Monday morning I was struck with the fact that we get to call Daddy.  Think about that: the God who created the universe, the God who holds our eternity, the God who defeated sin and loved us in spite of our rebellion and gives us power over the enemy and parted the Red Sea and fed the 5,000 and causes nations to rise and fall…

THAT God wants me to call him “Daddy.”

It’s unbelievable.  It’s amazing.  It’s audacious.

No other religion promotes that sort of intimacy.  No other belief system allows that type of relationship.  No other god lets us dare approach with that type of boldness.

But my God wants me to call him “Daddy.”

I can’t get over that insight.  I’ve always known it to be true, but now I’m meditating on what it means.  If God is my Daddy, it means that he knows what is best for me.  He is for me, not against me.  He wants me to look like him, talk like him, think like him.  He wants me to emulate and model and follow him, because he’s crazy about me.

My God…my Daddy…wants to spend time with me.

When is the last time you thought of God as “Daddy?”  When did you last feel that closeness that he calls us to?  Have you ever stopped to think of the sheer wonder that he’s given us as he gives us permission…no…he invites us into that sort of relationship?

It’s audacious.  And I love it.  I rest in it.  I revel in it.