I Called Him Father

Until a year ago today, there was someone who loved me dearly and was always available for me: I called him Father!

He was my birth father. When I’m among men I’d proudly called him “Father”. He taught me the way of life, in that manner, I could best learned from him. His advises are always subtle.

Even when I called him from afar; where I now lived, I can still feel the warmth in his voice. It was that warmth voice, which brings comfort to since my childhood days. It brings a feeling a security in me. Even though we didn’t talk often, that special feeling of having a father was irreplaceable.

Attending church-organized conferences with my father, when I started to read and write, I would never forget those experiences. The discussions and analysis we had, of what we’d heard after such events, are something I have missed dearly.

My father’s Concord Reference Bible always came in handy. It was my first access of such books in understanding the gospel. In the countryside where learned preachers are in scarcity, it was more helpful. However, there are times when I still preferred the Holy Spirit filled but raw sermons till today.

There are times though, when I felt, my father’s wallet seems a bit far away. His Heavenly Father had provided for us; my father also had a father. And we need to ask few times, in other words pray, when we needed financial help. Nevertheless, food was always on the table in time, although our wallet might seem far.

As a young teenage boy, I wanted to get unleash from my father’s authority. But he took hold of me as much as he could yet I slipped away several times. Several rules are set for me to keep intact with him. Obedience, the best way to show our love, was never easy. Yet my father kept holding me back, even when I failed, because I am his son.

Above all, I am proud to have him as my father.

Abba Father:

Among the many Bible verses my father reads in our family prayer time, Galatians 4:1-7 was repeated over and over so that we might not miss out in future.

Abba Father
From my heart, I called out “Abba, Father”

My father always emphasized on our “son-ship” or being an “heir”; the privilege of calling God, as our very own father:

“When the set time had fully come, God sent His son Jesus Christ. In short, Jesus Christ paid the price, on the Cross of Calvary, for our slavery; being us a slave under our sin. And those who received this adoption to son-ship become God’s child.”

Since we become God’s child, we are made an heir to His kingdom. In the Holy Spirit we called out to Him as “Abba Father”. The word Abba, in Aramaic, was a word used by children for their father. It is something like a “Daddy” or “Papa” today.

This word “Abba” richly expressed our relationship with God. That is why we considered God as our Father as well as our God. In other words, as much as He is our God, He allowed us to call Him Father so that we may have very close, a Father-son relationship with Him.

So, in the blood of Christ, even a worthless person was accepted as an heir. The worthless becomes worthy in His eyes. With full confidence, respect, and ownership we can now called Him Father.

My Father at Present:

More than I’d imagined I missed my father. There are many things I wanted to consult. Just simple queries he’d reply me aptly. By the way, being my father we followed each other. We kept updated of our situations whether at home or happenings around us.

Now with my father being gone, there is loneliness which cropped up every now and then. In my everyday life, there are times I wanted to ring him. Still, I have my Heavenly Father. But I cannot see Him. I cannot touch Him. I cannot hear Him speak like normal human beings.

I connected with my Heavenly Father through His words found in the Holy Bible, and in the form of prayers. It is a privilege to call Him FATHER whenever I talk to Him. However, there are certain answers I wanted, which He did not find it necessary for me at this moment.

There are times He seems so far away. Yet I know He’s with me always. It depends on how I give Him space inside my heart. When I called on Him, He’s nigh. He lets me know His abiding presence.

My Father for Eternity:

I have a Father who never ceases to exist. Heaven and earth may fade but He’ll be there. He is the Alpha and Omega; the Beginning and the End.

It’s a blessed assurance to have Him in my life. The assurance that I will no more perish but to be with Him, in eternity; bought to have that privilege through the blood of Christ.

Jesus Christ had declared, “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” (John 14:2-3)

My God who was not ashamed of me calling Him as my Father. And His Grace is sufficient!

Letters from My Father

My father wrote letters to me; more often than any girl would. It was written with love. Neatly written in his very own hand but with severe curves, which could take time to read.

Letters from my father
Actual photos of Letters from My Father

Today, I was submerged in a plethora of emotions, thinking back at those good old times. My father would use papers from the workbooks from my siblings; a one-liner and neatly summed up writing contained.

