FALSE NARRATIVES

Not everyone believes that God is trustworthy. One afternoon I received a phone call from a young man who sounded as if he could not breathe. At first I thought he had just witnessed or been involved in a tragic accident. I was not well acquainted with him; he had heard me speak at a conference a few months before and found my teaching to be contrary to his own beliefs (our narratives collided). He called because he could not start his car. There was nothing wrong with the car; he was the problem.

“Dr. Smith, I need to know if what you said about God is true.”

“What, specifically, are you referring to?”

“You said that God is entirely good and loving and trustworthy and out for our good. I wrote down every word you said. Are you sure I can trust God?”

“Yes. I am certain. Why do you ask?”

“I haven’t been able to drive my car for the past few days.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m afraid that I might have some bad or evil or lustful thought in my head, and in the next instant I might die in a car crash. I’m sure that God will send me straight to hell because I won’t have time to repent.”

After we talked for a while, I probed to find out what kinds of stories he had heard about God while growing up. He told me that from the time he was a young boy, he heard his pastor—a man who represented God and spoke on God’s behalf—begging people, week after week, to stop sinning before it was too late. And if they did sin, they had better be sure to repent before it was too late. God hates sin so much that he would send a person—even a baptized believer—into everlasting punishment for committing a single sin. This narrative of the nature of God that had filled the young man’s mind from an early age was ruining his life.

I invited him to tell his story1. The god of his narrative was not worthy of trust. To trust someone is to believe that he or she has your best interests in mind, that the person will protect you from harm and is reliable. This was not true of the god the young man had been exposed to. Instead of inspiring confidence and courage, his god made him afraid to drive his car. In the process of relating this narrative, he realized that the narrative he had accepted was not necessarily the truth about God.

JESUS’ CORE NARRATIVES

I encouraged this young man to compare his narrative of God with the God Jesus knows. Jesus said, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Luke 10:22). Jesus revealed an enormous amount of information about his heavenly Father through a single word: Abba.2

God as Abba. In the garden of Gethsemane, during his final hours before the crucifixion, Jesus addressed God using a unique title: Abba. This is key because Jesus’ use of this title reveals something important about the nature of the God he knew. Abba is best translated “Dear Father.”3 It is a term of intimacy, but it also contains a sense of obedience. The fact that Jesus addressed God with the word Abba tells us that, to him, God was not distant or far removed, but was intimately involved in his life. It does not in itself tell us that God is good (neither dear nor father necessarily means good), but as New Testament scholar C. F. D. Moule notes, “The intimate word4 conveys not a casual sort of familiarity but the deepest, most trustful reverence.”

Jesus uses this title in his address to God while facing the most difficult hour of his life. He prays, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want” (Mark 14:36). Jesus is facing torture and death. In the Gospel of Luke we are told that he was in so much anguish his sweat became like drops of blood (Luke 22:44). Yet he prays, “not what I want, but what you want.” How can he speak to God in this way at such a difficult moment? The only answer I can see is that he trusts his Father.

God is a good and loving Father, Jesus is telling us, and he is so good that we can obey him no matter what. But some people may ask, Why did Jesus doubt at all? He was God, after all! True, he was God, but he was also fully human. Incarnation (becoming human) implies limitation. Because he was fully human, Jesus experienced everything we do, which includes fear and doubt. But notice: even in the midst of doubt, in the moment of his deepest suffering, Jesus trusted in his heavenly Father.

God as Father. Jesus not only addressed God as Abba but also as Father. This has raised questions for some people: Does this mean that God is male? And what about people who have a bad, abusive or absent earthly father? What if they have a hard time addressing God as Father? And how can God be a father to Jesus? Did Jesus also have a mother?

At the end of a day of teaching on prayer, I closed the meeting with a prayer that began, “Dear heavenly Father . . .” A woman came up to me afterward, full of tears, and said, “I loved all that you taught us today about prayer, but when you started your prayer by calling God ‘Father’ you lost me. I had a terrible father, and I cannot think of God as my Father.” While I felt badly for this woman, not using the word Father is not the solution. The problem is that we begin with our understanding of what father means and then project that onto God.

That is not how it ought to work. When Jesus describes God as his Father, we have to let him define what fatherhood means. Karl Barth is helpful here: “It is . . . not that there is first of all human fatherhood and then a so-called divine fatherhood, but just the reverse; true and proper fatherhood resides in God5and from this fatherhood what we know as fatherhood among us men is derived.”

