Some years ago I was presented with an opportunity for a bit of understanding of our father’s heart toward us. My son had a school function for which it was customary for young men to invite young women to accompany them. My son set his sights on a young lady who, by all appearances, seemed to be an excellent choice and also who would not at all mind being invited by him. Being the gentlemen he is, he found a moment—and just a moment—when he could privately ask the young lady to the event. She answered him not yes or no but replied “I am not going to that event.” My son was understandably confused, but with my encouragement pursued the matter with the young lady. He phoned her the next day and offered to take her to a different event if she preferred, she replied that she and a girl friend already had plans. My son then asked if she would like to do something else some other time—she said “yes” or so he thought. However, during the brief conversation she explained to my son that she was not allowed to date—he said he understood and that he would honor her parent’s wishes.

He immediately wrote a very short and complimentary note expressing his excitement over the prospect of the two of them “hanging” out sometime and reiterating that he understood that she was not allowed to date—but that was ok by him, he just wanted to get to know her better. He brought the note to me; I made some suggestions for revision which he applied to his work. She received the note the next day. That very same night my son entered into an instant messaging conversation with the young lady. She rather harshly informed him that he misunderstood her intentions (she had obviously read his note) and that she did not want to hang out with him. My son was crushed. I was in another room when he received the news. He came and asked me to his room, took care of an unrelated item of business, and informed me of the young lady’s communication with him.

I could tell that he felt like there was something wrong with him, that he failed somehow, that his hope of just being valued enough to be known by a female peer had been beaten down severely. I was distraught. I had guided him through the process, counseled him and encouraged him, but the outcome was horrible—he was hurt, disappointed and left out—again.

I did not sleep well that night, nor the next, it was as if his pain afflicted my heart, perhaps even doubly so since I felt responsible: I had guided his unsuccessful attempt.

How much more our Heavenly Father, in encouraging us to follow His will sees us hurt, disappointed, persecuted or left out.  God is not a general coldly issuing commands to his soldiers on the front from the distant warmth of a war room. He is not a coach, intent on His plan being worked out without variance, screaming orders from the sideline. God is not an employer blithely instructing his underlings regarding the tasks of the day. God is the One who says of us “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.” (Matthew 25.40)

I understand the meaning of Jesus’ statement far better today.  It is the declaration of a father’s heart.