I Have The Same Father As This Baby … gift from Maryland, US

I am enjoying sharing gifts that I have received in this Christmastide. This comes from Stephen Price, an old friend of mine. Here’s a brief bio  — Practicing psychotherapist, biblical theologian and Interim Pastor at Heritage Baptist Church, Annapolis, MD and you may want to check out his blog “Uncommon Baptist Pastor” on Blogspot here

imageI have the same Father as this Baby;
it boggles my mind, really, to take that seriously.

I have the same Father as this Baby;
does that mean He took as much joy, placed as much hope, in what my birth might mean?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
then why do I think that our Father would put that Baby in a world of Herods, poverty, and hatred, but spare me from ever having to deal with them?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
and our Father told Him that everyone around Him were His brothers and sisters, why do I keep thinking that they’re somehow not mine?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
He knew temptation and frustration and betrayal, why do I keep acting like my Father is supposed to rescue me from these?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
our Father was always present to Him, why do I act like our Father is so far away from me? Like He doesn’t want to talk to me, or wrap me in His love?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
and He died. So will I. That’s just the way it is. One day, I will die.

I have the same Father as this Baby;
our Father raised Him up, did not let death conquer Him, kicked Death’s ass thru Him. Do I really think our Father will abandon me to death, or Death, or some great nothingness?

I have the same Father as this Baby;
so why do I spend so much time acting like I don’t have a Daddy?

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4 Responses to I Have The Same Father As This Baby … gift from Maryland, US

  1. Adele Crawford says:

    You know me; I’m all about inclusive language and expansive language for God. I only refer to God as Father in the Lord’s Prayer. And at baptism, because not everyone in hearing is as progressive as the rest of us. But this…this piece in my inbox this morning got me. Got TO me. It cracked open the hard shell made from thin layers of myfathersdead every time those words or similar left my lips in the last seven years, taking a piece of my heart with them each time. It pried open the rusty, creaky door of hollow metal one uses on a safe…or a dungeon. And lo, in the ray of light streaming from the doorway, moving through dancing dust, sat a girl, knees to her chest, longing for her father. And a kind gentleman–not quite the same, but he would do–crept in beside her and quietly said, “I’m here.”

    Thank you.

    • Maren says:

      Thank you, Adele, for these amazing and vulnerable words which I will be sure Stephen reads. May the tenderness of this New Year’s time surround you with comfort for the child and the woman.

    • Stephen Price says:

      And thank you Adele for what your words meant to me on what was, frankly, a very difficult day. Like Maren, I pray that you will find peace in this new year.

      • Adele Crawford says:

        Last week (I think) Nadia Bolz-Weber posted this on Facebook: If we tell our stories with heart and honesty we feel less alone. Case in point all around. Blessings to you both.

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