A Tale of Two Fathers

It was the worst of times. It was still to be the best of times. The devil abused us, his children, and held us captive to his lies. He blinded our hearts so that we could not see the truth. That accuser, Satan, tortured us with his lies, manipulating and deceiving us into practicing things that weren't right. Having told us the fruit would be good for us and make us like God, he then slandered us for eating it. Greater hatred has no one than this: that the devil laid down our lives for himself.

Satan is a snake. A dragon. He attacks the weaknesses of his prey. Warring against everything and everyone else in creation, the devil has one wish--to see all that is good and light succumb to the darkness. His attacks are ruthless and strategic, manifesting the most fear-inducing hatred and abuse. Unlike a drunk father, Satan is fully aware of what he is doing. He purposefully attacks the insecurities of the heart. Knowing the soft spots and the wounds, the devil jabs. He cuts at the reputations, the relationships, and the personalities. He uses his children for a cheap joke, laughing at them and enslaving them in their minds, hearts, and wills.

Spiritually abused, we became abusers. Bound by sin and condemnation, we lived just like our father, hating and being hated by others. Sinners, haters, and evildoers were born as children of the devil, the apostle John wrote in 1 John 3. Blinded by our sins, we developed assumptions that carry over into our relationship with our new family and our new Father.

Because of our past, we assume that the only way to be loved and to love is through abuse. After all, that's all we knew. To us, attacking others--intellectually, emotionally, and even physically--is okay. To us, discipline for our good seems to be the same as abuse since our first father, out of pure hatred, took every chance that he could get to hurt us. Because of that corrupt relationship, we make assumptions about our new relationship with our new Father. We assume that he treats us just like the devil, that he hates us, and that he attacks our weaknesses and insecurities.

But, God is nothing of what the devil is. He is greater, stronger, and kinder. The Lion of Judah is bigger, louder, more terrifying, and still more tender than that prowling lion, the devil. Instead of attacking us for our insecurities, he guards and defends them. He has justified and forgiven us for our sins to where we can confidently say, "there is no more condemnation." Though Satan stands to accuse us of our filthy garments, our Father has placed new garments, the righteousness of Jesus, on our backs. He is patient, abounding in steadfast love, and merciful. With sovereign grace, the Father was pleased to sacrifice his Son on our behalf so that we could have fellowship with him.

As opposed to the devil, God does not abuse his children. He disciplines those whom he loves, though it may seem unpleasant for a time. Why? Not to destroy, but to bring about the unfading crown, which is righteousness, in those whom he loves. God's love casts out fear--fear about our reputations, our relationships, our personalities, and our insecurities. The Father does not hate us or attack us because of our weaknesses. Rather, he protects them, making known his power in our weakness.

Because of the Father's love towards us, which was manifested in Jesus Christ and made known to us through the Spirit's abiding in us, we can love by laying down our lives and giving ourselves for others. We can love God with our hearts, souls, minds, and strength because he first loved us; and, we can love our neighbors by protecting and serving them. We can know that God disciplines his children out of love. With confidence in Christ, we can say "God is for me, he loves me, and he will guard my weaknesses and insecurities--making known his power in my weakness.

That old devil, however, still yells out to me, mocking me because of my infirmities. Out of reflex, I retract, giving into fear. The scars on my back, formed by the whip of his lies, begin to ache. "You should be ashamed," he taunts, "you are just as filthy as when you were with me; so, you might as well come back." The yearning to run back to my abuser is strong. I start to think that there is no life without him. After all, I have friends who still live in that abusive family. Maybe I could tolerate it just a little bit longer. O wretched man that I am! At that moment, I feel warm and tender hands wrap around my soul and turn me in the other direction. There, I see my Savior, the Lord, smiling in delight over me. Embracing me and kissing my forehead, he reminds me that I am loved beyond compare. All that is his is mine. I can call him my Abba, my Father, who loves me.