June 15, 2008
Chris Strevel

I learned my first lessons about my heavenly Father from my earthly father. He was affectionate, willing to give and receive physical love. He provided, working odd jobs like cutting grass and loading delivery trucks in order to supplement his often-meager income. He was engaged: talking, laughing, going to our school and sporting events, and loving Christmas gifts. He was patient, sometimes waiting until his anger or frustration had sufficiently subsided before applying the rod of correction. He was a protector – from the world’s ungodly influence by limiting television and music to what was wholesome and edifying, warning against unhealthy friendships, and sacrificing to place us in Christian schools. He revered God, making sure our home was a worship center and our souls were fed with the preaching of the whole counsel of God. He loved the church by serving as an elder, resisting compromise in doctrine, practice, and worship.

My father taught me that my heavenly Father would talk with me; in fact, he says so much that a lifetime of studying his word is too short to know the wonderful things that eye has not seen nor ear heard, but which have been revealed to us in the word by his Spirit. The Bible thus became my constant companion through my father’s practice and example. He also taught me that my heavenly Father would listen to me, though I am weak and nothing. I heard him pray – not the halting, occasional prayers of those unaccustomed to crying, “Father,” but the free and confident prayers of one long-experienced in pouring out his humbled heart to God in prayer. My father poignantly taught me that knowing God really is eternal life; I saw this while watching him die in a hospital bed. He wanted God’s word read to him. He told me to read God’s word, to find my joy in God regardless of my circumstances.

But his fathering had its limits. He could not reach my rebellious heart; his teaching and personal example, however, led me to the One who could transform my heart. He could not be everywhere, guard me from every danger, or correct my every fault. Yet, because he walked with God meaningfully and in every season of life, I learned I could never escape my heavenly Father and misery would follow if I tried. He died early, my chief human prop and influence removed when I needed him most; yet, there was another, the eternal Father, whose power and love is forever, whose nearness is life itself. When my earthly father left, my heavenly Father took me up.

Not everyone is blessed with a good earthly father. This is one reason that fatherhood in general has fallen upon such hard times. Everything from lesbian mothers to gender-neutral translations of Scripture testifies to the failure of fathers. If fathers become figureheads, harshly authoritarian, or work-obsessed, children learn to distrust their heavenly Father, even to deny their need of him. Disdain for earthly fathers usually leads to hatred for our heavenly Father.

I can do little about this situation except to encourage fathers with this simple truth: more than any other human factor, your earthly fathering defines your children’s understanding of their heavenly Father. It is the way the universe is set up. It is the capstone of our faith, that God is our Father through Jesus Christ. Earthly fathering is thus the daily roadmap to teach children the way to view and relate to God as their Father. Hence, when there is a vacuum of human fathers, it is only a matter of time before the young become distrustful of God, self-directed, and stubborn. Piety simply cannot flourish well apart from strong fathers who mirror our heavenly Father.

There is one thing about God’s fathering in particular, fathers, you must mirror. God is near. His nearness is not casual familiarity, a big friend in the sky, as so many modern parenting models stress. God’s nearness is never independent of his transcendence; in fact, he is and can be near to us because he is sovereign and holy. Hence, fathers, you do your children no good at all if you are unrespectable – either in your demeanor, manners, or words. You may be near – screaming, brooding, complaining – but you are not pleasantly near, respectably near, meaningfully near. And you must not allow familiarity to lead to manipulation. Too often, fathers, in their desire to be close to their children, or to keep from pushing them away, compromise principles. Our heavenly Father sustains a principled closeness to us – always loving, yet never caving in to our waywardness; always compassionate, yet never exalting our wishes or feelings over his word. Be near to your children, fathers, but remember that your nearness to your children is defined and must be directed by our Father’s nearness.

It is important to recognize that living in principled nearness is most difficult with respect to those with whom we live in close proximity. We see their faults; they see ours. The nearer we are to a person, the more uncomfortable that relationship can be, especially if we are committed to holiness. Think of our heavenly Father. It is often remarked that the closer a man is to God his Father, the more he senses his own sinfulness. We see in this in every major biblical character. Nearness to God never produced giddiness of soul, indifference to the divine majesty – nearness intensified the sense of God’s transcendent greatness even while it irresistibly drew the believing soul ever closer to its life and joy. In the same way, a father’s nearness will often bring a certain degree of discomfort to children, especially if that nearness is accompanied by consistency in words and actions, a holy life, a consistent example. This is the reason fathers must be willing to have tension in the home – not tension produced by a bad attitude, harsh words, or an unfriendly demeanor – but the tension inherent in biblical fatherhood. You, father, are a holy leader of your family, and your holiness, if it is consistent and loving, will be a challenge to your wife and children. God is using you to correct and refine them; he wants your fathering to reveal important facets of his ultimate Fatherhood. Dynamic tension is the source of growth, for it challenges families. It challenged me. It still challenges me. I cannot relate to God on my terms but on his. He is my Father, to be sure, but he is my holy Father. He is full of grace, yes, but his grace is never lawless.

It is no wonder that a Christian father in the home is an indescribable force for good. His presence in the home is God in the home – near and loving, holy and challenging. Many of us are very uncomfortable with this idea. We like distance leadership, satellite preachers, and mega-churches. We want the challenge to be kept at arm’s length. Christian fathers, do not allow your presence to be emasculated, demystified, and trivialized. Whenever our heavenly Father draws near to us in grace and truth, his presence is life-giving, and it is challenging. It is loving, and it is transforming. Through the combination of his transcendent sovereignty and covenant nearness, he changes us. He is willing to make us a bit uncomfortable so that we may finally enjoy him in submission, holiness, and responsive love.

Perhaps you did not have a father like this; few of us did. For the past several generations, “father” has been reduced to bread-winner, the oldest athlete in the home, or the gadget guy. If he gets in the way of “living our own life,” we leave him behind. In this, our attitudes toward our heavenly Father are tragically reflected. A truly near father is supposed to fill us with a little bit of awe, make us a little uncomfortable, challenge us a little. Our heavenly Father does. He does so because he is nearby. He draws near to us through his Son, in a covenant of life, with an absolute commitment to our temporal and eternal good. None of these, however, trump truth. He always draws near to us in the truth and with the truth – of his own glory, of our life in him, and of the necessity of living by every word that comes from his blessed mouth. If you never had such a father, you still must be such a father. I would suggest you draw near to your heavenly Father, and learn from him the way to be a true father. He is as nearby to you through Jesus Christ as you would be to your own children. He is the only one who can teach you to be a nearby father in the full sense of the phrase – near in love and grace, in truth and in holiness, and with a challenge to aspire to his everlasting kingdom.