Silas Has a Father

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ll of Silas’ friends had dads—dads who drove trucks, dads who fished, dads who bought groceries, dads who taught, dads who preached, dads who played catch with them. But Silas did not, and that made him sad sometimes. 

Silas learned a prayer in his church that Jesus taught His people to say. It starts with, “Our Father.”

“But I don’t have a father,” Silas said.

His Sunday school teacher knelt close to him. “You may not have an earthly father, but you have a Father in Heaven, and He calls you His child. That’s why Jesus told us to begin our prayers with, ‘Our Father.’”

“What else does the prayer say?” Silas asked.

His Sunday school teacher smiled. “Let’s go through it together!” She opened her Bible.

“‘Hallowed be Your name.’ This means that we want our Heavenly Father to be respected and honored for being holy. ‘Holy’ means that He is unlike us and never sins. He always does what is right, good, true, and beautiful. He is perfect in every way.”

“The next line says, ‘Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.’ In this part of the prayer, we tell our Heavenly Father that we want His plan to come true instead of our own.”

“But what if His plan isn’t good? What if it’s a bad plan?” Silas asked.

Another child spoke up. “One time my dad wanted to take us skating, but we had to turn around because it was too snowy outside!”

Their Sunday school teacher nodded. “Yes, sometimes earthly dads make mistakes or make bad choices or want the wrong things. But because our Heavenly Father is holy, He always wants and does what is right. His plans are always good and the best for us, which is why we can ask for His will to be done.”

“Is that all of the prayer?” Silas asked.

“There’s more,” his teacher said. “‘Give us today our daily bread.’ Our Heavenly Father created and holds the entire world with His hands, and because His will is good, He can provide for our every need. Sometimes daddies aren’t able to get us what we need, but God always does.”

“The next line says, ‘And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.’ Every one of us sins—we do what is wrong and what God tells us not to do, just like how we disobey our parents or caregivers sometimes. Sometimes, when we do something wrong, people have trouble forgiving us, even when we say we’re sorry and don’t do the wrong action anymore. But our Heavenly Father always forgives His children.”

Silas scrunched his face up. “Why? What if what we did was really mean? Wouldn’t God stop loving us or leave us?”

The Sunday school teacher shook her head. 

“Will He punish us? Will He put us in a really long timeout?” a little girl asked.

“No,” the Sunday school teacher answered. “Because our Heavenly Father’s true Son, Jesus Christ, took the punishment for our sins that we deserved. That’s why He forgives us when we turn away from our sins and why He calls us His children. You become His child too when you trust that Jesus took your punishment.”

Silas nodded. “But what about when we keep sinning? It’s so hard not to sin.”

“It is hard,” the Sunday school teacher said. “That’s why we pray the last line: ‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.’ When we are a child of our Heavenly Father, He gives us His Holy Spirit to help us stop sinning. He uses the Bible to teach us not to sin and He protects us from temptations that are too strong for us. He helps us love our Heavenly Father so much that we hate what He hates—which is sin. Sometimes parents and caregivers don’t know the right thing to do all the time, but God has all knowledge and wisdom and goodness, so He does, and He can guide us when others don’t know how or what to say.”

“But how does our Heavenly Father do all these things?” Silas asked. “What about all His other children? He can’t do this for me all the time.”

His Sunday school teacher shook her head. “Your Heavenly Father isn’t like earthly fathers, remember? He can be everywhere and with everyone at the same time and never leave any of you alone. And He doesn’t want to—because He loves you so, so much!”

On the drive home after church, Silas noticed a girl and her dad flying a kite in their yard. The wind yanked the kite high, and for a moment Silas felt as if he’d been yanked low—because he didn’t have a dad to fly a kite with when he got home. 

But Silas remembered the prayer his Sunday school teacher had taught him, and he prayed silently in his head, “Dear Father …” (Matthew 6:9–13).

The featured image, “St James Park in November – London,” is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and is used with her glad permission for Cultivating.

Lara d'Entremont

Lara d’Entremont is first a wife and a mom to three little wildlings in rural Nova Scotia, Canada. While the wildlings snore, she primarily writes—whether it be personal essays, creative nonfiction, or fantasy novels. She desires to weave the stories between faith and fiction, theology and praxis, for women who feel as if these pieces of them are always at odds. Her first book, A Mother Held, is a collection of essays on the early days of motherhood and anxiety. Much of her writing is inspired by the forest and ocean that surround her, and her little ones that remind her to stop and see it. 

www.laradentremont.com