Notes From Friday Night Church

I have a friend who, when praying, calls his Heavenly Father "Abba Papa." I love that. It makes me feel each time he says it, like he's just picking up a left-off conversation that's deep and intimate and like there's a million inside jokes packed in that they've shared. I bet they have.

Every time Danny sees a picture of Alejandro while he's not home, he excitedly says, "PAPA!!" It doesn't matter if it's on my phone, on the computer, on my blog, on the fridge, or anywhere. All he has to do is catch a glimpse of his image and the excited holler comes out: "PAPA!!"

What if we did that? What if we yelled, "Abba Papa!!" every time we caught a tiny little glimpse of Him. Maybe that's what He meant when He said he wanted us to have child-like faith. "Come to me as little children," He says.

When Danny sees his Papa come home, he drops everything he's doing and runs to the window. He climbs up to the glass, squishes his hands and face against it and yells, "Papa!!" until he can't see him anymore.

And then he practically dives off the ledge, runs across the room and zooms down the stairs to meet him in the living room.

But seeing him isn't enough. He stands at his Papa's feet, with his hands raised high, opening and closing, grasping at his Papa, begging him to lift him into his arms. Sometimes he just wants to be in his arms, but more often than not, he immediately motions to the garage, the Jeep, or the backyard. He wants to do whatever his Papa is doing. He wants to go do his father's work with him, side by side, as a team. With his Daddy, there's nothing he can't do.

What if we did that?

And I sing, "In my life, be lifted high, Lord."

And He whispers, "This is all I want, child. To be your Abba Papa."