Have you ever wondered what it would be like if God had voice mail? (this comes from Laurie Kelly, via internet). Imagine hearing this when you come to God in prayer: "Thank you for calling My Father’s House. Please select one of the following options:
Press 1 for General requests
2 for thanksgiving
3 for complaints
4 for healing
5 for help with the IRS
6 for rain
7 for miracles
8 for lottery winning numbers (good luck, we guess, too)
9 for all other inquiries or just to say hi
0 to hear this menu again.
Or, what if God used the familiar line, "I’m sorry, all the angels are helping other sinners right now. Please stay on the line. Your call is important to us and will be answered in the order in which it was received. You are caller # 3,186."
Or, "the office is closed for the weekend, please try again on Monday."
The good news is that God doesn't have voice mail, and God's office doesn't close at 5 p.m. God is closer than your cell phone, and easier to access than the internet. God's communication system never crashes. And God wants to hear from you. So let's begin our journey through the Lord's Prayer, and let this prayer lead us to a new and life-giving adventure in prayer.
We begin at the beginning: Our Father.....
To help us get inside the opening phrase of the prayer, we’re going to ask three questions: The question of gender, the question of intimacy, and the question of community.
Well we might as well get it over with and ask the gender question. Is God a man? Most of us have grown up with male images of God. Jesus called God father, not mother. In both the old and New Testaments, the overwhelming majority of references to God are male. It’s helpful, I think, to understand that both Hebrew and Greek are languages that attach gender endings to just about every word. Because the culture in which the Bible was written was patriarchal, they tended to attach male gender endings to anything that was highly valued or esteemed. Even if it didn’t fit the situation. For instance, in I Samuel 6 there is a description of two milk cows that are pressed into service to pull a cart carrying the Ark of the Covenant. The milk cows are clearly feminine, as their calves had to be taken away from them. But as soon as these two cows are put into service of the holy Ark of God, the writer piously converts them to the masculine gender.
It’s not surprising in an overwhelmingly patriarchal culture, to find that references to God are primarily masculine. What is surprising in light of the culture, is that the Bible gives us many strong feminine images of God as well. Such as the reference in Isaiah that we read, that compares God's persistent, nurturing love to that of a mother. And in the New Testament Jesus makes a reference to God as a mother hen, wanting to gather the children of God under her wings.
At the same time, there are many references in the Bible that show us that God is not limited by our human definitions. When Moses met God and asked for a name, God said, "I am who I am." The Bible also gives us metaphors of God as wind and flame, as a potter working with clay, as a vine, as living water, spirit, truth, love.
Is God a man? No. Is it ok to call God "she"? Sure, but doing that doesn’t solve the problem. Because God is not a woman either. God is God. As the old hymn says, immortal, invisible, God only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes.
Which brings us to our second question: If God is not a man, then what Jesus’ point in calling God Abba, Father? By calling God Abba, Jesus was using a term that probably sounded too familiar or even disrespectful, because Abba was the everyday word that a child would use to speak to her father. Something like Dad or even Daddy. By approaching God with this intimate name, Jesus is suggesting a major turning point in the way God and people relate to each other. The people of Israel were familiar with God as a powerful God, but somewhat distant. They knew the stories about the Exodus, and how God spoke to Moses and did marvelous things. They knew the tough words of the prophets. They worshiped God in the splendor of the temple. They prayed to God. But so far as they knew, God was way up in front, behind a thick curtain, in the holy of holies, where only the high priest could go, and he could only go once a year. They wouldn’t envision crawling up in God’s lap and getting a hug like you could with your dad.
But Jesus is saying: start thinking differently about who God is to you. God is as close as your Dad or your Mom. Closer. God is our heavenly parent.
The parenting metaphor is not without problems, though. Because for some of us, our human parents were not great models. Some of us had earthly parents who were distant, or absent, or cruel. We would hope that God would not be like them. Here again we want to be careful that we are not limiting God with our imagery. God is not necessarily like your dad or my dad or like your mom or my mom. God is like the best imaginable parent--loving, nurturing, challenging, encouraging, disciplining, guiding.
