Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of Himself, unless it is something He sees the Father doing…. For the Father loves the Son, and shows Him all things that He Himself is doing.
—Jesus
From the very beginning, the Hebrew Bible proclaims God as the Creator of the heavens and the earth. And at no point does it give the impression that the Lord is only marginally interested in his creation. God is not an abstract divinity, a deistic creator who makes the universe, sets it in motion, and then steps back to let it fend for itself or go its own way. Neither is God a legalist who appears long enough to dispense a set of sacred rules and then leaves with the threat of a future, final reckoning. The God of the Bible is an involved God. He is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the covenant God; the Lord, who stoops in grace to call Abraham to himself and binds himself in relationship to Abraham and Israel.
However, even given the Lord’s personal involvement, and given the wonderful care for and relationship he has with his people, there is nonetheless always a profound distance between the Lord and Israel. Even Moses, the archetypal servant of the Lord, was permitted only to see the “back” of God.1 And the high priest, whom the Lord chose to minister in his presence, was permitted to enter the holy of holies, the place of the Lord’s dwelling, only once a year—and then only after going through an elaborate system of cleansing.2
It is in this context of involvement and personal relationship, yet reservation and distance between God and Israel, that Jesus Christ appears in Israel’s history. And he does so with what can only be described as shocking familiarity with God. To begin with, Jesus speaks about God from a position of assurance: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son…. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.”3 Instead of summarizing others, in the style that was typical of the rabbis of his day, Jesus spoke simply out of direct knowledge of God, and did so “as one having authority.”4 “Never has a man spoken the way this man speaks.”5
Traditionally, the word amen (“truly”) was “used to affirm, endorse or appropriate the words of another person,” but in the speech of Jesus, amen was “used without exception to introduce and endorse” his own words.6 “Truly, truly (amen, amen), I say to you, unless one is born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”7 Jesus operates with unquestionable authority, not only assuming a position of equality with the Scriptures, but having “the unparalleled and revolutionary boldness to set himself up in opposition to the Torah.”8 But his authority is not the kind that arises out of certainty as to the abstract will of God. What we see in Jesus is more deeply grounded. It is authority and confidence arising out of inside knowledge, out of deep and personal familiarity with the very heart of God. This is the primer, as it were, which alerts us to something far more profound than a prophetic presence.
In the entire Old Testament there are only fifteen9 places where God is actually called “Father,” and even then it is in general terms—God is the Father of Israel10 or of the King,11 who represents Israel. The fatherhood of God is certainly present in the Old Testament, but it is nothing like the central point of Israel’s thinking about God. But in Jesus we encounter One standing within Israel who speaks of God as Father more than one hundred times in John’s Gospel alone (179 in all four Gospels). At times it seems as if every other statement begins with “The Father”; for example, in John 5:21–22 Jesus says, “For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son also gives life to whom He wishes. For not even the Father judges anyone, but He has given all judgment to the Son.”
The phrase “the Father” is virtually a refrain in Jesus’ famous Sermon on the Mount. And, as we have seen, the Father himself is the theme of Jesus’ most famous parable.12 There is not a single instance in the entire Old Testament, including the Psalms, of an individual addressing God in prayer as “Father”; yet Jesus, in stunning contrast, prays to God as Father in all his prayers—with the exception of the cry from the cross,13 which is a quotation from Psalm 22:1.
In Jesus, the conception of God as Father moves from the periphery to center stage. No longer is it simply there lurking in the background; in Jesus it becomes the focus. And this betrays a personal consciousness of God on Jesus’ part that is well beyond receiving a prophetic word to proclaim. It betrays a profound intimacy with God—a unique relationship with him.
The intimacy and the uniqueness of his relationship with God is conveyed all the more powerfully by the Aramaic word Abba, the word Jesus would have used, rendered in Greek by the Gospel writers as Pater (Father).14 Abba is the word of a child addressing his or her father. This is not the language of distance or formality, not the language of Jewish reservation or reticence, nor of religion or servile fawning. Abba is the language of thoroughgoing naturalness and assurance, of awareness of real belonging. It is respectful and honoring, but its main nuance is endearment and intimacy. As James D. G. Dunn says:
It is difficult therefore to escape the conclusion that Jesus said “Abba” to God for precisely the same reason that (most of) his contemporaries refrained from its use in prayer—viz., because it expressed his attitude to God as Father, his experience of God as one of unusual intimacy.15
Abba suggests an image of unceremonious closeness and warmth, of undaunted familiarity and at-homeness with God.
