Our Father Who Art in Heaven

I’m writing this on April 23, St. George’s Day, which also happens to be the day my father, George, died. I felt when he died that some of the light and love had gone out of the universe. I’ve been sorrowing over losing him today, even though if he were still alive, he’d be 102 and not that happy about it. Perhaps my heart is softer this year because I’ve been listening to Morning Prayer from Canterbury Cathedral since Easter, and it always ends with “Our Father,” the prayer our Lord taught us (Matthew 6).

I know my local congregation has worked to avoid giving God a particular gender, so we’ve avoided “father”-language. We avoid calling God “Father” because too many fathers have acted like they were God or like their authority, however they use it, is approved by God.

But I realized, after several weeks of saying “Our Father, who art in heaven” that my congregation’s commitment also incorporates a loss as well. One of the amazing things Jesus taught us in this prayer was that we have an intimate family relationship with God Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth.

This changes everything for people whose main access to God is through priests or pastors. This involves God personally in our lives as a parent is inextricably involved in a child’s life.

St. Paul in Ephesians 3 says, “I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ from whom the whole family on heaven and earth is named…that he would grant you to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” He emphasizes inclusiveness and love and being filled up with God, rooting it in God’s fatherhood. We are all family because we have the same father.

The story of the prodigal son paints a father who sets his child free to explore the world and who welcomes his child home from failure with a party. This is the kind of father God is. (Luke 15)

Dad was a good person and a loving father. Because I projected him onto my
understanding of God, I trusted that I could explore ideas and ask questions without fear. Dad always liked a good discussion and seemed curious about a lot of things and willing to entertain odd ideas. At the same time, he was flawed. Some of those flaws hurt me and made it hard for me to trust God’s love for me. I thought I could embarrass God by my behavior, I thought God would send me away if I was too much trouble, and I thought God would not be with me when I was most needy.

George MacDonald, nineteenth-century Scottish writer and preacher, encouraged his readers to believe that God was better than they could imagine—to imagine the best father ever and then believe that God was better than that. When I pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” that’s who I am praying to: The God who is Father to all, with none of my dad’s flaws and with all his good qualities and more, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.