Meeting God as Father

Two nights ago, my husband launched out of bed after a loud crash sounded somewhere on the upper floor of our home. We had both been sleeping deeply, but his fatherly instincts kicked in and he immediately sought to protect his family. This reminded me not only about how much I love my husband, but about one of the many ways God has used him in my life.

Even as a young adult, I was among the many people who struggle to understand God as Father.

This world is a broken place, and our earthly fathers are certainly among the broken.

While I am entirely convinced today that my fathers (both biological and step-) deeply love and care about me, this was not always the case. One didn’t see me consistently for years, and the other took on the complex situation of step-parenting while still recovering from deep wounds received in other areas of life.

It wasn’t until my late teen years that I began to understand how difficult both life and parenting were for my fathers.

My fathers had my understanding and respect by the time I became a young mother myself, but it was my husband God used to help me understand the beauty of God as Father.  

The first revelation came at nighttime.

We were sleeping in our bedroom in North Dakota. With a baby on the way, our toddler Abigail needed to be moved to the other side of the house, to her own bedroom, and into a “big girl” bed. Things had gone fine, so we were sleeping deeply that night.

That is, we were sleeping deeply until something caused us both to jerk upright in bed. We heard strange, muffled crying. And it sounded like our precious Abigail.

We both headed to her bedroom, my husband Aaron in the lead. To our dismay, we still heard the crying, but her bed was empty, and we could not identify the location of the crying.

I suddenly became transfixed by my husband. He was on a mission, totally and completely, furiously, seeking our daughter. We seemed to search everywhere, we rushed from room to room, he got down on his hands and knees, he put his ear to the floor. Then he jumped up again and dashed back into her bedroom.

He reached under the bed and pulled out our tiny Abigail. She was curled up against the wall—and thus the vent—crying, with her muffled sobs piping into the next room.

He wrapped his arms around her completely, holding her close, soothing and praying for her. She achieved peace in his arms. Somehow she had rolled off of her new bed, gotten lost on her way back up, and ended up in a cramped, scary place. But now she was safe. Nothing could feel safer to that little girl than her father’s arms.

I was active in this hunt for our daughter, frantic in my own motherly instincts, yet I knew exactly what God was revealing to me as I watched my husband fulfill his God-given role. “So that’s what it means!” I said to my heavenly Father as the beauty of His role began to sink in. “You love me that much! You pursue me that fervently! You protect me that fiercely! I’m SAFE with you! Thank you!”

Sometime shortly thereafter, just to make sure I got the message, another very clear incident happened.

Aaron was heading to warm up the car while I carried the baby in his carseat down the steps. Abigail was at my side, but slipped and tumbled down the last stone steps, falling toward the gravel. Aaron was yards away, but was there in a moment, almost before she hit the rocks. Again the look on his face was priceless. He was going to save his little girl. He was going to protect her. And when he didn’t get there fast enough to cushion the fall, He made up for it through the comfort he provided.

“Thank You, Lord,” I declared, “not only for Abigail being OK and for this wonderful husband, but for revealing Yourself to me. You don’t want me to fall, but, when I do, You will comfort me. You are my Father and Protector, my Comforter, all wrapped into One.”

We live in a broken world, but God gives us glimpses of His glory. And coming to know Him as Father through my husband has certainly been a transformative glimpse for me.

 Abigail knew she could trust and admire her father at a very young age. For that, I am very thankful.