Trusting God as Our Eternal Father

Divine Appeal Reflection - 161

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 161:  "Many know My Eternal Father as their God and creator but few trust in Him as their Eternal Father."

There is a vast distance between knowing that God exists and allowing oneself to be a child before Him. A person can believe that God created the universe, governs history, and possesses infinite power, while secretly living as though everything depends upon personal strength (cf. Gen 1:1; Ps 19:1–4). The deeper revelation brought by Jesus is not simply that God possesses infinite power (cf. Mt 6:9; Jn 20:17), but that the Almighty desires to draw humanity into the intimate communion of children with their Father. The Catechism explains that God is revealed as Father not merely because He created all things, but because His eternal Fatherhood is revealed in His relationship with the Son, into which we are graciously invited through Christ . The Christian therefore does not approach God merely as a distant sovereign but as the Father whose providence reaches even the smallest details of human existence . Abraham had to learn this when God asked him to leave the security of what he knew without showing him the entire future (cf. Gen 12:1–4). His obedience was therefore not simply belief in God's existence; it was an act of filial confidence.  A young graduate facing unemployment may know intellectually that God provides, yet wake each morning consumed by fear. A priest carrying an uncertain parish may work tirelessly because he secretly believes that everything rests upon his competence. An elderly person whose savings are disappearing may feel abandoned even while praying daily. The revelation of divine Fatherhood asks a deeper question: Do I merely believe that God can provide, or do I trust that I am already held by Him? (cf. Rom 8:15–16). St Catherine of Siena's writings continually return to the tenderness and providence of God toward His children. St John of the Cross shows that the soul must gradually surrender its demand for visible securities so that faith may become purer. The Father may permit uncertainty not because He has withdrawn, but because He is teaching the heart to live from Him rather than from circumstances (cf. Jn 15:9–10).

Divine Fatherhood becomes especially difficult to believe when providence passes through silence, delay, and apparent contradiction. Scripture gives us Joseph, son of Jacob, whose life seems repeatedly to move in the wrong direction: betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and forgotten in prison (cf. Gen 37:23–28; Gen 39:19–23; Gen 40:23). Yet beneath every apparent abandonment, God is mysteriously preparing a future Joseph cannot see (cf. Gen 50:19–20). This is one of the deepest forms of filial trust: believing in the Father's heart when His plan is invisible. A woman may pray for years for reconciliation within her family and see no change. A missionary may labour in a poor village with apparently little fruit. A couple may struggle financially despite living honestly. A seminarian may experience years of uncertainty concerning vocation. A farmer may watch an entire season's work threatened by drought. A person caring for an elderly parent may wonder why providence seems to demand so much. None of these situations can be reduced to simplistic explanations. Christian trust does not mean pretending that suffering is pleasant or that every tragedy is directly caused by God (cf. CCC 309–314). Rather, it means refusing to conclude that because we cannot see God's action, God must therefore be absent (cf. Rom 8:28). St Raphael Kalinowski, after imprisonment and exile, discovered fidelity through long periods in which the future remained hidden.  St Josephine Bakhita's life reveals how divine providence can slowly draw meaning and freedom out of circumstances that initially appear utterly devastating . The Father often works beneath the visible surface of events. The seed disappears beneath the soil before becoming fruitful (cf. Mk 4:26–29). The Eucharistic mystery itself teaches this hiddenness:(cf. CCC 1374) Christ is truly present while His divinity remains veiled beneath sacramental signs . Faith therefore learns to adore the Father even when providence is hidden. This is not passivity. Joseph still served faithfully in prison (cf. Gen 40:4–8); the Christian still works, seeks counsel, plans responsibly, and acts with prudence (cf. CCC 1806). Trust means doing today's duty without demanding that the Father reveal tomorrow. 

One of the most profound obstacles to trusting God as Father is that human fatherhood can distort our imagination of divine Fatherhood. Someone raised by an absent father may unconsciously imagine God as absent. Someone abused by a father may struggle to hear the word “Father” without fear. Someone whose father was emotionally cold may assume that God is perpetually disappointed. Someone who grew up in poverty may believe that love must always be earned through performance. Yet Christ reveals the Father not according to wounded human images but according to His own eternal relationship with Him (cf. Jn 14:8–11; Jn 17:1–5). The prodigal son's father gives us a powerful revelation of divine initiative: the father watches, waits, recognizes, and runs toward the returning son before the son can repair his entire life (cf. Lk 15:17–24). Hagar discovers a God who sees her when human relationships have failed her (cf. Gen 16:7–13). Mephibosheth, (cf. 2 Sam 9:6–13) physically vulnerable and socially displaced, receives unexpected kindness and a place at David's table . These stories reveal a God whose fatherly love is not earned by human perfection .  St Elizabeth of the Trinity invites the soul to discover the indwelling God rather than imagining Him as perpetually distant. Consider a survivor of childhood neglect who sits before the Blessed Sacrament and finds the word “Father” difficult to pray. Consider an elderly man who has spent his entire life providing for everyone else and now feels useless because he can no longer work. The Father does not ask these souls to manufacture trust instantly; He patiently teaches them sonship (cf. Rom 8:15–16). The Catechism teaches that Jesus' revelation of the Father is the heart of Christian prayer and that through Christ we receive the Spirit who enables us to approach God with filial confidence (cf. CCC 2780–2785). Thus prayer becomes more than asking for things. It becomes allowing God to heal our distorted expectations of love. The Holy Spirit gradually teaches the wounded heart that divine Fatherhood is not another human relationship waiting to disappoint it (cf. Rom 8:26–27).

