God for Us

Discovering the Heart of the Father through the Life of the Son

Abby Ross Hutto

• Publisher: P Publishing
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781629954202
• eBook ISBN: 9781629954219
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

We doubt God's goodness because we misunderstand his intentions. Abby Hutto enhances our view with thirteen stories about Jesus, from John's gospel, that show us who God truly is.

1

A God for the Distant

JOHN 1:1–18

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. . . . No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known. (John 1:14, 18)

Distant’s Distrusting Heart

Distant grew up in a Christian home with faithful Christian parents. She knew and loved Jesus, but there was a tension in Distant’s heart. When she looked out at the world, she saw great harm. She saw sorrow that she couldn’t understand and pain that she couldn’t explain. Her family firmly believed in a powerful and sovereign God who controlled all circumstances. If God was so powerful, Distant wondered, why didn’t he stop this? She knew that God was capable of saving, but sometimes he didn’t seem very willing.

So, at an early age, Distant came to the only conclusion that seemed plausible: If God chooses not to rescue us, it must be our fault. God must be angry with us. His sovereignty became a source of great fear to her rather than comfort, and without necessarily realizing it Distant began working to keep this volatile God happy.

While she was in middle school, two of Distant’s family members became very sick. Distant took a tentative step of faith toward God. She prayed fervently, begging God to restore their health. He chose differently. When both her relatives died, something broke inside her heart. She still believed that God might be good to others, but Distant no longer expected him to be good to her. She wouldn’t outwardly blame God for the pain and sorrow around her, but she no longer trusted him. From now on, she would have to look out for herself.

Like many who fear hardship, Distant wanted to avoid pain at all cost. Her solution was to obey the rules perfectly. As a young adult, she studied God’s Word so as not to miss any rules by accident and make God angry with her. She filled her time with good things. She volunteered, served, led Bible studies, and discipled younger girls. Anyone who observed her would praise the young woman she had become. What no one else saw was the inner turmoil of her soul. Insecurity constantly plagued her thoughts. She frequently compared herself to other Christians around her to grade how she was doing. She rode an emotional roller coaster that was dependent on her performance. She loved Jesus and wanted to please him, but she feared the judgment of the Father.

Distant lived like this for many years. She got married, had children, and even found her calling to vocational ministry. Her love for Jesus grew, but her feelings about the Father remained conflicted. He seemed hot and cold. Loving and angry. Consuming Fire and Abba Father, all at the same time. A hard man.

Distant settled into a “business” relationship with God. She worked for him, but she didn’t know him. She lived in constant fear of being scrutinized and disciplined, as if God were a harsh and overbearing boss. If things were going well, she supposed that God was happy with her. If they were not, she assumed that she had done something wrong and was being punished. She was easily unsettled. Afraid to go to God for help and ashamed to confess her fear to others, Distant drifted farther and farther from the everlasting arms that could keep her secure.

Does this sound familiar? Do you believe that God is angry with you? Have you ever joined Distant on that roller coaster of joy and despair? Do you hold your breath in anticipation of judgment? It’s an exhausting way to live! You can’t enjoy the good gifts in life if you’re waiting for disaster. You can’t hope for the future if you don’t trust the God who holds the future in his hands. And what is life without joy or hope?

If, as we saw in the introduction, our understanding of God’s heart toward us colors everything, then a misunderstanding of it will destroy our equilibrium. If, like Distant, we view God as a hard man, then our lives will lurch to and fro with every changing circumstance. Our world will become marked by anxiety, fear, depression, and despair. Suspicion will create isolation that will drive us from everyone—including God. We need the security that comes from knowing that someone is looking out for us and will stand by us, no matter what. We need someone who scans the horizon to search for us while we are far away. We need someone who cares enough to bring us home.

We need a God for the distant.

