When my daughter Jenna was twelve, I took her to Jerusalem. As we were exiting the Jaffa gate, an orthodox Jewish family was in front of us—a father and his three small girls. One of the daughters fell a few steps behind and couldn’t see her father. “Abba!” she called to him. “Abba!” she called again. He spotted her and immediately extended his hand.
As they continued, I wanted to see the actions of an abba. He held her hand tightly in his. When he stopped at a busy street, she stepped off the curb and he pulled her back. When the signal changed, he carried her and led her sisters through the intersection.
Isn’t that what we all need? An abba who will hear when we call? An abba who will swing us up into his arms and carry us home? Don’t we all need an Abba Father?