What are we to make of the fact that Jesus addresses God not only as Father, but as Abba, Papa? According to Jeremias, this venture in language “was something new and unheard of,”16 perhaps revolutionary. This, of course, is a matter of scholarly debate.17 What is not debatable is the striking fact that more than sixty times in the Gospels (nearly forty times in John) Jesus uses the phrase “my Father,” which has no parallel in the Hebrew Bible. And according to Jeremias, it has no parallel in all the literature of Judaism.18 No biblical Jew would have dared conceive of such a standing with God. It would have been blasphemously familiar, which is the very accusation the Jewish leadership leveled at Jesus.19
The plain and astonishing fact is that this language was commonplace for Jesus. At the age of twelve, for example, he queries his parents, who have been searching for him at least two days: “Why is it that you were looking for Me? Did you not know that I had to be in My Father’s house?”20 And straightaway in his public ministry, Jesus, in John’s Gospel, cleanses the temple with the words: “Take these things away; stop making My Father’s house a place of business.”21 Again and again Jesus refers to God not only as “Father,” but as “my Father.” And as a correlate he refers to himself not only as a Son but as the Son. In terms of the Bible, Jesus’ relationship with God, whom he called “Father,” “my Father,” and Abba, is in a class by itself.
The uniqueness of this relationship is confirmed from God’s side in the divine declaration about Jesus: “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom my soul delights,”22 which is proclaimed from heaven in dramatic fashion on at least two occasions—at Jesus’ baptism and after his transfiguration.23 This statement declares the presence of the unique and only Son of God. At the Transfiguration, this declaration was spoken to the three disciples with a nuance of rebuke, for in his excitement Peter wanted to build three tabernacles—one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Evidently he conceived of the three on equal terms. And the scriptural writer makes sure we understand that it was while Peter was suggesting building the three tabernacles that the word of declaration was spoken—as if to say, “Peter, what are you doing? This is not another Moses. This is not another Elijah. This is not merely the long-awaited Messiah. This is my Son, my beloved and only Son.”
What we encounter in Jesus’ assumption of such authority, in his whole approach to God, in his extraordinary language and confident familiarity with God, and in God’s own declaration from heaven to and about him, is a divine-human relationship that is unparalleled in biblical Israel. Throughout Israel’s history we see mutual personal involvement between God and humanity, but there is always distance. God is always transcendent in his presence; he is always other. We see Moses spending days with God on the mountain, so much so that his face glowed. We read of Abraham as the friend of God, and we hear David called the man after God’s own heart. But of no one do we ever read the divine declaration: “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom my soul delights.” And we never read, “Abba, Father,” in response to God.
The relationship between Jesus the Son and the God he called “my Father” was an exclusive and intimate relationship so unthinkable to the Jews that they took up stones to kill him for blasphemy. For in “calling God His own Father,” he was “making Himself equal with God.”24 They could only take his familiarity as undiluted arrogance. This relationship collapsed the distance between God and man, placing Jesus where no human being in the Bible had ever been placed—in the closest proximity to God, in the bosom of the Father25 as the Beloved, in shocking intimacy with God.
The language of Father and Son, the address “my Father,” and the declaration “my Son,” the access, the confidence and at-homeness of Jesus with God, all place him in a singular relationship with God. As P. T. Forsyth said, “In Jesus Christ we have one who was conscious of standing in an entirely unique relation to the living God.”26 But this relationship is not static, nor is it a matter of mere status or words. It is a living relationship, taking shape in action. The declaration “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom my soul delights,” is both a revelation about Jesus’ identity and a revelation of the Father’s heart toward him. “Abba, Father,” likewise, is not only the verbal response of Jesus; it is the description of his life.
Jesus was not a deist. For him, God was not an infinite, unmoved omnipotence or a nebulous force who created the universe and then moved on to higher things. Neither was God a bookkeeping legalist. For Jesus, God was the passionate, present, and embracing Father who was utterly for him, and this fact filled Jesus’ heart. Jesus was loved and lavishly embraced, and he knew it. “My Father,” not religion, is Jesus’ response, and it is the response of his whole being and life. As we see so graphically in the cleansing of the temple,27 zeal for his Father and for his Father’s honor is Jesus’ answer. “My food is to do the will of Him who sent me and to accomplish His work.”28
Jesus lives by relating to God as his Father, by seeking him and knowing him as Father and loving him with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength. His life is not really his at all; it is sonship. He never lives on his own, doing his own thing, following his own agenda. He has no self-interest. “Not what I will, but what you will be done,”29 is not just the prayer in Gethsemane; it is the prayer of his whole life. It is a travesty, therefore, to speak of Jesus merely as Jesus, as a man, who did this or accomplished that. Every breath he drew, every act and decision he took, every moment he lived, every word he uttered, was not merely as Jesus, but as the Father’s Son in direct relationship with him: “I do nothing on My own initiative, but I speak these things as the Father taught Me.”30 “I can do nothing on My own initiative. As I hear, I judge.”31 “The words that I say to you I do not speak on My own initiative, but the Father abiding in Me does His works.”32
The declaration “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom my soul delights,” and Jesus’ response, “Abba, Father,” reveal a passionate fellowship. There is nothing cold or distant or hesitant, and certainly nothing legal about it. It is heart-to-heart, overflowing with mutual delight, devotion, and communication. Recall here, in The Shack, Jesus’ pride in Papa and his adoration for the way she treated Mackenzie: “Papa, I loved watching you today, as you made yourself fully available to take Mack’s pain into yourself, and then give him space to choose his own timing” (109). And hear also Papa’s pride and joy in Jesus:
“Yup, I love that boy.” Papa looked away and shook her head. “Everything’s about him, you know. One day you folk will understand what he gave up. There are just no words.” (193)
Young here captures the warmth and mutual affection in the relationship between Jesus and his Father. This mutual affection and pride translate “Thou art my beloved Son” into “The Father loves the Son, and shows Him all things that He Himself is doing.”33 And the affection and pride translate “Abba, Father,” into “The Son can do nothing of Himself, unless it is something He sees the Father doing; for whatever the Father does, these things the Son also does in like manner.”34 The Father is utterly riveted to his Son’s every move; he is the beloved Son. And the Son is in tune with his Father’s heart and filled with joyous passion for its pleasure. “I always do the things that are pleasing to Him.”35
This is a relationship of the deepest affections of the soul. There is no dead ritual, no facade or shame or hiding or reticence. The Jesus of the New Testament is so aware of God’s presence, so aware of the present God as his Father, and so confident in his relationship with him; and in turn his Father has such earnest joy in him and affection for him, that they share everything and live in utmost fellowship. The formula “Thou art my beloved Son” and “Abba, Father,” signals a living, personal, and active relationship of profound love and togetherness, a rich and blessed communion in which all things are shared.
