There are some voices you
never forget. As I think back on raising
my children, it seems like yesterday. I
can still hear those little voices calling from the backyard: “Daddy! Daddy!
Look at me! Look at me!”
Each of my children seemed to
have a new skill they wanted to demonstrate.
Somersaults across the lawn, attempts to stand on their heads, and all
sorts of other accomplishments that, in their eyes, were worthy of their
daddy’s full attention. And, of course,
I gave it to them.
I would watch, applaud their
efforts, and respond with those familiar words: “Great job!”
If you have children, you know
exactly what I mean. There is something
special about being called by your child—not because they need something
important, necessarily, but simply because they want you to see them.
I knew their voices. I knew the sound, texture, and pitch of each
one. I could recognize their voices
immediately, even when I couldn’t see them.
I knew when they were excited. I
knew when they were frightened. I knew
when they were hurt. I knew them. And that thought takes me somewhere much
deeper. God knows our voice.
I’m reminded of something I
did as a little boy—something I probably should have thought through a little
more carefully.
My mom had sent away for a
plastic Superman cape. Back in those
days, you could save a few cereal box tops, add a small amount of money, send
them away, and eventually your prize would arrive in the mail.
When that Superman cape
finally arrived, I was thrilled. I
opened the package, tied the cape around my neck, and apparently decided that
the laws of gravity did not apply to Superman.
I went on a little adventure
behind my dad’s back. To this day, I’m
not quite sure how I managed to somehow get on top of the roof of our
house. I was convinced that I was about
to “leap tall buildings in a single bound” and become “faster than a speeding
bullet.”
I didn’t fly. Instead, I hit the ground with a thud. It was quite a jolt at the end of my descent,
to say the least. No broken bones—thank
God.
You’ve probably heard the old
saying: It’s not the fall that gets you; it’s the sudden stop. I certainly wouldn’t recommend testing
that theory.
But there is one part of that
childhood adventure I remember clearly.
My dad heard me cry for help. He
came running. He found me shaken but,
thankfully, not seriously injured. He
lovingly picked me up and made sure I was okay.
I don’t remember exactly what
he said to me that day, but I have a feeling the experience itself taught me a
lesson I wouldn’t soon forget.
Looking back, I realize
something. My dad knew my voice. He knew that cry. And he came.
Isn’t that a beautiful picture of our Heavenly Father?
We have a Father who knows us
intimately. He knows the things we say
and the things we cannot put into words.
He knows our joys, our fears, our failures, our victories, and the
places in our lives where we are still trying to figure things out.
He knows us completely. And He knows our voice. Sometimes we cry out because we are
hurting. Sometimes we cry out because we
are afraid. Sometimes we cry out because
we have made a mess of things. And, if
we’re honest, sometimes we find ourselves crying out to God because we did
something we knew we probably shouldn’t have done in the first place.
We ventured out “behind our
Father’s back,” so to speak. We thought
we knew better. We took the leap. And then came the sudden stop. But here is the beautiful part: When we fall,
our Father comes running. He does not
stand at a distance with His arms crossed, waiting to tell us how foolish we
were.
He comes near, picks us up,
dusts us off, tends to our wounds, and reminds us that falling does not mean
the story is over. That brings me to
another childhood memory: Humpty Dumpty.
We all know the nursery rhyme:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And
then comes the sad conclusion: All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.
But there is something the
nursery rhyme leaves out. God can put
broken things back together. When we
fall, when our lives become scattered, when our plans don’t work out, when our
failures leave us feeling like broken pieces on the ground, God is not
intimidated by the mess.
He is not looking at us
thinking, “Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do with that.” He is our Father. And brokenness does not frighten Him. Failure does not make Him run away. Our mistakes do not make Him stop loving
us. In fact, some of the moments when we
feel the most broken may become the moments when we discover just how close He
really is.
The Bible gives us a beautiful
name for God: Abba, Father. Abba is an
intimate expression—something like “Daddy” or “Papa.” It speaks of closeness, affection, trust, and
relationship.
Think about that for a
moment. The God who created the heavens
and the earth invites us to call Him Father.
Not a distant God nor merely a powerful God, but our Father. The One we can run to and cry out to. The One who hears us.
Just as my children once
called out, “Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!” we can call out to our Heavenly
Father. And He knows exactly who is
calling because He knows our voice. He
knew us before we ever knew Him.
God knows the sound of our
praise, but He also knows the sound of our pain. He knows when our voice is full of confidence
and when it trembles with fear. He knows
when we are celebrating and when all we can manage is a whisper: “Daddy, help me.” And He hears.
Maybe you have taken a leap
you wish you had never taken, or you are standing in the middle of the
consequences of a decision you made.
Perhaps you feel like Humpty
Dumpty—broken into pieces, wondering how you could ever be put back together
again. Or maybe you are simply
tired. Whatever place you find yourself
in today, remember this: Your Father knows your voice.
You don’t have to find the
perfect words or clean yourself up before you come to Him. You need not pretend that everything is okay. Call out.
Cry out. Whisper if that is all
you can do. “Abba, Father.” He hears you.
And just as my dad came
running when he heard the cry of his little boy lying on the ground, our
Heavenly Father is never indifferent to the cries of His children. He comes near, picks us up, and reminds us
who we are. He then dusts us off and
encourages us to keep going.
Sometimes, after He has put
the broken pieces back together, He simply looks at us and says: “Great job.” Our Father knows us, loves us, and above all—He
knows our voice.
Written by,
Papa Boyd
