How a Father’s Love Reveals the God Who Knows and Loves Us Completely
Photo of author and her father, supplied by author.
A recent article by Winfree Brisley for The Gospel Coalition promoted the idea of wives giving men time to cultivate friendship even if it meant they lost “some of their time and help.” It also suggested that the decline in male friendship in recent times might be at least partly attributed to the demands of helping more at home. I disagreed with the view that somehow fathering and friendship are in competition with each other. Healthy fatherhood does not diminish friendship or vocation; it deepens them, because love freely given overflows into every relationship.
I have had occasion recently to reflect on good fatherhood. Two years ago, I woke up to a world without my darling father. After a long and brave battle with cancer, he went home to be with his heavenly Father on October 3, 2023. Though doctors told us we would not have him past Easter, by God’s grace we shared another six months: time for light rail adventures with his granddaughter, maths homework with his grandson, and even one last whisky with me on Father’s Day.
But these final gifts were only the closing notes of a lifetime of steadfast love. From the moment he learned my mother was pregnant, Dad sought to reflect God’s love in the way he cared for her, my brother, and me. His love was expressed through presence and sacrifice: dawn drives to rowing training, years of music lessons, and morning quizzes that sharpened our minds. In his daily, ordinary choices, we knew ourselves cherished. This is what fatherhood at its best looks like: not distant authority, but embodied love making God’s own faithfulness visible in human form.
In my dad, I encountered not just a father’s love, but the love of the Father; steady, tangible, unembarrassed to defend, always ready to serve. And this love only magnified when he became a grandfather, and especially as he became the most significant man in the lives of my two children.
One particular moment stands out above all others. Visiting me in Orange in 2009, Dad took my newborn and me to a café. When I discreetly breastfed, nearby women expressed their disapproval to him, assuming he must be embarrassed. They misjudged him. My father rose to the occasion with conviction: defending my right to feed my child, and naming it a beautiful, life-giving act. And when my baby was done feeding, he held her against his shoulder so I could eat my lunch before him. In that simple act and countless others, I knew I was seen, understood, defended, delighted in, just as we are with God the Father.
As 1 John 3:1 declares: “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” Our vision for earthly fathers must be like this, flowing from God the Father, full of compassion, forgiveness, and provision. A vision of a Heavenly Father who gives bread, not stone; who runs in delight to embrace the prodigal (Matthew 7:9-11, Luke 15). And, as 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 reminds us, God is “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive.” In this sense, true fatherhood participates in the divine life; it is not ownership, but outpouring. In lavishing his love on me and my daughter, my father gave me a living glimpse of the Father’s own chesed; steadfast, practical, utterly faithful.
Scripture shows again and again that fatherhood is not primarily about hierarchy or control, but about covenantal love; the kind that keeps showing up, provides, forgives, protects, and delights. Biblical fatherhood is expansive, embodied in love and relationship, not hierarchy. On that day in the café in Orange, that is exactly what my father did: he stood alongside me, advocating and sacrificing for his child and mine. And so it was fitting that at his funeral, that little baby, now a teenager, read Psalm 103: “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.” My father lived this compassion intimately and deeply, and through it I came to know the Father who knows me. It is the most precious gift a father could give his child.
Yet, of course, not every child has experienced a father like this. It is worth naming that reality, because to do so honours those whose experiences have been different. Some know the ache of distance, indifference, or harm. Others have found themselves searching for the love and stability they did not receive. My own children have been blessed to find that steadfast, faithful love in their grandfather and uncle, two men who have reflected the heart of the Heavenly Father through presence, humour, wisdom, and care.
Their example reminds us that this kind of love isn’t just found between a biological father and his own child. It is a spiritual vocation to nurture life, to be present, and to reflect the Father’s steadfast love wherever we are placed. And even when human fathers fail or fall short, we can take comfort in knowing that we have a perfect Father who never will. He is the one who promises never to leave nor forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6), who sees, who knows, and who delights in His children.
It is a pity that many of our church communities are slow to celebrate fathers who are deeply involved in their children’s lives in practical ways. So often we do not encourage fathers to take on the mental or emotional load of childrearing, praising men for even a modicum of effort, these gendered expectations resulting in exhausted mothers and disconnected fathers.
Yet biblical fatherhood calls men to the same daily discipleship Jesus modelled: washing feet, feeding others, and being present in the ordinary. We should promote the image of a father as being a disciple of Jesus with his children, engaging in the daily rhythms of life and knowing his children like God knows and numbers “the very hairs of your head” (Luke 12:7).
Coming back to that Gospel Coalition article I mentioned at the start, watching my brother be a father has shown me how fatherly love can overflow into a man’s friendships. Following our father’s example, he has embraced fatherhood with generosity and joy. Each year, he and his best friends go on an annual camping trip. And as they are all dads, they take their kids with them. Over long weekends, they fish, hike, roast marshmallows, and build friendship while also fathering. The mothers rest while the fathers’ friendships are strengthened, all the while the children flourish through their own friendships, watching their fathers be intentional in both their fellowship and their fathering. These trips are a lived expression of what Richard Rohr describes as generativity, giving life and freedom to others, and one of the true marks of spiritual maturity in fatherhood. Such moments reveal that fatherhood is not a season to be endured or compartmentalised, but a calling to weave love, joy, and friendship into the fabric of daily life.
You see, the best fathers are undoubtedly those who give of themselves, just as our Heavenly Father does. Biblical fatherhood is expansive, embodied in self-giving and rooted in the chesed, the steadfast love, of God the Father. In my family, I see the continuum of fatherhood: the love of my brother, following the path shaped by my father, points me toward the Father who knows us, loves us, and never abandons us. As Miroslav Volf reminds us, “Every word and every deed, every thought and every gesture, even the simple act of paying attention can be a gift and therefore an echo of God’s life in us.” This is what it means to make visible the love of the invisible God. My dad lived this every day, in presence, advocacy, and selfless love; and for that I am profoundly grateful.
Thank you, Dad, for showing me and my children what it looks like to be known, cherished, and loved by the Father.
Rachel Wilson has been a member of the St Mark’s Anglican Church Darling Point Choir for 30 years, where she is on Parish Council and also preaches occasionally. She is a Christian Studies, English and Music teacher and serves on the board of The Abigail Project. She is mum to two teenagers, Katherine and Andrew, and one beautiful puppy, Charlie.
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