Who’s Your Abba?
When I find myself reminiscing about summer memories, I often think of the summer we went to family camp. We met a couple who brought eleven of their twelve children to camp. And that wasn’t the only exceptional thing about this family. The thing that made the biggest impression on me was the crazy nicknames this dad gave his kids.
I’m always acutely aware of different fathering styles, and I have a thing about names. This guy was a great dad, but the nickname thing was puzzling to me at first. He used their nicknames at least three times as often as you would normally say someone’s name in the course of conversation.
These kids had classy names, and here he was, calling them nicknames like “Puppy,” “Life-fish,” and “Little Mom.” He never had to raise his voice, and his kids responded quickly and respectfully when he called them.
Gradually, I developed a theory about what might be going on. I learned that each of the kids’ nicknames was based on a shared experience with their dad. By using the name so frequently, he taught his kids to respond to the nickname as readily as they would to their given name, if not more so.
Essentially he was teaching them, “What I think of you is more important than what anyone else thinks of you, because I know you in a way that no one else knows you.” Every time his kids heard their nicknames, they knew they weren’t just loved, but known by a father who had taken time to experience each of them as an individual. In a family of any size, that’s a big deal.
I’m not sure how much, if any, of this was intentional. Some people are naturally gifted parents, and do this kind of thing without even having to think about it. The point is, we all look to other people to show us who we are. Sometimes they show and tell us the truth, and sometimes their words are misleading and damaging.
My favorite translation for the Hebrew word “Abba,” usually translated “daddy,” or “father,” is “source.” I love this visual because, from a Hebrew perspective, who you are flows out of who your father is, the way a river flows from its source. During trips to Israel, I’ve watched my dad introduce himself in his small Galilean town as my grandfather’s son. Even though my grandfather has been dead for thirty years, he was esteemed so highly in their community that being his son still means a great deal.
So my question to you is, who’s your Abba? We all have people who function as a “source” for us. We say to them, consciously or unconsciously, “What you think of me is more important than what anybody else thinks of me.” We allow these people to “name” us, in the sense that we give them a role in shaping our identity. Some build us up, and some cause terrible harm.
You probably know people who looked to a father figure or source and were called “stupid,” “disappointing,” and “mistake.” One person I looked to called me “an embarrassment.” Another called me “monster,” and “crazy.” I can’t go back and erase the damage those words caused.
I’ve learned that there was beauty for me, even in the most hurtful names I was called. It took years of healing to be able to separate the lies from the truth. In many cases, it was more like turning the lie inside out, discovering that the truth was almost the opposite. The lie was a gift in the end; it acted like a smoke signal I could follow until I reached the truth.
Going forward, though, I’m much more selective about who gets to “name” me, and whose opinion gets to matter. Because when there’s poison at the source, everything downstream gets contaminated to some extent. If you had a source that was pure and true, how would your life be different?
You have an Abba who knows you like no one else. Your Abba wants how he sees you to matter more than how anyone else sees you, because he knows you like no one else knows you. He wants your identity to flow out of who he is.
- Who has functioned as a “source” in your life?
- What “names” did you receive from those people?
- How have you been shaped by them?
- How has God been a source for you?
- In what new way would you like to experience him as a source?
is an Israeli who’s at home in France, Italy, and Minnesota. A homemaker who had it all, gave it all away, and lived out of a backpack. She loves one man, 5 kids, and the crazy story God is writing in their lives even more than palm trees, ancient ruins, and deepest dark chocolate. She writes, coaches, speaks, sings, and creates her guts out at hannahkallio.org.
Photograph © Darius Bashar, used with permission