Trust in the Eternal Father reaches its most concrete test in ordinary anxiety. Jesus does not deny the realities of food, clothing, work, illness, or tomorrow; He teaches His disciples not to allow these realities to become masters of the heart (cf. Mt 6:25–34). Martha's anxiety shows how even service can become disordered when the heart loses recollection of the One for whom it serves (cf. Lk 10:38–42). Elijah, (cf. 1 Kgs 18:36–39; 19:1–8) after extraordinary prophetic victories, collapses beneath fear and exhaustion . God does not first give him a theological lecture. He allows him to sleep, eat, walk, and encounter Him in a gentle mystery (cf. 1 Kgs 19:5–13). This is profoundly human. Sometimes trust in the Father begins not with heroic spiritual experiences but with accepting that we are creatures with limits.  A father whose business is failing may need to make one honest financial decision instead of imagining ten catastrophes. A student awaiting examination results may pray, study responsibly, and then surrender what cannot be controlled (cf. Phil 4:6–7). A religious superior may make a prudent decision while accepting that not everyone will understand it. A person facing a serious illness may seek proper treatment while placing the outcome into God's hands (cf. Sir 38:1–15). Childlike trust is therefore not childish irresponsibility. It does not reject medicine, planning, work, professional advice, or prudent preparation . It means that responsibility is carried without the illusion of omnipotence. Their lives reveal different expressions of the same interior movement: the child works faithfully but does not pretend to be the Father. This distinction can liberate exhausted souls. You may be responsible for your work, but not for controlling every outcome. You may love your children, but you cannot govern their freedom. You may serve the Church, but you cannot carry the entire Church upon your shoulders (cf. 1 Pet 5:7). The Father remains Father. Trust begins when the creature accepts the beautiful poverty of being a creature (cf. Ps 131:1–2).

The deepest dimension of this mystery is eschatological: the Father is not merely helping us survive earthly existence; He is drawing us home to Himself (cf. Jn 14:1–6). Every earthly security eventually passes away. Possessions disappear, careers end, bodies weaken, relationships change, and human recognition fades (cf. Mt 6:19–21). The Christian's ultimate security therefore cannot be found in circumstances but in belonging to God eternally (cf. Rom 8:35–39). The story of the father and the returning son reaches beyond forgiveness into restoration of identity and belonging (cf. Lk 15:22–24). The dying thief discovers at the final threshold that even a life marked by failure can still turn toward Christ in trust (cf. Lk 23:39–43). Simeon can finally depart in peace after recognizing salvation in Christ (cf. Lk 2:25–32). Anna,(cf. Lk 2:36–38) the aged widow who devoted her remaining years to prayer and worship, demonstrates that a life hidden from public attention can still bear immense spiritual fruit through steadfast fidelity . Her quiet perseverance before God became a witness that holiness does not depend upon visibility or achievement. Blessed Maria Gabriella Sagheddu offers another powerful example: through a life largely unknown to the world, she offered her prayers and sacrifices for the unity of Christians, showing that hidden surrender can mysteriously contribute to the healing and mission of the whole Church . Her life shows that trusting the Father can become an offering for people we may never meet. This is the apostolic consequence of filial confidence: the child who knows he is held becomes free to give himself (cf. 2 Cor 5:14–15). A father can release his adult child without possessing him. A priest can serve without needing applause. A missionary can labour without demanding visible success. A contemplative can pray for souls she will never encounter. A dying Christian can surrender gradually rather than desperately clinging to control . The Eucharist becomes a profound school of this belonging because Christ gives Himself to us and draws us into communion with the Father through the Spirit . The soul eventually discovers that divine providence is not merely God arranging events around us; it is God forming us into children who can finally receive Him completely (cf. Rom 8:28–30). The mature Christian therefore does not pray only, “Father, change my circumstances.” He learns to pray, “Father, whatever You permit, do not let me lose the knowledge that I belong to You” (cf. Jn 10:27–29). That is the deepest passage from knowing God as Creator to trusting Him as Eternal Father.

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, heal every place within us that fears the love of Your Eternal Father. Teach us to trust when His providence is hidden, when our prayers seem delayed, and when tomorrow frightens us. Through You and the Holy Spirit, make us true children of the Father: peaceful in uncertainty, faithful in duty, generous in sacrifice, and confident in His everlasting embrace . Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.