particularly physical and financial needs) and act to meet them when they arise.

Contrariwise, we don’t think much of a father who’s so wrapped up in his work, or the ball game, or the news, that his wife’s or child’s needs go unnoticed or unattended to.

A good Dad pays attention.

God is like that.

Jesus says, “Your Father … sees in secret” (Mt 6.18). And he’s not talking here about spying on you; he’s talking about seeing what good things you do and rewarding you for them. Dads watch for accomplishments, delight in them, and express praise.

Jesus continues the thought by adding that because your Father is paying attention, he also notices when you have a need (Mt 6.32). And because he’s your Father, he moves to meet that need.

In 1989 my wife and I, and our 12-month-old daughter, were traveling to Pennsylvania to spend Christmas with family. As was our practice, we split the 12-hour trip into two days for a more relaxing drive. We spent the night at a motel in southwestern Virginia, and Christmas Eve morning we set out to finish the trip.

It was unusually cold that morning—below zero Fahrenheit—and I was a bad father; it never occurred to me to check the antifreeze before starting out. If I had, I’d have seen that the radiator was frozen solid. A few miles up the road, as the system began to heat up, the lower radiator hose exploded. Steam was everywhere, and it was challenging to see to get the car safely off the interstate highway.

Pretty quickly I determined that it was the coolant system, not the engine. I knew we were just two or three miles from the next exit, and I figured that with the cold air, we might be able to make it there without coolant. Fired ‘er up and set off slowly, in the breakdown lane. When the engine temp began to rise, I stopped again and waited for it to cool down.

That worked twice, but the cold temperatures also cut down on the battery’s cranking power, and on the third try the engine wouldn’t crank.

Stuck by the side of the highway at 5 below. Because I hadn’t paid attention.

I marveled at how quickly we had gone from comfort and civilization to utter wilderness.

We sat for a while, hoping that a highway patrolman would come along, but there wasn’t much traffic, and soon the cold began to be a concern for us, with a 12-month-old in the car. I got out and flagged down a passing car, and an older couple gave me a ride to the exit.

There at that exit was an automotive repair shop. And they were open. On Christmas Eve. Which, that year, was a Saturday.

What are the chances?

And, believe it or not, they had a tow truck. So the driver and I hopped in and returned to the scene of my crime, and brought wife, baby, and car back to the shop. Thawed out the radiator, replaced the hose, and refilled it with the right concentration of antifreeze.

They didn’t take credit cards, and they didn’t take out-of-state checks. We weren’t carrying that much cash.

They took the check.

And a couple of hours after fearing for our lives, we were back on the road to Grandma’s house for Christmas.

Does God watch out for us, even when we don’t deserve it?

You bet he does.

Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness

What else does is God for us, because he is our Father?

I suppose the most obvious thing a father does for his family is to provide what they need. Often the first thing a wife will say to commend her husband is that “he is a good provider.” That’s expected in cultures all around the world. The father will see to it that his family has a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. And that makes sense: since the mother is typically tasked with the care of the children, and since, at least in cultures where most paid work requires physical labor, the father is the physically stronger of the couple, it falls to the father to “bring home the bacon.”

Our heavenly Father isn’t bound by either of those constraints, but he still provides for us his children, and abundantly. Jesus has already noted that he gives rain to the just and to the unjust (Mt 5.45), but that’s just the beginning. I’ve written before on the fact that everything we really need—both physical and spiritual—is free, thanks to God’s provision. But Jesus takes it beyond common grace.

He delights to give to his children, to meet their needs, and even to give them extra. Jesus tells us to just ask the Father, and he will give us what we need: “pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you” (Mt 6.6). Just earlier, he has said that if we make charitable contributions in secret, the Father will reward us (Mt 6.4). There are other references to the Father’s “reward” in this chapter (Mt 6.1, 18). And he knows what his children need even before they ask (Mt 6.8).

Then Jesus gives his disciples a pattern for daily prayer—what we’ve come to call “The Lord’s Prayer.” We call on our Father (Mt 6.9), and we ask him for “our daily bread” (Mt 6.11)—because even though our earthly father goes to work to bring home the bacon, his ability to do so—and our ability, once we’re working—comes from God, both in his giving of health and strength and in his providential direction.

