After a couple of days of sight-seeing, we are back in the kitchen this evening for:
Get ready to dive into the magical world of Pâte à Choux (that’s “pot-a-shoo” for those of us who don’t speak French fluently)! We’re about to whip up a dough so versatile it could be a number different treats. And guess what? We’ll turn this dough into the delightful duo of crullers and churros. Buckle up; this is going to be a delicious ride! 🍩✨
Food for Thought
Isn’t it incredible how the most intimate name, "Abba," was first spoken during Jesus' darkest hour? Romans 8:15 reminds us, "For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, 'Abba, Father.'"
I had to let that sink in for a few minutes. I’ve received the spirit of adoption, not a spirit of fear. Just thinking about that one word that flows from the hearts of the adopted—Abba.
Before diving into Paul’s perspective on this name, let’s look at when it was first uttered. It’s the night in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus had just shared his last supper with his disciples, fully aware of the trials that awaited him—arrest, trial, the cross. He steps deeper into the garden, alone, and falls to the ground, overwhelmed with sorrow. In that gut-wrenching moment, the Son of God calls out one word: Abba.
This Aramaic term, a warm and familial expression for father—similar to “papa” or “dear father”—appears just three times in the New Testament: Mark 14:36 in Gethsemane, Romans 8:15 about our adoption, and Galatians 4:6 where the Spirit cries out within us. It’s spoken twice by two remarkable figures: Jesus and Paul.
What does Paul have to say about it in Romans 8. The same word Jesus cried out in his most desperate moment is the word the Holy Spirit places on our lips as adopted children of the same loving Father.
The term “father” can evoke a range of feelings. For me, it brings warmth, safety, and memories of someone who was always there, making me feel truly known. For others, it may stir up pain—a father who was absent, cold, or impossible to please. That absence can shape our understanding of God in profound ways.
If your experience with your earthly father was one of absence or disappointment, the word "Abba" might feel like a challenge to embrace. After all, how we view our earthly fathers can influence our perception of our Heavenly Father. If "father" means someone who walks away, we might expect God to do the same. If it’s tied to disappointment, we may approach God braced for letdowns.
But remember, Jesus chose to use this intimate name not in a moment of comfort or answered prayers, but in the heart of despair, on the ground in a garden, just before everything changed. He didn’t call upon El Elyon, the Most High, or El Shaddai, the Almighty. He reached for the most personal name he knew—Abba. This is a reminder that regardless of our earthly experiences, our Heavenly Father is different. He doesn’t abandon us in tough times. He doesn’t pull away when we stumble. He doesn’t keep score of our struggles. He is the Father you’ve always longed for, waiting for you to call Him that.
God didn’t give us a name to refer to Him because He needed it; He gave us a name because we needed it. No matter what your history with the word "father" looks like, "Abba" is the name of the One who chose you, who calls you His own, who treats you like family. He placed this beautiful word on your lips, the same one Jesus used in His darkest hour, reminding you that you are never without a father.
You are never alone, and your life is cradled in the hands of the One who knows you inside out, protects you fiercely, and loves you fiercely. You are precious as His beloved child.