What does Barth mean? The Trinity existed before the world was created. Long before God made humankind “in his image, . . . male and female,” God existed as Father, Son and Spirit. The relationship between Jesus and God has been defined—by Jesus—as that of Father and Son. Their relationship existed before any human male had offspring. God as Father and Jesus as Son existed before any human father and son (or daughter) existed.

Therefore, fatherhood is first defined by God and Jesus, not by Adam and his children. This has tremendous implications—and a great deal of healing—for us. Many people, like the woman I mentioned previously, have been deeply wounded by their biological fathers, and this makes thinking about God as Father very difficult. The solution is not to abandon the term father but to let Jesus define it. Though Jesus tells a few parables in which there is a father (notably, the parable of the prodigal son), I think it is better to look at how Jesus prayed to his Father to understand what his Father is like.

OUR FATHER

Jesus reveals the nature of the God to whom he prays in the content of his prayer. His disciples asked him to teach them how to pray, presumably because Jesus’ prayer life was vibrant and passionate. Jesus responded to the request by teaching them a prayer that is familiar to many:

He tells us to begin our prayer by addressing God as “Father,” which is what he did, but note this: the fatherhood of God is defined by his prayer. What do we learn from his prayer?

First, we learn that God is near: “Our Father in heaven.” In Jewish cosmology6 heaven did not refer to a place that is far away; heaven referred to the surrounding atmosphere, the very air they breathed. (Remember at Jesus’ baptism when “heaven” was opened? It was not far away!) In short, God is present.

Second, we learn that God is holy: “hallowed be your name.” Holiness has to do with purity. Jesus is teaching us that there is nothing bad about God. God can neither sin nor participate in evil. In one word, God is pure.

Third, we also learn that God is the King who rules heaven: “Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Kings have power over others, and God is “the King of kings.” In short, God is powerful.

So far we are not told anything that would lead us to believe that God is looking out for our good. People have believed in many gods who are in their midst, who are holy and powerful yet not necessarily caring. It is in the next few petitions that we discover the compassionate nature of the God of Jesus.

Fourth, we learn that God is one who cares for us: “Give us . . . our daily bread.” We have a God who makes rain and sunshine and a great bounty of food for all of his creatures—even the birds of the air. Thus we learn that God provides.

Fifth, God is one who forgives our trespasses. As Richard Foster notes, “At the heart of God7 is the desire to forgive and to give.” God loves to forgive, even more than we long to be forgiven. In a word, our Father pardons.

Sixth, we learn from the Lord’s Prayer that God rescues us from trials and evils—“do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one.” God is present and powerful because he longs to protect us. Though we will suffer problems, accidents or trials, God gets the last word. Nothing can happen to us that God cannot redeem.

Jesus’ Father is nearby, holy, powerful, caring, forgiving and our protector. These attributes provide strong images of who God is and what fatherhood means. And we now have a way to define the Father’s goodness. We also have a way to measure what true parenthood ought to be. A good parent, be it a father or mother, ought to possess these six characteristics.

As a father, I try hard, but often fail, to reflect each of those six characteristics. I am near to my children, but sometimes I am distant, preferring to read the newspaper than play with them. And my work sometimes takes me far away for weeks at a time. I also try hard to be good and pure, but I fail miserably at times, snapping at them for minor infractions and being petty and selfish. I try to be strong for my kids, but sometimes I am scared and confused, just as they are. I do a decent job of providing for them, but sometimes I provide too much and spoil them. I forgive them, but I catch myself bringing up their past mistakes. And I try to protect them, but I am woefully aware that I cannot protect them from all enemies that lurk about. My children, my wife and most of my friends would rate me as a decent father. Every Father’s Day both of my children write me cards and say, “You are the best dad ever.” But I am aware of my deficiencies and pray that my children do not suffer because of them.

My point here is that God’s fatherhood must define what human fatherhood ought to look like, and not the reverse. The “How to Be a Good Dad” booklet I keep on my bedside table has some nice tips (“Play with your kids” and “Listen to them”), but I would do a lot better drawing near to my heavenly Father and allowing him to shape my heart into his image. The way God is Father to me teaches me how to be a good father to my children.

