Written by Michelle J. Goff, Founder and Director of Iron Rose Sister Ministries
Daily, for about seven years, before, during, and after high school, I faithfully wrote in a prayer journal. I noted which chapters I read from the Old Testament, New Testament, and Proverbs. Since writing is one of the ways in which I process the world, it seemed appropriate that I would spend an allotted time each evening discussing my day with God, my thoughts, my fears, and my questions, in written form.
Most of the time, if I specifically addressed God by name, I would simply say, “Dear God.” I later learned to call on Him as the Great Physician, Comforter, Prince of Peace, Yahweh, Savior, etc. However, during those earlier years of prayer, if I had to pick one primary title that came to mind when I would address God, it was one of Heavenly Father.
“Heavenly” because I saw Him as other-worldly. He was seated up on His throne and would listen to us, inserting an occasional intervention on behalf of a truly worthy request. I would thank Him for His wisdom through the Proverbs and lament the many who did not heed His wisdom.
“Father” was because I emphasized a greater distinction between our Father in Heaven, His Son, Jesus, who came to earth to die on the cross to save us from our sins, and in whose name we pray. Finally, the Holy Spirit was the third title and one to whom I never prayed.
I now thank the Holy Spirit for interpreting my groans (Rom. 8:26) and ask Him to be my Guide, Comforter, and Reminder of Truth (John 14, 16). He is a seal guaranteeing my inheritance!
I have learned to thank Jesus for modeling obedience, for His selfless and sacrificial love, and for choosing what the world would deem unworthy followers to be His initial disciples. He is my Redeemer who ever lives and intercedes for me!
As I continued to address the Father in prayer, the meaning behind that title has evolved. My
relationship and communication with the Father have grown along with my intimacy with Him.
After returning to live in the U.S. after my years in Venezuela, I suffered extreme reverse culture shock. It was not a term that was commonly used at that time, nor was it a phenomenon I was warned about.
Walking through the aisles of the grocery store, I was overwhelmed by the hundreds of choices. I had come from a time and place in which you planned your menu based on whatever you found on the shelf that week, or what you had waited in a long line to obtain.
Navigating new relationships in a culture that felt long-forgotten, I had to explain why I knew nothing of TV shows, movies, commercials, or other “small talk” connection points. I counted down the days to my first visit back to Venezuela and the opportunity to introduce others to the reasons I might’ve been louder or culturally awkward.
A month or two after that return visit to Venezuela, life took another turn and my responsibilities doubled. Still disoriented and uncertain, I clearly remember an opportunity that was granted me to step away for a couple of days. That intentional time of prayer, reflection, Bible reading, and rest was desperately needed.
The most memorable moment from those days was when I pictured myself curled up on God’s lap, crying out my pain to Him. He was a welcoming Father who held my right hand, gently stroking my hair, as He comforted me. I was warmed by His embrace and drawn into a deeper level of trust. He could handle my grief. He could reorient my cross-cultural awkwardness. He could shoulder the weight of my added responsibilities. He would remain faithful and present. Always.
Beautifully, I knew that I could crawl back up into His lap at any time, which I did.
As my Father who loved me deeply, I could go to Him unencumbered by my hesitancy. As my Father who delighted in me, I could bound into His lap to prattle on about my greatest joys. As my Father who called me His daughter, I could hear Him whisper my name as the One who has always known me.
After that first time of picturing myself sitting in God’s lap and sloppily blubbering my heart’s deepest hurts, He truly became my Father.
If you have not been able to communicate with our Father to that level of intimacy, I invite you to start with simply entering His throne room and accepting His invitation to that depth of relationship with Him. It all starts with communication. You don’t have to know what to say. God knows your heart and doesn’t need you to speak a word.
