Our Father: The Beauty and Complexity of Divine Family

Embracing the Metaphor

"Our Father who art in heaven." For many, this is one of the most beautiful metaphors in our scriptures for God. And I would say without hesitation: it is a metaphor worth holding onto. It carries a rich legacy within the Christian tradition. Yet, as beautiful as it is, we must also acknowledge that not everyone hears the word "father" in the same way.

Our relationship with parental language is shaped deeply by our experiences. For some, "father" speaks to safety, nurture, and wisdom. For others, it might evoke pain, absence, or harm. And so, how we speak about God—and how we use metaphors like "father"—must be thoughtful and generous.

The Purpose Behind the Words

Jesus, when praying, chose to address God as Father. But I don't believe the point was to gender God. In fact, insisting on a masculine image of the divine or outright rejecting it because of gender can both miss the intent. The divine, after all, transcends gender. Genesis reminds us that God created humanity—male and female—in God's image. So, the imago Dei isn't bound by gender.

The deeper point, I would argue, lies in the word "our." This isn't about masculinity—it's about intimacy. About shared belonging. About family. Jesus isn’t defining God in terms of gender, but grounding us in a metaphor of relationship and chosen family.

Healing the Metaphor

Still, I understand that for some, even this image of God as parent can be difficult. If your experience of father—or mother—was not what it should have been, then this language might not convey the divine the way Jesus hoped it would. And yet, there is still beauty to be uncovered in the metaphor.

Because this is not God as authoritarian stepfather demanding we call him "dad." This is an invitation to imagine a new kind of family—a chosen one. A family that welcomes us, regardless of how our earthly experiences have shaped us.

Jesus' Choice of Words

In the Greek, the word used is "pater," which likely echoes back to the Aramaic "abba"—a term Jesus would have used. Abba means something akin to "dad"—a familiar, approachable word. But it’s not childish. It's not "daddy." It's warm, relational, and it speaks to connection, not control.

This language doesn’t diminish us or take away our agency. It invites us to step into everything family could be if made holy. It’s not about reverting to children in need of supervision—it’s about stepping into the safety of being fully known and still fully loved.

The Divine Listener

So when I pray, what I am reminded of is the safety I find there. There’s no one to impress, persuade, or dazzle with my eloquence. In that sacred space, I am already fully known—more deeply than even my closest family could know me.

This is the heart of what Jesus meant when he said, "Your Father already knows what you need before you ask." It’s not a reason to stop speaking—it’s a reason to speak more freely. If anything, it tells me that prayer isn’t about information exchange; it’s about relationship.

Think about Jesus’ conversation with the man in John 5. He doesn’t just know what the man needs. He engages, asks questions, listens. That’s not a diminishment of his divinity—that’s the fullness of it. A God who listens, even when already knowing, is showing us what divine love looks like.

The Gift of Self-Expression

Even as a parent myself, I often know what my kids need. But I still want to hear them say it, name it, understand it. Because learning to speak our needs is part of what shapes us. And I think God sees prayer that way too.

Where else in life can we speak without needing to sell ourselves? Where else can we be truly unguarded, unfiltered, unafraid of misunderstanding? That’s what makes prayer so precious. It’s one of the few places where I can be nothing more than what I am—and still be embraced.

Yes, sometimes I still try to sell God on my ideas. I still try to sound wise or worthy. But the more I lean into the metaphor of family—of God as Father, Mother, Parent—the more I realize I don’t need to.

Prayer as Family

Prayer is where I am loved when I’m wrong. Welcomed when I’m ashamed. Comforted when I’m confused. Listened to even when I’m dishonest. Taken seriously when I’m honest. Laughed with when I’m funny. And when I cry? God leans in.

So if the language of "Father" helps you, use it. If it doesn’t, let it go. The point is not the gender. The point is the shared family—the conviction that we are not alone. That we are known, embraced, and called beloved.

That’s the invitation. Our Father who art in heaven. Amen.