The Distant Hearts of the Children of God

When I was growing up, my favorite movies were the Star Wars trilogy (which I now have to distinguish as Episodes IV–VI . . . sheesh). I loved the opening shot: a dark screen with words scrolling into the horizon, accentuated by the first notes of the iconic theme song. That intro covered a ton of backstory in a matter of seconds, and millions of viewers became caught up in the middle of a war between the Empire and the Rebellion.

The gospel of John opens in a similar fashion. John’s powerful prose spans the entirety of history. “In the beginning was the Word,” he writes, and the Word created the world. Then the Word became flesh and lived among us. We’ve jumped into the story at the climax of the action. What is the backstory? What led up to this Word entering into human history?

To understand John’s prologue, we must go back to the opening lines of Genesis: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1). God ushers us into a story in which he reveals himself as he carries out his mission to rescue and save. It is a story in which we turn and run away from God, but also in which his loving heart compels him to come looking for us.

The story opens with the first humans, Adam and Eve, who live in a close and loving relationship with their Creator. But the story quickly turns, as God’s children defy him and reject his rule over them.

As the plot unfolds, God never gives up on his rebellious people. He preserves the human race using Noah’s family and an ark. Through a man called Abraham, he creates a nation that will bless the world. God then rescues that nation from slavery through Moses, a Hebrew slave turned Egyptian prince. He leads his nation of Israel into the land that he promised them and fights their enemies through warriors and judges whose names you may know: Joshua, Deborah, Gideon, Samson, and more. If you grew up in the church, you probably heard their stories as you munched on stale animal crackers in Sunday school.

Why did God’s people constantly need to be rescued? Because they were always running away from home! God’s people felt a tension in their souls. They knew that God was powerful and that they needed him, but they mistrusted him because they misunderstood his character and nature. And so the themes of rebellion and rescue continued through their history—the stories of their faithless kings, their prophets’ warnings, and their exile and slavery. Because God’s people left him to chase after other gods, they ended up in a perpetual cycle of miserable slavery. Every time they were oppressed, they cried out to God to rescue them, and he did.

Throughout these hundreds of years of Old Testament history, God is consistently faithful and true to his promises. His people are not. With every rebellion and rejection, they grow more distant from him. The Old Testament closes with the fulfillment of a prophecy that is spoken through the prophet Amos. From the beginning, God has spoken to his people. Now that will change. Because his people refuse to listen, God sends his silence (see Amos 8:11). Four hundred years of it!

The people despair. It seems that God has finally given up on them. But the silence is not ultimately a rejection but a gift. It allows them to experience the distance that their sin has put between them and God. The silence clears the way for God’s voice to be heard once again—but not through another prophet or king. It is through his own Son.

What happens during those silent years? Only one page separates the books of Malachi and Matthew, but a lot occurs between the Old and New Testaments. Empires rise and fall, and one nation after another rules over Israel. A lot happens in the hearts of God’s people as well. They misjudge him. Much like Distant, they know him to be a hard man, and they fear him. Their fear drives them to look out for themselves.

So, in the silence, they cling tightly to what they do have: the law. They embrace it—not as a way to understand God’s heart and repent of their rebellious ways, but as a way to save themselves. They build rules and systems based on the law to keep order in their lives, but their hearts are far from God. They are God’s official covenant people, but they are not living as his children. Just like Distant, they work for God in a business relationship, but they don’t understand him.

For four hundred years they wait for God to speak. But their hearts are so distant from him that when he does finally speak through his Son, they fail to recognize his voice.

The Word Becomes Flesh

This sets the stage for the gospel of John: God’s silence and the distant hearts of his people. Despite their misunderstanding and their false assumptions, the gospel of John doesn’t start with declarations of punishment or a God who withdraws from his people. It begins with his Word. God speaks to us through a person—his Son. This is the climax of the great story God is telling: the Word becomes flesh and lives among us!

