You Call Me Yours
words and music by Sean Taylor
You spoke the world
Into space and time
You breathed Your life
Into this dust of mine
Still You let me call You Father (Father)
You let me call You Daddy (Abba)
And though You are the Adonai
You look at me
And You call me Yours
You hung in the sun and stars
Into the sky
You have created me
And all mankind
Still You let me call You Father (Father)
You let me call You Daddy (Abba)
And though You are the Adonai
You look at me
And You call me Yours
You are holy
The Mighty One
King of Creation
Still You let me call You Father (Father)
You let me call You Daddy (Abba)
And though You are the Adonai
You look at me
And You call me Yours
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Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed
upon us, that we should be called the sons of God:
therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew
him not. Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it
doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know
that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him;
for we shall see him as he is.
1 John 3:1-2 (KJV)
Chances
are you know what it's like to be someone's child or someone's parent
(or possibly both). Down here on earth being a child means different
things to different people because we all grew up in different ways.
Sadly even the idea of "father" today can bring a flood
of negative emotions. Earthly fathers just don't live up to all
the word "father" really means or requires. With abuse, neglect or
distraction, some parents (especially us fathers) fail to deliver on
all or even any of the promises we know we ought to. Some of us even
make the idea something nasty, something to be forgotten in the past
beneath layers of prescriptions and years of therapy.
But
there's one Father who has never failed, one Father who continues to
sacrifice and give and love even when it costs him everything (that's
not just his life on the cross, but his very nature becoming tainted by
the stain of sin, literally becoming the worst thing any of us could
ever be in order that we might live with him forever), one Father who
never fails to live up to the intrinsic, redeeming, enduring meaning of
the word.
He's the father who kills the fatted calf to
celebrate the returning prodigal. He's the same father who reminds his
faithful son that nothing has changed between then either. He's the
father who stops at nothing to do what's best for his children or to
waste a moment on the frivolity of simply lavishing his blessings and
love upon them.
But not us. We instead chase the dream of
selfishness and always end up feeding the pigs, wanting their slop.
We're the ones who get bent out of shape when others get our credit, or
worse get the party we think we deserve. And we know it.
We
can't help but know it. Each time was see the Father for who he truly
is, we can't help but see our filthiness and darkness revealed in the
presence of his light.
But -- and this is a simply
breathtaking and amazing part -- every time we creep to the shadows to
hide that filthiness and darkness and shame, that same Father takes our
hand and shows us off as his dearly beloved sons and daughters.
The Greek work abba
didn't just mean father in the sense of a man who has helped procreate.
It went deeper. It went all the way to the baby's first cooing laugh of
"daddy."
And God lets us call him that. Because he is that.
And if that doesn't knock you to the floor with awe, I don't know what will.
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