I put them in between my books and re-read them from time to time. At least, he’d enquire what he’d written to me, the next time we meet. So, at least, I’d read again before vacation time begun.

It was his handiwork so I have this feeling of attachments whenever I read his letters. In that way, the sudden long distance between us was easier to bear. It was his way of making us feel special.

Going back few years, we thought we’d be providing together for the family in anyways we could. I was blessed to find work in our locality. So we thought we’d be together and we’re happy lots.

But then I set out for University education in faraway land; more than 1500 miles from home, with bad connectivity. The dilapidated transport system, leave aside the very high airfare, could take us some four days, approximate, to reach back home.

Brief contents of the letters:

Occasionally, that envelope reaches me. The letters could be long while some are short and straight to the point. The long ones I called them sermons, and the short one my father’s wishes for me.

My father had, always, included quotations from the Holy Bible. His sermon summaries or base Bible verses are included. He wanted me to write back my thoughts base on the given verses.

In some of the paragraphs I was updated of our family financial status, family members and their performances in whatever field they’d undertaken. The neighborhood news, entwined with humor, was always a treat. I was always delighted to get hold of his letters.

I felt sorry because his letters could not comprehend me: in his love and guidance in the light of the Lord. I did things I’m not supposed to, sometimes, in some ways. But he accepted me through and through.

My father always mentioned he misses me a lot. He trusts me to stand alone and be true to our belief. To keep his teachings should be held more important. At first, when I failed I looked at his letters in regretting what I do.

That much impactful was the value of his words. His expectations and non-expectations were stated. He reminded me, time and again, not to worry so much about future.

There would times when my replies would be negative and unpleasant. My meager introduction in studying Political Science, as we’re busy with those trends of ‘Critical Analysis and Compare and Contrast’, might get reflected in some way.

My feel good factor:

My father doesn’t want to let me feel bad. He knows I was alone. He’d never write hurtful words. When I need correction he’d chose those extra sweet words. In that faraway land, he simply reminds e of his principles of home.

He reiterated his prayer for my well-being and even for my finding a good partner in life. Every morning and night they, not only him, they pray for us, he informed. Fear not! God must be with you, he said.

Your mother has always been beautiful, lovely, and gentle he wrote with a slight hue of humor. The quiet, kind, hardworking, and loveable character of my mother was once again appreciated. And I love this part.

When he told stories of character from the Bible, I would say just give me the text I have my Bible with me, jokingly, so that he might save time and energy.

Father wanted me to feel good whenever I read from him. And that’s the beauty of life without internet and telephones because let my mind wander to be with them.

About work and lifestyle:

Crop failure or status are a must tell. God has provided us this far so we’ll lived on, he encouraged, when crop didn’t do well. Let me put out one sample here:

You work hard; we’ll do the same, here at home. Let’s see how far we can make it. In the end, we must learn contentment in what we get. Be careful not to turn away from the path you’d followed since your childhood.

Whenever I wrote back I need to get him updated of the city where I stayed, my college lifestyle and the likes. What I had enjoyed about the pave and what not, are a must tell. This practice has enlivened me in many ways.

He always ended with a loving note which got me emotional at times. But I was warned before that it’s not for that purpose.

Living it Out

Some repetitive I was quick to point out, which my father said was because he wanted me to live it out wherever I am. The way it should be with reading the Bible and being living with and living it out.

Sermon outlines and my inputs are requested when Christmas or some special days approach. In this way, I’d rendered my thoughts for him, which also provide a good time for thinking on the Lord’s.

The letters looked worn out now. But they’re still with me: some in my mind and some physically. They are always special to me. I am undecided about putting it out, word to word.

the end of my father's letter
My father signing off his letter

I am thankful for the time he devoted in talking to me. He’d do anything for my well-being. But we too have clash of ideas, at times. My father always signed off his letters with benedictions.

In all these times, I rediscover his advises are always for my betterment. And I was sad I couldn’t follow all of them.

When we meet again I wanted to get more of him and his love. I am glad for his timely letters and his love for me.

That last time where I delivered eulogy at my father’s funeral program I did not shed tears because, deep in my heart, I believe he lived on in his Savior’s arm!