Questions for the Father
Jesus called you Father
even more than he called you Lord God Almighty.
Daddy, he whispered in those early morning conversations,
surrounded by silence, waiting for the dawn.
He told us stories about you—
a sorrowful father missing his lost son, waiting, waiting,
a woman losing her money,
a shepherd losing a lamb.
He told us how you searched for the lost
and how you turned happy, so happy,
at the return of what you held dear.
Even with these stories, it seems presumptuous
to attribute human emotions
to the Creator of the universe,
the Lord of Hosts, the Name above all names.
Sad? Angry? Happy? Aren’t you above all that?
So I approach you tentatively, on tip-toe
with my wonderings.
Were you with him in the garden that night?
When your son begged for mercy,
for release from the coming horror,
did it cost you to tell him No?
Even knowing the end of that dark story
(a story you wrote), did his tears move you?
Did you feel the dread with him?
Did a shudder run through the universe
when your son was betrayed, denied justice,
degraded, abused, and crucified?
Did you actually abandon him?
What did that cost you?
I’m a clumsy, bumbling pseudo-therapist
asking you, And how did that make you feel?
Forgive my presumption.
But I really do wonder,
my Father.
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