Teach us to pray, part 4: Our Father, Aba-na

And He said to them, "When you pray, say: ' Father, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. 'Give us each day our daily bread. 'And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation.'" (Luke 11:2-4 NASB)

In Matthew's record of the Model Prayer, Jesus begins with the words "Our Father". He is not just my personal Father, nor simply the Father of the people who attend the same local church I attend or even the same denomination. "Our Father" indicates that He is the Father of all those who put their trust in Him, and we are all His children, brothers and sisters together as children of God. 

The rampages of hate conducted by ISIS toward believers in recent months have made me even more aware of the brotherhood of believers. When I saw that ISIS had kidnapped 90 Christians in Syria, I wept. They are my family. They are your family, and they are suffering unspeakable torment and pain because of their faith in Our Father. 

As I considered their kidnapping, I wondered about what language they speak in Syria (Arabic), how "Our Father" translates in Arabic, and how Syrian Christians refer to Our Father, the One who is Father of us all. The transliteration to English is aba-na. Isn't that a beautiful name? Since that time, I've used the Arabic name for God when I pray as a reminder that I share the same Father as my brothers and sisters from Syria who have been kidnapped by ISIS.  

Aba-na

Praying with their language, even if only in this one word, has made me much more cognizant of my relationship with my family in chains, much more concerned, more brokenhearted. When I read of the travesty of Boko Haram in Nigeria, it breaks my heart because they are my people. They are family, and much loved. These Syrian Christians are my people, my family, and I long to do something. 

Sometimes I forget that I can do something. In fact, you and I can do something that just might rock the world of those vicious ISIS soldiers. We can pray, and a perfect place to begin is with Aba-na. Our Father. Use the words our Syrian family uses as a reminder of our connection to them.

As we pray today, let's spend more time praying for our family in chains around the world than we do for ourselves. Pray for those being tortured by ISIS, those being brutalized by Boko Haram, and by all the other persecutors of the world. Pray for protection from their persecutors, quick deliverance, and that their faith would stay strong. Pray that their suffering would be limited and that their example of faithfulness would bring conviction and salvation to their captors. Pray for those who persecute as well as those who are persecuted. 

Those Syrian Christians are our family, and Aba-na is the Father of us all, so let's be faithful  to do the one thing that is likely to make the most difference, and pray without ceasing. 

... The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much. James 5:16 NASB

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ps - That's a picture of my human daddy. As much as my earthly father loved me, Our Heavenly Father loves us even more. He listens we pray, so be sure to take our concerns our family in chains to Him.

Teach Us to Pray: The Father of All

And He said to them, "When you pray, say: 'Father, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. 'Give us each day our daily bread. 'And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation.'" (Luke 11:2-4 NASB)

A friend and I were speaking earlier this week about the "Model Prayer" passage found in Matthew, specifically about the "our father" and the post concerning aba-na, which is Arabic for "our Father". As if it were not mind-boggling enough that Almighty God loves me and is my heavenly Father, I find that He loves all His children just as much as He loves me. 

My friend summed the problem up nicely. "I want to horde Him, keep Him all to myself," she said. I'm afraid my problem is worse than that. My problem is pride. My heavenly Father is so unspeakably kind to me that it is unimaginable that He treats everyone in such a kind and generous manner. As it turns out, I'm not as special and unique as I might hope after all! 

Can it be that he treats the people who were kidnapped from Syria as intimately, as tenderly as He treats me? Is He as gentle to them in their suffering as He is in mine? Yes! He is aba-na, our Father, not simply my Father, and all His children are my brothers and sisters. They are my family. 

It is more than I can comprehend, but if I could just grasp the edge of this truth, perhaps I would be more concerned about my family in chains because of their love for our Father. If I embraced the truth of the family of God (of which I am just one little member), perhaps I would spend every waking moment in prayer for my family in captivity, suffering and persecuted simply because they are part of the same family as I. 

Using the words of my brothers and sisters has helped me remember them as I pray. Today, I'm using another language to speak "our Father".  Baba wethu is Zulu for "our Father" and is the language of more than 10 million people, mostly in South Africa, but understood by approximately 50% of the people in Africa. 

Today, friends, let us embrace our brothers and sisters around the world as we pray, and remember those who are in chains. Though faceless to us, they are, nevertheless, family and our Father, Baba wethu, loves them every bit as much as He loves me and you.  

Teach us to pray, part 5: The Great Adoption

And He said to them, "When you pray, say: ' Father, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. 'Give us each day our daily bread. 'And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation.'" (Luke 11:2-4 NASB)

Father

The word translated here as "Father" is pater and comes from a root word that means "a nourisher, protector, upholder". This is a terribly difficult concept for me. I don't have any problem understanding God as the Father of Jesus. After all, He was perfect, sinless. What boggles my mind is that God willingly chooses to be Father to me. As anyone who knows me is well aware, I am neither sinless nor perfect. None of us are. 

Ponder that a moment. If we choose a relationship with God through Jesus Christ, His Son, He adopts us as His children, sons and daughters of God. It's absolutely incredible! Equally incredible is that, as Scripture tell us, Jesus is "not ashamed to call us brothers and sisters". (Hebrews 2:11, Mark 3:33-35) and that we are "joint heirs" with Jesus, the Son of God. (Romans 8:17) 

Jesus is not ashamed to be my brother. 

I could ponder that for a lifetime and never get over it. Just to be sure we are on the same page here, I was so sinful that there could never be enough sacrifice on my own to make up for all the sin I had piled up and continued to pile up, and so were we all. God created us for a relationship with him and I messed it up terribly, we messed it up terribly. Something had to be done, so Jesus did it. He wasn't in love with the idea, but He saw it as the only way to save mankind, so Jesus laid down His life to pay for my sin, to pay for your sin. 

He left Heaven, which was a major sacrifice in itself, and came to earth. Consider leaving your beautiful and comfortable home, and all the people you love, to live in the most desolate place on this earth for thirty-three years, knowing that the very people you've come to help will hate you, spit on you, and kill you, then realize that His sacrifice was greater than that. 

On top of leaving Heaven to come to earth, Jesus took my Sin on Himself and died in my place, in your place. That is such a spiritually incredible event that I cannot begin to understand how such a propitiation happened, how He stood it, why He would do it, but He did. I know that's true because of the change His sacrifice has made in my life.

After all of the sacrifice to save my eternal life, made necessary because of my sin, I have the unmitigated gall to continue to sin and ask for more forgiveness. I have not taken sin seriously enough, and few of us do. When I look at the price my sin cost Jesus, it makes me sick. What is even more mortifying is that I continue to sin. I dare to have a haughty heart, a condescending nature, selfishness, greed. You name it. If it's sin, it threatens to entice me, and I'm not the only one. We are all easily entangled by sin. What is heartbreaking is that entanglement is not as horrifying as it should be. If I'm not entangled by some sins (the ones of others, for example) I'm not so worried about the ones that do entangle me, and this should not be. 

I have been given the greatest gift imaginable in this unfathomable adoption by Almighty God, despite my bent for sinning. I have not always understood the magnitude of this gift, but I pray that I will not only get an inkling of understanding, but that I will never get over the wonder of it, and that I will choose to live in accordance to the gift. Oh dear ones, the right to call God Father is something we should treasure, for in that gift He has transformed our lives and changed our eternal destiny.

Selah. Pause and consider.

Today, before we dare to speak His name, let us consider the price that was paid for our adoption, as well as the audacious insult of our ongoing choice to continue in sin. May we treasure the gift of our adoption so much that we choose to live accordingly.