The family of God

 Whether your born into it, or married into it, or drawn in by invitation or circumstances, each of us have family connections. Families that made us who we are. Families that drive us ‘round the bend.’ Families that supported us in our worst moments. Families that celebrate us and anchor us. The dynamics are complicated. And most of us wouldn’t have it any other way.

When it comes to telling our family stories, we generally start with a history. A litany of the ways in which our parents, grandparents, great grandparents (and so on) made their way and their connections. They met, they worked, perhaps the emigrated. They put down roots and built-up lives and stories and all of this becomes a part of us.

The stories we tell about ourselves and our families don’t always cover all the ground. There are memories we can’t - or won’t - share. Painful things. Hurtful things. Stuff that doesn’t reflect well on the character or the conscience of the family heroes. We work hard to keep those things quiet. We work harder to overcome those shadows, so they don’t persist. These stories - even though they are rarely told - help make us who we are.

In our lives, the challenging stories can have a lasting impact. Tragedies roll down the generations, leaving a mark. We come to be known by the guilt of our grandsires; by the shame of our siblings. This can be difficult to endure. We rarely remember the stories of our collective innocence. They are too far distant. Lost to time.

That is what makes THIS family different. This vast, hard to imagine, family of God. A family full of contradictions. A family seemingly without limit. A family with a branch in every country - covering every culture, language and yes, every religious expression. THIS family learns its earliest stories through Scripture, and many of these stories are not very complimentary.

And in the centre of this vast family - the centre of all of our stories, in fact - is the looming, all knowing, Creator. God the Father. The head of a very unruly household.

There are stories - like this one from the prophet Hosea - that sound like ‘end of the road’ stories. The family is fractured. They have wandered away. They are playing false - running from their values, careless with their heritage - and it would be easy to imagine that God might disown everyone. But this is where the family analogy gets a new life.

 

We can easily imagine that God, who loves us and made us in the divine image, would act as we might act. In us, frustration brings ultimatum: “Shape up or ship out!” But we can’t imagine that God would fall prey to nostalgia:

I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. 

I bent down to them and fed them.

How can I give you up, Ephraim? 

How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah? 

How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;

 my compassion grows warm and tender.
I will not execute my fierce anger;

 I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and no mortal,

 the Holy One in your midst, 

and I will not come in wrath.

God remembers, not the arrogance of our adulthood, but the innocence of our youth. The tender-hearted God is moved by memory of what was - and the hope of what might yet be. And we are reminded that God is God - unfathomable. Quick to surprise us. Infinitely patient and boundless in mercy.

It’s possible that we cannot reform ourselves. The stories that make us have a very firm hold on us. But God seems only potential in us, and that (frankly) is a great relief.

It is a bigger challenge when Jesus suggests that we must ‘receive the kingdom ‘as a little child…’ For too long we have imagined that meant doom if we didn’t ensure our kids were Christians - we put our hopes on Christian Education wings (in the ’50’s and ’60’s) and now we fret because so many of those CE complexes are empty. We talk about children as the future of the church, and are rightly worried when there don’t seem to be enough. But here’s the thing.

The prophet reminds us that God looks at us and sees us innocent, beautiful and full of promise.

I will suggest to you that Jesus is echoing the same notion expressed in Hosea. We are here reminded to remember our innocence - our child-like curiosity. Ti put aside our grown-up notions that we are fully formed and therefore unchangeable. We are also challenged to let go of the idea that God reacts as we do - holding grudges and offering ultimatums. God has not - will not - cannot forget the potential in us. And Jesus calls us to a child-like exploration of the world around us - one that will more easily find beauty and wonder and love and acceptance.

Families aren’t perfect - ever - and the family of God is no exception. But the head of this household is God, not human. And with God there is infinite capacity for grace - infinite opportunity for redemption. In God’s eyes, we are all still able to reach our potential. And with Jesus’ help, we’ll get there.