We cry, "Abba, Father"

This morning, I was looking for something that had been stuffed in a drawer somewhere. I found a poem I had written several years ago as part of an assignment for a Bible study I was leading. I thought I would share it with you today. Keep in mind that I am not a poet, but hopefully some of the content will encourage you in your walk with Christ. 

As you read this poem, please keep in mind that we do cry "Abba, Father" to God. "Abba" means "Daddy." 

Romans 8:15 HCSB For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry out, "Abba, Father!"

Galatians 4:6 And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba, Father!"

THE LORD IS MY DADDY

The Lord is my Daddy.

He disciplines me when against Him I rebel

In ways only His great love can compel.

He teaches me the things I must know for success.

The emptiness of my spirit only He can bless.

He meets my physical needs far beyond what I can imagine.

He knows my desires before they even begin.

He always loves me and meets my emotional needs better than anyone can.

He guides me with knowledge that does not come from man.

He places me in situations where I have nowhere to turn but to Him,

The hope of survival without God is dim.

He places me in situations where I have no one to turn to but God.

He shows me the grace of His heart and the strength of His rod.

Sometimes he places me where I can see His glories, 

Then I can only fall at His feet on my knees.

Sometimes He places me where I can reflect His glory to others,

Then through me He their heart stirs.

Sometimes He calls on me to push the limits of my strength.

I can't lift the weight when I've done my heart's best.

With all my great effort I can't span the length,

So I know that only He can accomplish the task.

Sometimes He just lets me sit and in Him find rest

And, then He gives me whatever I ask.

Everyday He meets me at His breakfast table.

He feeds me sweet morsels of His food.

He wants my soul to grow strong and my footing be found stable.

He teaches me His graces, for His love is never rude.

He gives me the bread of Life.

Without His nourishment I can't stand in this strife.

He also makes me eat my vegetables that served for my purity, 

and the meat of His Word needed for my maturity.

He lets me drink the pure water of Life so that I never thirst again.

He sometimes gives me bitter medicine,

He doesn't want my soul to be sick from my sin.

The agony of confession is healing, 

The taste of His Presence my sin revealing.

He lets me work in His fields, to plant and to water.

But then again, that's my responsibility as His daughter.

Sometimes I get to help with the harvest too,

even though that's not really what He's equipped me to do.

He teaches me of the dangers of sin (sometimes I don't like this part)

He knows all the needs, weaknesses, desires, and deep depravity of my heart.

He tells me of battles with principalities and powers,

How His children must face the devil's schemes and his scours.

He bought my armor by His great sacrifice.

No matter how fierce the battle, my daddy's protection will always suffice.

He also gives me the sharp sword of his Word.

He speaks to me in language of judgment and love,

A message of mercy and grace that longs to be heard.

He arms me for battle on earth that's won from above.

Even though I'm still such a helpless little girl,

My Daddy gives all I need in the world.

Some things I understand about His great gifts, and some things I don't.

He promises my needs, but I want my want.

His greatest gift, of course, is forgiveness of my sin.

From my sins He forgives me again and again.

Then he gives me the gift of His Spiritual riches.

Oh, that He alone were the whole of my wishes.

When it comes to things that really do matter,

My earthly needs come way down on the ladder.

Yet He meets these needs too in a way far beyond

How any earthly father could ever respond.

One day I'll inherit His riches in Heaven.

I'll be through with my Pharisaic way with its leaven.

I'll gaze on His Face in absolute worship.

The sweet drink of His Presence I'll continually sip.

I'll have no need but the whole of Him.

I'll cast at His feet with great joy every gem.

My heart and my voice will burst forth with praise.

I'll see Him then clearly without earth's sinful haze.

I'll sit with my Daddy, Heaven's great King of Kings,

Rid forever of life's pain and sin's hateful strings.

Even now when I think of Heaven's great bliss,

To speak of anything less seems quite amiss.

I long for the day when Jesus comes back.

As joint heirs with Him, what gift can I lack?

Oh, the peace and contentment, and great expectation

Of my Daddy's glory's sweet revelation.