The uniqueness and intimacy of this relationship are given verbal expression in the amazing statement of Jesus in Matthew 11:27:
All things have been handed over to Me by My Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal Him.
Jesus boldly claims here to be the recipient of “all things” from the Father—not a few things, not even the main ones, but all things.36 As he says elsewhere, all authority in heaven and on earth,37 all judgment and the very power of life,38 have been given to him. Indeed, he says, “all things that the Father has are Mine.”39 But here, in Matthew 11:27, the phrase “all things” is qualified and made all the more remarkable by the next part: “and no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son.” This statement shifts the meaning of “all things” from abstractions to the concrete realm of persons, encounter, and communion.
Jeremias interprets the verse in this way:
Like a father who personally devotes himself to explaining the letters of the Torah to his son, like a father who initiates a son into the well-preserved secrets of his craft, so God has transmitted to me the revelation of himself, and therefore I alone can pass on to others the real knowledge of God.40
This interpretation is helpful on two fronts. First, it highlights the fact that the phrase “all things” refers fundamentally not to things at all but to the revelation of God. Second, it highlights the fact that Jesus is the unique recipient of this revelation. The Father has personally devoted himself to transmitting the revelation to Jesus alone.
But this interpretation is misleading in that it does not capture the deep and rich communion that is involved in this revelation. Revelation is not a thing or a doctrine, mere information that can be transmitted from mind to mind. Revelation involves the unveiling or uncovering of God’s Self in personal disclosure. What one encounters in revelation is not simply facts about God, or even accurate information, but God in person. Revelation involves an encounter with the person beyond the words, and gives rise to communion. This is exactly why Jesus does not say, “No one knows the truth about God.” He says, “No one knows the Father.” For what is unique about Jesus is not only that he has received the revelation of God, but that this revelation is the unveiling to him of the Father himself.
In Matthew 11:27 Jesus is claiming that he stands alone within a closed circle of personal encounter with the Father himself. What he has and knows that no one else has or knows is the Father, and what the Father has and knows that no one else has or knows is the Son. The accent is upon the mutual knowing of persons—and upon the fact that this mutual knowing is deep and rich. Thus, knowing here is not data processing, but communion. It is the interchange of souls, involving self-exposure and mutual sharing of the innermost being. So much so that, comparatively speaking, no one else qualifies as really knowing the Father or the Son at all.
Here we are approaching the heart of the relationship of the Father and Son. It is a fellowship involving an incomparable level of personal encounter in love. As we have seen, John introduces his entire Gospel stressing the sheer closeness, the face-to-face intimacy of Jesus and the Father. This is the deep truth we hear in the declaration “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom my soul delights,” and Jesus’ response, “Abba, Father.” The declaration and the response point us to a relationship of warmth and love, which gives rise to an abounding fellowship. For the gift of the Father to Jesus is not a thing, not a word, not information or abstract authority or power, but himself in passionate love. And likewise, the response of Jesus to his Father is not merely one of outward obedience. He responds by loving the Father with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength.
Our thinking is being led from a consideration of unique standing and position to that of personal encounter and communion of the most intimate and profound kind. The relationship of the Father and the Son is a communion of self-giving love so real and true and personal that Jesus says not only that he knows the Father, but that he is in the Father and the Father is in him.41 Such language, straightforward and simple as it is, stretches the frontiers of our imaginations. What could it possibly mean? Here is a relationship so beautiful and deep and personal that Jesus and his Father dwell in one another. And they do so to such a degree, so to speak, that Jesus says: “He who believes in Me, does not believe in Me but in Him who sent Me. He who sees Me sees the One who sent Me.”42 “He who has seen Me has seen the Father.”43 “I and the Father are one.”44