The woman who could not pray to God as Father had a horrific childhood, marked by an abusive and distant father. When she projects her idea of a father onto God, she sees someone she could never love or trust. Telling her to just “get over it because Jesus called God Father and so must you” would be cruel. The better solution is to encourage her to let Jesus define what Father means and thereby come to know the God Jesus knows. In doing so, she might find healing.

The God that Jesus reveals is not only a perfect reflection of what fatherhood ought to be but motherhood as well. Sometimes we think of fathers as strong and stern providers, and mothers as gentle and meek supporters. But in Jesus’ description of the Father we see a perfect balance of all of these characteristics. A good mother would be one who is near, whole, strong, giving, forgiving and protecting. In fact, a good person, male or female, single or married, with or without children, possesses these characteristics. Jesus is also a reflection of the Father, so when we see him we see God the Father. In Jesus we see a perfect balance of all of the characteristics of goodness. Jesus is indeed gentle, but he is also strong when needed.

FINDING OUR TRUE FATHER

I met a pastor from England whose own story beautifully illustrates what it means to trust God as our Father. I asked Carl how he came to be a Christian. He said that when he was growing up he seldom went to church. He was very close with his dad, though. When he was fourteen, his father died in a tragic accident at work, which completely shattered Carl’s life. To numb his pain, he started getting into a lot of fights at school and soon was abusing alcohol. But nothing seemed to work.

When Carl was seventeen a friend invited him to what Carl thought was a party, complete with binge drinking, so he agreed. It was actually a “Christian house party,” which is common in England and is more like a retreat. People go to a big home and hang out for a few days of conversation, worship and recreation. When he found out, it was too late to turn back. After the first two days he still felt bitter toward God. But during a time of worship on the final day, Sunday morning, he heard a distinct voice that said, “I am your Father. Come to me.” Carl said he immediately began to sob, and for the first time since his father died his heart began to heal.

All of us have to face pain and difficulty, sometimes even tragedy. As we come to know and draw close to the God Jesus knows, we find a new kind of strength to deal with our struggles. If we do not know God as our Abba Father, then we will never have the courage to face our problems. But as we come to know the good and beautiful God that Jesus knows, our struggles take on a whole new meaning. If God is truly good and is looking out for our good, then we can come to him with complete honesty. We can practice honesty when we pray—baring our soul and confronting those hurts that make us doubt God’s goodness by handing them over to him for healing.

WHAT IS YOUR CUP?

Earlier in this chapter I mentioned how Jesus faced a difficult situation in the garden of Gethsemane. He asked his Abba to remove his “cup” from him. The cup represents the things that are forced on us in life. We all must ask, What is my “cup”? What aspect of your life makes it difficult for you to trust God? Were you hurt by a divorce? Have you suffered loss? Are you unable to find a life partner and struggling with the prospect of lifelong singleness? Have you experienced the death of a loved one? The death of a dream? The loss of a business? The loss of some physical capacity?

A “cup” is anything that we struggle with accepting as our lot in life. And our cup is usually the thing that makes it difficult to believe God is good. Being told by our doctors that our daughter would be born with terminal birth defects was the first of many cups for me. Like Jesus, I faced something that conflicted with own desires. I wanted a healthy daughter. Would I be able to say, “Abba, Father” when I prayed?

Some years later I read Thomas Smail’s interpretation of what Jesus was going through in the garden of Gethsemane, and how he was able to trust God in the midst of his pain. It helped me understand something important about trusting God, and it answered a question people asked of me: “Jim, how can you still trust God after what you went through?” For years I did not know how to answer this question, but now I do. Smail explains:

He states it well: our relationship to the Father is a “trusting response to known love.” Jesus knew he was loved by his Father and was therefore able to trust him through the pain. The reason Jesus could trust God in his darkest hour is because he had lived closely with his good and beautiful Father for all eternity. I now see how love that has been proved can be trusted even when things don’t make sense. So when I encounter a world full of tsunamis and child molesters, airplane crashes and methadone-addicted moms, I don’t try to force myself to say all is well. Rather, I say, “Jesus trusted his Abba, and I will also trust in the God I know to be good.”

JOINING OUR NARRATIVE WITH GOD’S NARRATIVE

The day that our daughter died came unexpectedly. She had not responded well to surgery, and her body began shutting down. Madeline had done this before but always managed to recover. Still, I came quickly to the hospital from a worship service, and fortunately I was accompanied by my friend Father Paul Hodge, who is a priest in the Orthodox Church in America. As Madeline lay dying, Father Paul prayed with my wife and me. From his prayer book he chose a prayer with ancient roots and deep theological teaching. The following is the exact prayer he prayed:

Months and even years later both Meghan and I remember this prayer vividly. It was a healing moment for us, and it prepared us for our daughter’s passing.

Why? The prayer took our story, our own personal narratives (a mother, a father and a sick child), and put it in the context of a larger story, a metanarrative10, which is the story that God is writing. It gave words to our anguish as well as to our hopes. The prayer is honest: we cannot see God’s “divine hand,” and we want to see that there is purpose to it all. It is only when our suffering seems meaningless that our spirits are finally broken. But the prayer goes on. It states that we still believe even in our unbelief. It placed our suffering in the proper setting: God’s “own saving plan, established before the creation of the world.” God is good, and God is still in control, and God’s kingdom is never in trouble.

When we join our story to God’s, the story in which our good and beautiful God gets the last word, then everything begins to make sense. The pain is still real, but it becomes bearable. We can then, in time, begin to move on. And we can begin to see beyond the suffering and look toward the widespread mercy that surrounds us.

FOCUSING ON BLESSINGS, NOT ONLY ON CUPS

Thomas Smail said Jesus was able to trust God because he found God to be “bountiful in his provision.” Jesus was keenly aware of the goodness of God because God had been with him every day, blessing him and all that he did. That is why he continued to trust God even in the final, awful moments. In order to withstand discouraging circumstances, we need to develop the clear sense that God is out for our good. We can do this by increasingly becoming aware of the blessings that attend our every moment.

George Buttrick (1892-1980) was the pastor of the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City from 1927 until 1954. He was a powerful preacher, teacher and writer. His book Prayer is considered one of the best books on prayer ever written. One day I came across a passage in that book that forever changed my way of looking at the world. In it Buttrick tells the story of a man who used a unique illustration to help people see the goodness of God.

Buttrick is clear: we must “deliberately” call to mind the blessings that are all around us. If we had the eyes to see all of them, the pens and paper in the whole world could not write them down. He is not advocating “positive thinking”; he is telling us a deep truth about the universe we live in.

I once watched a child open her presents at a birthday party that all of her friends and their parents attended. She especially wanted a certain gift that she did not get. One by one she opened each package, and the child who gave it watched, smiling with anticipation, only to watch her snub her nose and push the package aside. It was painfully embarrassing to all of us, especially to the birthday girl’s parents. It was a startling example of ingratitude. She was given gift after gift, and all she could think about was the one gift she wanted. I later learned that the gift she wanted was neither precious nor valuable, but was inferior to many of the gifts she received.

As I drove home I thought about how awful that experience was, and how spoiled and ungrateful that little girl was. Then the Spirit whispered, “Are you so different?” I thought about how often I focus on something I want God to do for me, and neglect the ten thousand things—often better things—he has already done. I fuss about my “cups,” little and large (not having enough money to do this or that, a problem at work, a strain in a relationship), and never once stop and thank God that I have eyes to see. If I lost my sight and had a million dollars, I would gladly pay it to get my eyesight back. My eyes are worth a million dollars. So is my heart. And my ears. And my wife. And my children. If I were wise, I would spend time each day thanking God for the “vast treasure” he has given me. I could start, but I could never stop.

Our troubles are real. But they are small compared to God’s “widespread mercy,” as Buttrick said. The more we are able to see just how many blessings we have been given—given freely and undeserved—the more we will be able to see that God is out for our good. And when that happens, our trust level increases.

My son got on a scary amusement-park ride with me that he should have been frightened of, but instead he smiled the entire time. Why? Because of who was on the ride with him. Throughout his entire life I have taken care of him. I have fed him, clothed him, bathed him, prayed with him, taken care of him when he was sick and provided everything he ever needed. Jacob trusted me without hesitation.

You and I are in a similar situation. The life we are living is at times scary but is also a great deal of fun. The key is to remember who is riding with us. There is not a single situation you and I will face that we must face alone. God is with us. God is out for our good. Even in the most painful of circumstances God is able to redeem it, for “we know that all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28) for those who trust in him. The least we can do is enjoy the ride.