My Father

One of my hobbies is genealogy. I have been tracing my ancestry (along with that of my husband and my in-laws) for many years. I am fortunate, in that I know who my parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents were, when and where they were born, and when and where they died. Most my ancestors lived in the same area for at least five generations, some for seven or eight generations.

My great grandfather and his cousin, c. 1885

I know many others who struggle with genealogy, or have lost interest in “finding their roots.” Some are adopted, or their parents were adopted. The records have been sealed, or worse, lost, and they cannot find out even the name of a parent or grandparent to trace. Others have a murky and mysterious family history– someone in their family was illegitimate or born out of wedlock and no biological father can be confirmed.

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Almost everyone who works on genealogy has, as one point, “hit a wall.” There are some people whose history is lost. They moved frequently, or they lived in a city or town where records were destroyed by fire or flood; some changed their name to avoid persecution or prosecution–some where enslaved and their names erased against their will; some lived at the edge of the wilderness, where few records were kept, and fewer still survived; some died young; some were illiterate, and left no written records. Many families have boxes or albums filled with unidentified (and unidentifiable) photos.

Some genealogists “hit gold.” They find in their family history a famous person from the past– a king or queen, military hero, chieftain, statesman, scientist, artist– some person of note. Often, however, these “finds” turn out to be red herrings. Early in my research, I thought I had stumbled on to a line of descent from one of the passengers on the Mayflower. How exciting! Except I had followed the wrong line. Two men of the same name in the same town had been born just two years apart. I had found the “right” name in a book about the Mayflower descendants, but it wasn’t actually the “right” one. A similar thing happened with the name of a signer of the Declaration of Independence. I even had a cousin who insisted that this signer was our direct ancestor. But it turned out to be incorrect. We WERE related to the signer, but not descended from him. It turns out he was a great-granduncle of our ancestor.

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Human genealogy can be a rewarding pursuit, or a frustrating one. But our spiritual genealogy can be crystal clear, and is full of exciting news! Our Father is the King of Kings! We don’t have to wonder who He is or whether we will be accepted and listed as a family member. His grace extends to everyone who believes on Him– and it comes with the fullness of being His Children for all eternity.

My dad

When I pray to My Father, that is not just a polite or wishful phrase. God IS my father– just like my human father, only eternal and omnipotent! I have inherited various traits from both my fathers–creativity, wonder, curiosity, a sense of purpose and responsibility, love for others and for the world around me, love of music and nature, and a love of puns(!)–and I am an heir to all the riches of my Heavenly Father’s mercy and grace. I am a descendant of all the heroes of the Faith– not physically through human birth, but by spiritual re-birth– a daughter of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. All that God promised to them, He shares with me. Not because I deserve them, or could ever earn them; because He has made it so.

Whatever your genealogy today–whether you know it, or take pride in it, or despair of it–you can live in the awe of being a beloved and privileged child of the King! And He wants to chat with you today!

Who’s Your Daddy?

When I was growing up, I knew three important things about my father:
I knew he loved me–and the rest of our family–faithfully and truly.
I knew he loved God–He was a man of faith, prayer, integrity, and obedience to the Word.
I knew he would do anything to protect and provide for our family.

But I also knew that my Daddy wasn’t perfect. He was not the strongest man in the neighborhood; or the fastest, or richest, or most respected. He wasn’t the tallest, or most athletic. He wasn’t a leader in local politics or a chamber group or fraternal organization. He didn’t have a string of degrees, or a fleet of fancy cars. He didn’t even have a lot of hair, or perfect teeth. But he had a gentle laugh, a deep wisdom, and a hug that made me feel safe and precious. He had a enormous heart– one that was easily touched, but firmly committed. He was humble and kind; he was loyal and brave and joyful.

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I was blessed to have such a Dad. I know people whose earthly fathers were distant, disapproving, absent, or even abusive. Earthly dads, even one like mine, are still human. They make mistakes and bad choices; they carry baggage from their own childhoods; they carry fears and failures; they fall short of our expectations, and their own hopes and dreams.

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God is a different kind of Father. He is eternally sovereign; the King of Kings, and the Creator of the Universe. There is no comparing Him with anyone else’s father– because He is the Ruler and Father of all! Yet, He wants a close loving relationship with each one of us– with me! With you! He is not just committed to doing His best to provide and protect some of us– He is fully capable of providing ALL our needs and protecting us against ALL enemies, including sin and death!

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Someone once used the analogy of President John F. Kennedy. As President, JFK was arguably the most powerful man in the world– the leader of the most powerful nation on earth. At his command, soldiers, sailors, pilots, and even nuclear missiles, could be deployed. The stroke of his pen could sign bills into law, grant pardons, and appoint powerful positions. To enter the Oval Office and have an audience with the President was an honor reserved for rulers and generals and authorities– and his children.

There is a picture of JFK, Jr. as a small boy, peeking out of the Resolute Desk, as his father sits behind the desk conducting the business of the nation. The son had complete access to his father’s presence– access to the most powerful man on earth–his Daddy. He may not have fully understood what his father was doing, or even how important his father was– but he knew that he could spend time with his Dad.

Of course, President Kennedy was not God. He was fallible, and terribly mortal, as the nation learned to its grief. But the idea that God is distant and uncaring, or even vindictive and petty, is belied by the many Psalms and hymns and prayers throughout the ages. And the idea that God is just another “pal”, or “the man upstairs”–someone who loves us, but has no real power to command our obedience or rescue us from our enemies–is also belied by the many miracles and examples of His power in nature and in history. And unlike the exclusive nature of the relationship between JFK and his biological children, God invites ANYONE who calls on Him through His Son to be adopted as a son/daughter with the same intimate privilege of total access. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201:11-13&version=HCSB (John 1:12)

So when I pray today, I’m not praying to my “Daddy” in any earthly sense. I am praying to the King of Kings, who also invites me to call him, “Abba”– “Dad.”

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