I don’t think that it is any coincidence that the topic of this post happened to land at this point in time for me. Remember my last post about John Piper’s sermon on the evidences of being a child of God? The first evidence in the study text of Romans 8:12-16 is a desire to die to ourselves and our own agenda; it is seeking God’s will instead:
We know that we have the Holy Spirit (without which we cannot be saved, John 14:16-17), because it is He that gives us the power to overcome our own selfish desires and sin.
But the second part of this scripture has especially resonated on my heart this week, for it states, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba, Father!”, The Spirit of himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”
The word Abba is an Aramaic word that would most closely be translated as “Daddy.” Like young children would address their fathers, the child of God is described as someone who has been adopted (by grace through faith in Christ, Ephesians 2:8) as His beloved, His own, his precious child. We are able to cry “Abba Father”, in times of need and find refuge in Him. Though God is mighty and holy, He embraces His child as a close, comforting, and loving parent.
This was made evident this week when we heard the unexpected and heartbreaking news that a friend had just been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer.
It’s news that has shaken me and left many of us with an “Abba Father” cry.
It is the cry and the trust you cling to when “the props” (as Piper said) we would stand on are knocked out from under us.
It is the cry when doubts and fears abound and nothing makes sense but that we know our Abba Father is our one refuge,
And that He will never leave us or forsake us.
And that is what she is doing. Crying out, yes, in questions and bewilderment as any of us would, but also in a stunning trust and confidence in His presence. Only a child of God can do that.
Can anyone relate to a time when words escape and all that’s left is your own “Abba, Father” cry?