Come Boldly

My father wasn’t a believer. It was my mother who faithfully took my brothers and me to Sunday School and church, who encouraged us to memorize scripture, who registered us for summer Bible camps and youth activities.

My dad was a stern man with anger issues. Although we were never abused, he raised his voice frequently. And it always scared me. I somehow knew he loved his family in his own way, but I didn’t have confidence approaching him.

Hebrews 4:16 encourages us to: “… come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”

I didn’t go confidently into my dad’s presence. I didn’t feel as if I could freely say just anything to him. I never knew what mood he’d be in. I didn’t know if he’d yell at me for interrupting, or if he’d set down the newspaper and look at me.

With my heavenly Father, the story is different.

It’s a story about confidence. It’s about knowing for certain that God wants me to come near. He delights when I approach, and when I freely share all that’s on my heart. He desires my presence and the unhurried time sitting at his feet.

Interestingly, the word for ‘boldly’—parresia in the Greek—can be translated, “candid and unreserved speech.” We have the privilege, the unearned gift, to approach our Creator and speak anything that’s on our hearts, including our hurts and frustrations, including any questions we may have: Why, God? I don’t understand.

I learned early on—probably in my teen years—that I shouldn’t let my experience with my earthly father paint the picture for how I perceived my heavenly Father.

Dramatic change

Much later in life, my dad made his heart right with God. And it changed him dramatically. He was gentle and kind. I never heard him raise his voice again. He was tender with his grandkids and teased them with a twinkle in his eye. Every time we gathered as a family, I leaned in close for a warm hug, and his smile was one of delight in seeing me, his daughter.

This gift of a changed earthly father was grace upon grace. It’s something only God could have orchestrated through our prayers.

Which speaks so wildly to me about God’s goodness. The grace of God that never stops working in our lives—transforming us to look more like him—is one of the things I appreciate so very much about my heavenly Father.

Remember this: We are never interrupting God. He will never yell at us. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t read the newspaper, but if he did, he would always set it down when we approached. He would smile at us, and gently beckon with his arm: “Come, daughter. Come, son. You are loved and welcomed here.”