Even while we were distant from God, God sent Jesus to explain himself to us. In an amazing act of love, he came . . . not as the consuming fire of the Old Testament but as a helpless baby boy—an explanation of himself with whom his people could eat, walk, laugh, and cry; an explanation whom they could touch and draw near to. In the incarnation, we see God’s “divine capacities restrained.”¹ Jesus set aside his incredible glory and became like us. He spoke in words that we could understand, narrating the invisible God for us in a familiar setting.

Because of Jesus, we can better understand the character of the invisible Father. Theologian William Barclay explains it this way: “If the word was with God before time began, if God’s word is part of the eternal scheme of things, it means that God was always like Jesus. Sometimes we tend to think of God as stern and avenging; and we tend to think that something Jesus did changed God’s anger into love and altered his attitude to human beings. The New Testament knows nothing of that idea. The whole New Testament tells us . . . that God has always been like Jesus.”²

As we read the Gospels, we find that the “Word made flesh” is surprisingly relatable. Jesus is not at all like the subject of popular religious art—a man staring placidly into the horizon, disconnected from the world around him. His life looks a lot like ours! He had parents who made mistakes and unkind siblings who criticized him. He got hungry. He got tired after a long day. He was tempted. He felt grief and cried real tears. He laughed. If you read the Gospels closely enough, I’m pretty sure you will see that Jesus has a sense of humor. God communicates to us through someone who we can relate to and know—a real person with thoughts, emotions, desires, and a will.

By coming to know Jesus, we come to know the Father as he truly is. In fact, Jesus completely revolutionizes our understanding of the Father! Those who think of God as “one sick dude” would have trouble applying that description to Jesus. Endearing stories reveal how safe he seemed—people wanted to come near to him! All throughout the Gospels, the disenfranchised, the poor, the hurting, the outcasts, and the sick are irresistibly drawn to Jesus. In one incident, parents bring their babies to Jesus so he will lay his hands on them and bless them (see Matt. 19:13–15; Mark 10:13–16; Luke 18:15–17). The disciples assume that Jesus is too important to be bothered by these little ones, but Jesus corrects his disciples, scoops the children into his arms, and blesses them. This does not sound like a frightening man!

It’s not that Jesus is the nicest member of the Trinity. I love how J. I. Packer puts it: “The idea that the kind Son changed the mind of His unkind Father by offering Himself in place of sinful man is no part of the gospel message.”³ Our creeds, confessions, and catechisms remind us that the three persons of the Trinity make up one God. They are of one substance, each like the other. Though we cannot fully comprehend this mystery, we can be certain of one thing: Jesus is the image of the invisible God (see Col. 1:15). Jesus is God narrated for us, telling us what the Father is like.

The Intentions of the Father on Display

John wrote his gospel for a specific purpose: “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” ( John 20:31). It is vital for us to see that Jesus is the Savior of the world, but it is just as important for us to see that the Savior is someone’s child—the Father’s beloved Son.

I remember the first time that this concept moved from being a fact in my head to being a truth in my heart. At a candlelight service one Christmas Eve, as the congregation sang “Silent Night,” I looked over at my children. As I watched the candlelight flicker across their chubby little faces, my heart ached. How deeply I love these two children! I wondered what that night had been like for the heavenly Father, as he watched his only Son struggle to be born into a world that would reject him, hurt him, and ultimately hang him on a cross to die. If a sword was to pierce the soul of Mary his mother (see Luke 2:35), in her limited understanding, how much more did the Father, who knew all things, ache as he watched...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Introduction
• 1. A God for the Distant
• 2. A God for the Skeptics
• 3. A God for the Desperate
• 4. A God for the Wanderers
• 5. A God for the Ashamed
• 6. A God for the Afflicted
• 7. A God for the Lost
• 8. A God for the Grieving
• 9. A God for the Captives
• 10. A God for the Betrayed
• 11. A God for the Wounded
• 12. A God for the Hopeless
• 13. A God for the Failures
• Conclusion: A God for Us, Not against Us
• Final Exercise
• Acknowledgments
• Bibliography