Our Father in Heaven

It didn’t take long for the disciples to connect Jesus’ vibrant prayer life to the gifts and miracles flowing through his life. Seeing him do and say what the Father was doing and saying implored them to say: “Teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). In teaching us what I call “the family prayer” (not the Lord’s Prayer), Jesus first instructs us to approach God as “our Father.”

Right out of the chute, he ushers us to the One he came to reveal. He doesn’t say “My Father” or “Once you believe, then he’ll be your Father.” Instead, and interestingly before his death and resurection, he instructs them to approach God as “Our Father.” Sounds a lot like Malachi: “Have we not all one Father? Has not one God created us?” (Malachi 2:10a; nkjv). Paul follows suit when he says: “For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name” (Ephesians 3:14-15 NASB)

In teaching them to pray, Christ draws out the nature of God as Father. He doesn’t highlight the nature of God as a judge, nor as a king, but as a Father. Although God does judge, he does so from the basis of being a Father. Likewise, even though God does rule in all things, he does so from his intimate abode and home—not a distant, unapproachable throne.

For many of us in the Western world, we’ve inherited a view of God that’s congruent with the Western courtroom. In this, we’ve imagined God—much like a Western courtroom judge—as distant and isolated, even alone and fickle. Sadly, this perspective (the “god of our own imagination”) has yielded terrible consequences—we find it utterly terrifying to approach him, much less to come forth with the “boldness” the writer of Hebrews instructs us to. For this reason, we have a difficult time seeing the living room for the courtroom.

When we see God through the lens of a Western courtroom god (who is retributive and uninterested in relationship), our minds find it impossible to reconcile the nature of Christ Jesus with Abba Father. When we imagine God sitting on an unapproachable, lofty throne, we will not see the Father as caring, loving, and personal—the God whom Jesus so clearly demonstrated.

For this, we will be doomed into believing God the Father is different than God the Son. We may say They are one, but if one side of our mind positions God the Father as an isolated, distant, and unapproachable judge while the other side positions Jesus as close and caring, then we will inevitably split the Trinity within the depths of our soul. This dualistic mindset will inevitably result in a “double-minded man” who’s unstable in all of his ways.

For this reason, I believe it’s imperative we not only say this prayer, but that we slow down to think and meditate on it. That’s why when I teach on this prayer, I encourage the listener to say “Our Father” very slowly, letting it sink down deep and take root within our heart. Jesus knew that if we didn’t start off in prayer on the right foot, we would more than likely miss the point of prayer: to experience endless joy and vibrancy of fellowship with him. To truly know him. This is why in the opening of this “family prayer,” we encounter an eternal truth: more important than understanding what we pray is understanding Whom we are praying with. Seeing the Father with the eyes of Christ will provoke us to ongoing discovery and fascination.

The Father is holy (set apart and unlike any other) and reserves every right to demand worship and reverence. At least, that’s what we’ve been taught. However, God’s version of holiness is different than ours. We imagine holiness to be some sort of guard that keeps the greater object (God) from the “lesser” object (mankind). In fact, this concept of God’s “holiness” is at the root of Penal Substitution Theory, in that it declares God’s holiness to be a sort of antiseptic (I’ll be going into more depth on this specific theory in a later chapter).

We’re told “God can’t look on sin because he is holy” (which is a poor translation of one, single verse: Habakkuk 1:13). However, when we read the verse in its entirety, we see a beautiful truth: although God does have pure eyes, it seems the prophet is baffled by the fact that he does look on sin. He says: “Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrongdoing. Why then do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?” (Habakkuk 1:13; [niv]). Do you see that? It’s almost like Habakkuk first imagines God to be distant and somewhat disconnected from our brokenness but then, all of sudden, has a mid-prophecy-revelation concerning the Father’s mercy to meet us in our sin and rebellion.

You see, the Abba revealed in Jesus possesses a higher holiness and transcendent nature that draws us close. This is seen in the ministry of Jesus who, by walking in union with the Father, drew near to the broken, burned out, bad, rebellious, callous, and downright sin-ridden peasant.

In his holiness—his “unlike any other” nature—he closed in on those who were considered outside and excluded. In no way did he deflect, deny, or turn his gaze away from the sinner. Instead, he demonstrated the far-reaching heart of his Father by walking over 3,100 miles during his earthly ministry (that’s nearly 900 miles/year, 73 miles/month, 2.5 miles/day). Jesus did not avoid those who had strayed away, but in the heart of Abba Father, he pursued them to heal them, teach them, dine with them, cast demons from them, disciple them, and lay hands on them.

Although prohibited by the law, the Great Holy One touched the unclean and cleansed the leper. When we behold the works of Jesus, we encounter an intimate, close, and caring Father—this is the overarching message of the incarnation. Encountering God as a Father is foundational to growing in prayer. As we come alive to the eternal truth that he loves and longs to know us intimately—in spite of our momentary mess and human broken-ness—it provides fervency and devotion to Christ. As we grow in discovery of the holy, relational, caring, and intimate nature of “Our Father,” our prayer life will grow in substantial confidence and fervor.

To the Son, heaven is a place of intimacy and interaction where we fellowship with the Father of glory. It’s the place where our heart and emotions are transformed. For this reason, we, just like Jesus Christ, can approach with gladness and awestruck boldness. We can draw close with fascination!

So, go ahead and ditch the cold, dark courtroom “god,” and let your heart come alive in his presence. Friends, in this very-present moment, you are at home in him!

This comes from the chapter from my latest book, Fascinated. To get your copy, click here.