Father, today I am Your Son again

This morning while I was meditating, I had a new thought. It really shouldn’t have been new, but it was (at least as far as I can recall). It followed on the heels of the lesson I practiced yesterday: “God is real, and I am His beloved Son in whom He is well pleased.” I love that line (adapted from the Text) and have used it many times. I like how first it reminds you that there really is a God, and then it makes this huge claim: I am His beloved Son in whom He is well pleased. Thus, there really is a God, and I really am His beloved Son. Doing this lesson, in turn, was inspired by a line I’ve adapted from the end of the Workbook. The line is God saying to me, “You are My Son, and all I have is yours.”

Anyway, the thought I had during my meditation, while I called on God by repeating “Father,” was “I really am God’s Son.” What that meant was that all the things we associate with father/son relationships apply to me and God. First, I have this prior, thicker-than-water, no-matter-what-happens bond with God. In any decent father-son relationship, all the normal stuff of life is secondary to that one fact that the two of us are father and son. The “stuff” comes and goes, but that one foundational fact remains. It is the basis for a commitment that remains forever unquestioned. To think that that commitment has always existed between me and God—well, that’s quite a thought.

Second, that fact (that I am God’s Son) defines both of us. It defines our identity. God’s Identity is that He’s my Father. That’s who He is. My identity is that I am God’s Son. That’s who I am. The ways that I define myself, then, are really beside the point. I may be assuming the roles of family man, teacher, spiritual student, etc., but they are like that stuff that comes and goes, leaving unchanged the one fundamental fact—that I am God’s Son.

Along with this sense of being God’s Son came a kind of “prodigal son” feeling. It was like, “Oh, if this relationship, this bond, defines me, if this is who I am, then I have really lost touch with who I am.” It brought to mind immediately that familiar pattern of a son who has left the family and lost touch with his identity as son to that father. He’s gone off, wandering aimlessly from thing to thing, and has forgotten who he is.

It’s funny, I’ve called God “Father” probably millions of times, without really taking in what that implies about who I am. The implications are huge, beyond human ability to comprehend. If we really are His Son, then that is the one big Fact, much bigger, I think, than all the metaphysical stuff we normally talk about. It’s way bigger than the world being an illusion—indeed, it’s why the world is an illusion. It’s infinitely bigger than reincarnation. Forget about Atlantis.

Now I suspect that many of us find it hard to relate to this, either because our earthly father wasn’t so great, or because it’s hard to imagine being a son when you’re female. I guess what I would encourage you to do is to try to detach from the specifics and just connect with the general idea. The Course isn’t saying that we are all secretly male. Or that God is like our earthly dad. It’s just using this powerful earthly metaphor that has been stitched into all of our bones as a way of helping us feel the fact that we are not disconnected from God, but rather have a connection with Him that is deeper and older than the foundations of this world.