Abba
Read Mark 14:32-42.
It may not have been his very first word, but it would have been among his first. Looking up into the weathered face of a tired carpenter, the baby would have uttered those sounds every father longs to hear: "Abba." Daddy. Dada. No matter how tired Joseph was that evening, that word coming from the lips of his infant stepson would have set his heart to singing. A smile would have broken over his tired face and new energy would have filled him so that he could play with the baby in hopes of hearing that word uttered again.
When the baby grew and began walking and running, there would have been those times when he fell and scraped his knee, or got into an argument or even a fight with the neighbor kid, and the word came out differently. Through tears and hurt, those same (now older) lips would have uttered, "Abba." And the father's heart that beat within Joseph would have responded with comfort, warmth and love, doing whatever was necessary to soothe the pain.
Then there was that day when they went to Jerusalem, that time when Jesus stayed behind even when the family left town. Mary and Joseph hurried back to the city, frantically searching for their son. When they finally found him, he didn't seem to have missed them. "Why have you put us through this, son?" And, with a quizzical look on his face, he turned to his parents and said, "Didn't you know I would be about my Abba's business?" Except this time, maybe for the first time, "Abba" didn't mean "Joseph." Joseph was reminded that he was not Jesus' father. And yet, he was his dad, so when they returned to Nazareth, Jesus continued to be obedient to his parents, Luke says.
However, most likely there were still moments when he was a teenager when he might have uttered that word in frustration and anger a time or two. "Clean up your room, Jesus." "Abba!" "Do your chores, Jesus." "Abba." But then there would have been those moments of deep connection, even in the midst of teenage angst. "Want to help me with a building project, Jesus?" "Abba, yes!"
But then there was the day when the lips of his earthly Abba would respond no longer. We don't know when, but at some point before Jesus' ministry began, Joseph died. The hands that had held him would hold him no more. The lips that had kissed his forehead would do so no longer. Mary wept, Jesus held her, and with a broken voice filled with the grief that only a graveside can bring, he said that word through tears: "Abba."
After three years of ministry, Jesus faces his own death. He knows it. He knows why it will happen. He knows the joy it will bring to the world. But being fully human means he knows the pain he will go through, the excruciating suffering that is ahead of him. Knowing the joy does not make it any easier to endure such horrible treatment. And with a son's anguished voice, he cries out to the one who sent him here, the one who has never left him: "Abba!" Just as he needed Joseph's comfort in his childhood years, now he so desperately needs the comfort and strength he has gained from all eternity past. Father, Son and Holy Spirit have never known separation; that is about to change. "Abba, Father!" The voice that once tenderly whispered that word to Joseph now screams it to his heavenly Father. "Let this cup pass!"
But it will not pass. Even though the Father loves the Son, he cannot let the cup pass. for to do so would be to condemn humanity to a dark eternity. And so the Father, painfully, denies the cry of the Son, and even turns his back on him ("forsakes him") when the sin of the world rests on Jesus' shoulders.
And yet...
Can you imagine the relief, the joy Jesus felt when, at the end, he is able to whisper, "It is finished"? Can you imagine what it was like for him to once again be in the presence of the Father and the Spirit? Can you imagine how much at that moment he longed to once again whisper the word?
Abba.
What a beautiful, profound, powerful word. No wonder Jesus encouraged us to use it when we talk to our heavenly Father as well. Abba, Father, you are my all. Everything is possible for you—even turning the worst thing into the best thing.
Abba. Father. Papa. Daddy.
Thanks be to...Abba!
It may not have been his very first word, but it would have been among his first. Looking up into the weathered face of a tired carpenter, the baby would have uttered those sounds every father longs to hear: "Abba." Daddy. Dada. No matter how tired Joseph was that evening, that word coming from the lips of his infant stepson would have set his heart to singing. A smile would have broken over his tired face and new energy would have filled him so that he could play with the baby in hopes of hearing that word uttered again.
When the baby grew and began walking and running, there would have been those times when he fell and scraped his knee, or got into an argument or even a fight with the neighbor kid, and the word came out differently. Through tears and hurt, those same (now older) lips would have uttered, "Abba." And the father's heart that beat within Joseph would have responded with comfort, warmth and love, doing whatever was necessary to soothe the pain.
Then there was that day when they went to Jerusalem, that time when Jesus stayed behind even when the family left town. Mary and Joseph hurried back to the city, frantically searching for their son. When they finally found him, he didn't seem to have missed them. "Why have you put us through this, son?" And, with a quizzical look on his face, he turned to his parents and said, "Didn't you know I would be about my Abba's business?" Except this time, maybe for the first time, "Abba" didn't mean "Joseph." Joseph was reminded that he was not Jesus' father. And yet, he was his dad, so when they returned to Nazareth, Jesus continued to be obedient to his parents, Luke says.
However, most likely there were still moments when he was a teenager when he might have uttered that word in frustration and anger a time or two. "Clean up your room, Jesus." "Abba!" "Do your chores, Jesus." "Abba." But then there would have been those moments of deep connection, even in the midst of teenage angst. "Want to help me with a building project, Jesus?" "Abba, yes!"
But then there was the day when the lips of his earthly Abba would respond no longer. We don't know when, but at some point before Jesus' ministry began, Joseph died. The hands that had held him would hold him no more. The lips that had kissed his forehead would do so no longer. Mary wept, Jesus held her, and with a broken voice filled with the grief that only a graveside can bring, he said that word through tears: "Abba."
After three years of ministry, Jesus faces his own death. He knows it. He knows why it will happen. He knows the joy it will bring to the world. But being fully human means he knows the pain he will go through, the excruciating suffering that is ahead of him. Knowing the joy does not make it any easier to endure such horrible treatment. And with a son's anguished voice, he cries out to the one who sent him here, the one who has never left him: "Abba!" Just as he needed Joseph's comfort in his childhood years, now he so desperately needs the comfort and strength he has gained from all eternity past. Father, Son and Holy Spirit have never known separation; that is about to change. "Abba, Father!" The voice that once tenderly whispered that word to Joseph now screams it to his heavenly Father. "Let this cup pass!"
But it will not pass. Even though the Father loves the Son, he cannot let the cup pass. for to do so would be to condemn humanity to a dark eternity. And so the Father, painfully, denies the cry of the Son, and even turns his back on him ("forsakes him") when the sin of the world rests on Jesus' shoulders.
And yet...
Can you imagine the relief, the joy Jesus felt when, at the end, he is able to whisper, "It is finished"? Can you imagine what it was like for him to once again be in the presence of the Father and the Spirit? Can you imagine how much at that moment he longed to once again whisper the word?
Abba.
What a beautiful, profound, powerful word. No wonder Jesus encouraged us to use it when we talk to our heavenly Father as well. Abba, Father, you are my all. Everything is possible for you—even turning the worst thing into the best thing.
Abba. Father. Papa. Daddy.
Thanks be to...Abba!
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