Now Jesus uses an earthy illustration to set his point. Look at the lilies, he says; they don’t do anything to provide for themselves, yet the Father arrays them in clothing of unsurpassed beauty. Look at the birds; they do no agriculture whatsoever, but the Father sees that they always have food when they need it—seeds, berries, a worm or two. Even when nature is broken by sin, “red in tooth and claw,” as Tennyson put it, the creatures of the earth manage to survive and even thrive on the Father’s generous provision.

Jesus is using here a rhetorical device called an a fortiori argument, working from the weak to the strong. If the Father provides for birds and flowers, how much more will he provide for his actual children?

He makes the point again in the next chapter—

If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him! (Mt 7.11).

And it goes even further. If he will provide our temporal, physical needs, how much more the eternal, spiritual ones? He justifies us, declaring us to be perfect, as he is perfect (2Co 5.21); he sanctifies us, setting us aside as his special treasure (1P 2.9), and progressively conforming us to the character of his Son (2Co 3.18); and one day, no matter how far we are from the finish line of perfection, he will take us the rest of the way (1J 3.2), by his grace, because that’s what we need.

That’s what fathers do.

Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

The Scripture uses a lot of metaphors to describe God’s relationship with his people; it’s almost as though that relationship is so rich, so round, so multifaceted, so complex that no single earthly relationship can picture it all. The one we think of the most, though—the one that Jesus begins his pattern prayer with—is “Father.”

It’s a term widely misunderstood, especially in that theological liberals frequently speak of the “universal fatherhood of God,” with the implication that all humans are brothers, and, further, that “we all worship the same God.” Given that the gods worshiped by various cultural groups—Jews, Muslims, Hindus, animists, Christians—have significantly different natures, that statement is illogical on its face.

Christians have frequently rejected this liberal tenet—the “universal fatherhood of God”—outright, because, well, that’s what you do with liberal ideas. But our responsibility isn’t to reject reactively any view of a heretical group, but to test it by the Scripture and to be guided to the scriptural truth.

Interestingly, there is a sense in which God is the Father of all in that he is the source of their life; he is their Creator. Paul endorses this idea by citing a classical Greek poet in his sermon at Mars Hill in Athens: “we are his offspring” (Acts 17.28, citing Aratus, Phaenomena, line 5, referring to Zeus). The idea that we are all God’s created offspring is certainly biblical.

But typically when we speak of God as our Father, we’re speaking of the narrower sense in which God usually uses it—of those who are His children through the new birth, whom He has adopted into His family. 

There are about 100 passages in the New Testament that speak of God as our Father. There’s a cluster of them—by my count, about 1/6 of the total—in the Sermon on the Mount. Further, most of the important applications that the Bible makes concerning the fatherhood of God are condensed into this one sermon. It’s worth our time to take a few posts to meditate on what Jesus has to say here about this topic.

Those of us who grew up in church probably noticed in our childhood Bibles that there’s a section of Matthew where the red letters fill whole pages. There are actually two, if you include the Olivet Discourse in Matthew 24-25, but the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7 is longer. Bible students have long recognized the unique power of this sermon, from the Beatitudes with which it opens to the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders with which it ends. The judgment of its first hearers is certainly accurate: “[Jesus] taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes” (Mt 7.29).

What does Jesus have to say about the relationship between us and our Heavenly Father? In what ways is God like a Father to us? Perhaps surprisingly, the teaching seems to be organized logically as Jesus progresses through the Sermon; if we survey his uses of the word father in order, they seem to make a logical outline.

His first reference to the Father is in Matthew 5.16: “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

In what is almost a casual reference, Jesus assumes that our primary goal in life is to behave in such a way that others will “give glory to” our Father, or see him as worthy of respect, exaltation, even worship. Hot on the heels of the Beatitudes, which are bestowals of blessings on us, he assumes that after all, we are not the center of the universe, and that our comfort and blessing should not be our primary motivation.

We’re here to generate profound respect for someone else.

In most cultures this fits well with the concept of fatherhood. Your father is someone you respect, desire to please, and seek to obey.

Of course, all earthly fathers are flawed; none are worthy of worship, and there are many examples of fathers who are not even worthy of respect.

But God is the perfect example of fatherhood; he does all things well.

He has been a perfect Father to me and to you, and so we start with respect, with glory.

There’s much more to follow.

Part 2: Likeness | Part 3: Provision | Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash