The reckless love of our heavenly Father

By Steve Beard

MTV’s series The Real World describes itself as "the story of seven strangers picked to live in a house and have their lives taped to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start being real." These GenXers all come from different backgrounds and worldviews. Without scripts, their most intimate and anguished moments are eventually beamed into living rooms around the world.

In one recent episode, a young woman told two of her male housemates about writing her first letter to a father she had never known because of divorce. She was eight years old at the time. She wrote: "I just want you to know about me. I like hopscotch, biology, and dissecting things. You don’t have to respond, but I just wanted you to know about your daughter."

The letter came back unopened. Scrawled across the envelope were the words: "Return to sender—Send no more letters!"

She told her two friends, "Ever since then, I have sought acceptance from men through boyfriends. I hate it! I am a feminist and I still have this need to have acceptance from men."

My heart broke as I watched and listened. That young woman will carry the hurt of her father’s rejection around for her entire life. But at the same time, I sensed the Lord say to me, I am not like that.

A common perception of God the Father is one of a God who is seething mad, ready to smote us with lightning bolts. I used to buy into that caricature myself—at least subconsciously. In the last several years my whole understanding of God the Father has changed. It began by hearing evangelist Randy Clark preach a sermon about the extravagant love displayed by the father in the prodigal son story found in Luke 15.

Although I had heard that text preached many times, never did I think about it from the perspective of the father’s generous heart toward both his wayward, sinful son and his hard-working, sanctimonious son. The incredible grace and mercy of God became so real.

According to the dictionary, "prodigal" means "recklessly extravagant." The "prodigal father" may be a better title for the parable, for while the son was reckless with his wealth, the father was extravagant in giving his love and forgiveness.

The younger son realized there was no way to find peace or joy outside his father’s house. All of the attractions in the world had grown stale. With a crushed spirit and a repentant heart, he reasoned that he could at least live in the servant quarters of his father’s house and survive. Because of his sin, he believed that he was "no longer worthy" to be called the father’s son.

The biblical text is incredible: "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him" (vs. 20).

Can you see the father scanning the horizon, searching for the silhouette of his wayward child? As I studied the verse I pictured our heavenly Father eagerly running toward us, calling for a party. What a magnificent revelation of his love.

My wife’s favorite Scripture is Zephaniah 3:17: "The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Have you ever thought of your heavenly Father singing over you? Or delighting in you?

For some this is difficult to grasp or is even rejected because of the abuse or neglect of their earthly fathers. Who can forget the heartwrenching scene from Forrest Gump when Jenny is heard praying, "Dear God, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here." Jenny prayed because her father was sexually abusing her. Although he was arrested, she continued her struggle to find healing for the traumatic wound left by her father’s sin.

Later in the movie when both characters are older, Jenny and Forrest walk past her childhood home. Overcome with emotion, Jenny throws rocks at the house, and then her shoes, and then finally crumbles to the ground sobbing as the painful memories are provoked. As Forrest reflects on the scene, he says, "Sometimes I guess there just aren’t enough rocks."

For victims of fatherly neglect or abuse, that kind of pain is excruciating.

In sensitive ministry, we must be able to help make the differentiation between our heavenly Father who is holy, loving, and just, and our earthly father who is fallen and sinful but has been given the capacity to love. Our heavenly Father is able to bestow "a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair" (Isaiah 61:3). For many Christians who have survived abusive fathers, it is therapeutic through healing prayer to be able to call upon God the Father.

Unlike the father who rejected his daughter’s letter, God the Father really does want to know if we like hopscotch and biology. The Lord is anxious to be intimate with us and heal our brokenness and forgive our sin. There is a wonderful Scripture passage that reads: "I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down, declares the Sovereign Lord. I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak…" (Ezekiel 34:15-16). This is the heart of the Father’s love. And it is ours for the asking.

Steve Beard is the editor of Good News magazine and the founder of Thunderstruck.org.