A sweet, soft voice comes from the kitchen echoing up the stairs. My grandson is here. They traveled all day yesterday so he could stay. And we’ll delight in the sound of him three whole days. We’ve enjoyed him before but never by his six-year-old self. Bravely admitting his nervousness, we surround him with familiarness. “Remember when…” and he smiles, rolls his eyes, and it’s just like old times, only better—the three of us together.
Up with the sun, Grandpa and Paul are dipping buttery, fried, egg-soaked bread in warm maple syrup. Paul looks forward to eating Grandpa’s French toast almost as much as Grandpa savors serving him. It’s tradition. Like cake on your birthday. And no one celebrates you like Grandpa. Making the most boring task a reason to laugh. Listening in, I’m taking it slow. Picturing the two of them drenched in this moment. Diving board and wheels in the mud are on the schedule but no one’s in a hurry for anything to be over.
This is how I picture God Fathering us.
The Word, the richest breakfast. He knows just what we need. Defending, shielding from what we can’t see. Setting a table for faith and belief. All our pleasures He’s made from scratch. Counted our steps, set a straight path. Our learning and growing are His delight. Every smile and tear kept airtight. Not a prayer from our lips is ever missed. The desires of our heart on the top of His list.
Do you know the Father like this? You can. It’s the whole wide reason Jesus came. To give you His name. Liberate from your fallen state. Far more than any finite father, gentler than your own mother, listens longer than a sister, sticks closer than a brother. It’s impossible for this One to make a mistake, drop the ball, or show up late. The Father you longed for all your life, in front, behind, by your side. One baring such care-fullness your eyes cry for joy of it. He is Lord and lioness over His kids requirements.
Think you don’t have time for breakfast? It’s the newest lie in the land. Fact is, our spirit is willing—it’s the flesh that won’t eat. We tell ourselves, “I’ll eat later.”—and we go stressed and anxious half the day.
Opening the word when we wake is the most important meal of the day. Just the two of us. Savoring the cream of truth, the sweetness of grace. Slowing the pace. Filling our heart with love from the start. The Father treasures the pleasures of seeing you, hearing you, feeding you. Looked forward to you before you were you. Prayed for you before going to the cross, “May they all be one, as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they may also be in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me.” (Jn 17:21)
Here’s the icing on the cake: we are not alone—ever. There’s Someone bigger we can rely on. We get dressed in Jesus: the reality that we are loved, redeemed, and empowered by God. Our mind is not left to its own madness. All unknown under control.
It’s hard to guess what comes next, but we’re content to follow His footsteps—because He’s never not done remarkable things. Oceans more than we could ask or think.
“Oh God, You are my God, early will I seek You. My soul thirsts for You, my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.” (Ps 63:1)