by Dave Castle
Early one morning while preparing to write this post and reflecting on the relationship between its subject, the Everlasting Father in Isaiah 9, and Jesus’ dialogue in John 14:4-11, a pleasant surprise: an interruption from my oldest daughter waking up especially early. Truthfully, it was a relief to see her, since I always struggle with the kind of circular reasoning found in Jesus’ farewell discourse, and I wanted to ask her a few questions to better understand her experience of me as a father.
My first question: “What do I do best as a father?”
She answered without hesitation, “You read to me, you rub my back, and you talk to me.”
I pushed her to think more deeply, and she responded just as quickly, “Well, you care about me.”
“Great,” I responded, “but what does that do for you? I rub your back to comfort you before bed. What do you get from me ‘caring about’ you?”
She answered, “Well, knowing you ‘care about’ me is how I know you’ll do the other things.” She paused briefly, “And you doing the other things is how I know you care about me.”
Two run-ins with circular reasoning before breakfast were enough, but this exchange turned out to be profound as I processed it later in light of John 14. Though unprepared for questioning so early in the morning, my daughter’s quick response was unsurprising. Reading, back rubbing, and talking form the sacraments of our nightly, bedtime ritual. They would have been her final experience of me before any given morning, including this one. However, she knows—perhaps better than I do—how often the pace of my reading quickens when my mind is focused on a bill that needs to be paid. She knows how the rhythm of my back rubs changes when I’m distracted, and how my answers to her last questions of the day become hurried when I’m facing a deadline at work.
In John 14, we find Jesus also administering ritual sacraments at Passover, but by contrast to me on my worst nights, he is gentle and patient with his disciples despite it being the eve of his hour when he will face the ultimate deadline and pay the greatest debt at the cost of his life and access to the Everlasting Father. We know from Luke’s gospel that Jesus’ stress this night was so great that he would sweat blood only a few hours later. Yet, there is a paternal quality we see in Jesus, too: his responses to Thomas’s and Phillip’s questions are patient and unfailingly consistent with his love and care for them.
There may not be anything comforting that we can even imagine at this often difficult time of year. Our individual suffering can be exasperated when we’re reminded of what we may have lost, or never had, while others around us are joyous. “Everything will work out in the end” is a platitude often worthy of eyerolling. But in Isaiah 9 we see a progression to previous promises as the prophet attributes the quality of an Everlasting Father to the dawning light in verse two.
This isn’t the first time God offers light as a reminder of his promises.
When he promises Noah to never again destroy the earth he points to the rainbow – a beautiful fractal produced when light is cast on the last of the water lingering in the air, water that had almost caused complete destruction of the earth. The sign has deeper and profound significance, but in isolation it can look like God is simply saying, “Hey, look on the Brightside!” Ha!
In the wilderness, God goes before the Israelites as a pillar of fire by night. His form is an unmistakable reminder of his promise to Moses and later to Joshua that he will never leave them, nor forsake them. Rarely is God ever so explicitly present in uncertain times, but the pillar of fire may also be a good case for why not. Although his presence is perfect protection, it also dangerous and entirely unapproachable.
What is so encouraging about a dawning light is that it meets us on our plane. Dawn is one of the few times we can look at the sun directly with our naked eye. It doesn’t provide us with comfort in the dark of night; it deals with the night completely by ending it. When the light of Christ dawned on humanity, he did so in the same manor, coming to us at eye level. Instead of blazing ahead and above us in the wilderness He walked with us through the wilderness as he once walked with Adam in the Garden. He was not immune to our stresses; he willingly bore them. So, when we feel we can’t bear our own burdens, we need not despair. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
He lived fully into our experience so that one day we might live fully into his—to dwell forever, even with those who have let us down and those we have let down, in the fullness of his inheritance as sons and daughters of our Everlasting Father.
For this Advent season, sign up for our digital devotional, “He Shall Be Called.” This devotional corresponds to our sermon series, which will reflect on the names of the promised Messiah, Jesus Christ. The Friday before each week of Advent, you will receive an email with a devotional, which will include a written reflection, questions, and activities designed to help prepare hearts for the hope of Christmas.