I read a story this week that illustrates the kind of parent God is. Almost two centuries ago, John Todd was born in Rutledge, Vermont, into a family of several children. Later they moved to the village of Killingsworth. There, at a very young age, both of John's parents died. The relatives wondered what they would do with so many children, how they could parcel them out to other friends and relatives. One dear and loving aunt said she would take little John. The aunt sent a horse and a slave to get John, who was only six at the time. The slave, Caesar, came and put the little boy on the back of the horse. On the way back this conversation took place:
John: Will she be there?
Caesar: Oh, yes, she'll be there waiting up for you.
John: Will I like living with her?
Caesar: My son, you fall into good hands.
John: Will she love me?
Caesar: Ah, she has a big heart.
John: Will I have my own room? Will she let me have a puppy?
Caesar: She's got everything all set, son. I think she has some surprises, too.
John: Do you think she'll go to bed before we get there?
Caesar: Oh, no! She'll be sure to wait up for you. You'll see when we get out of these woods. You'll see her candle shining in the window.
When they got to the clearing, sure enough, there was a candle in the window and she was standing in the doorway. She reached down, kissed him, and said, "Welcome home!" She fed him supper, took him to his room, and waited until he fell asleep. His new home became a place of great enchantment because of his aunt who loved him. It awed him that she had given him a second home. And that she had become a second mother to him. Years later, long after he was grown and moved away, his aunt wrote to tell him of her impending death. Her health was failing and she wondered what was to become of her. This is what John Todd wrote:
My Dear Aunt,
Years ago, I left a house of death not knowing where I was to go, whether anyone cared, whether it was the end of me. The ride was long but the slave encouraged me. Finally, he pointed out your candle to me and there we were in the yard and you embraced me and took me by the hand into my own room that you had made up. After all these years I still can't believe it--how you did all that for me! I was expected; I felt safe in that room--so welcomed. It was my room.
Now it's your turn to go, and as one who has tried it out, I'm writing to let you know that Someone is waiting up. Your room is all ready, the light is on, the door is open, and as you ride into the yard--don't worry, Auntie. You're expected! I know. I once saw God standing in your doorway-- long ago!" (Illustrations Unlimited, 378)
Those of you who are parents know how you feel about your kids. You know the extent to which you would go to see that they are provided for and protected. You know how much it means to you when your kids sit down with you and just talk about their day. When they share their hopes and dreams with you. God loves us that much and more.
When we understand that God is our parent, that gives us a great sense of security. It also raises yet a third question. If God is my parent and your parent, what does that make you and me? That's right. Spiritual siblings. Brothers and sisters. Members of one family of God. In our culture, we are very individualistic and very ownership conscious. It's a dog-eat-dog world that we live in and we are out to take care of number one. We’re competitive, even with those we care about.
Two friends went camping in the woods. They woke up the first morning and were standing by their tent having their first cup of coffee for the day when they suddenly spotted a grizzly bear heading for them at full speed. Quickly, the one man reached down and grabbed his Nikes and started putting them on. The other man looked at him and said, "What are you doing? Do you think you can outrun that grizzly bear?" And the first man said, "No, and I don't need to. All I need to do is to outrun you!" (ill unlmtd, 452)
But when we call God OUR Father, that necessarily changes how we view each other. How we treat each other. Our Christian faith is not purely a private matter. Not just me and God. It is personal, it is intimate. But it isn't private. It involves the other members of the family. We are members of one family, and when we call God our parent, we must learn to love the other members of our family as well.
The flip side of that is that it’s our brothers and sisters in the faith that help us to feel the touch of God. I suspect you’ve heard the old story about the young child who was afraid of the dark. His mom sent him out on the porch one dark night to get a broom. He said he didn’t want to go unless she went with him. She said, "It’s ok, honey, Jesus is out there." The little boy wasn’t impressed. He said, "I want someone with skin on."
It’s in the community of faith that God’s love reaches out and touches us—love with skin on.
So when you pray the Lord’s Prayer, and say, "Our Father. . ." pause for a moment and think about what you’re saying. God is beyond any human definition, yet God is also closer than your closest friend. God welcomes you to the family with open arms, and when you pray, you’re not alone.