Devotions of an Orphan: John 1:1

In the beginning was the Word,

In order to understand who we are in relationship to God, I first must understand who the Word is, and what relationship he has with God. Who is this God anyway? What is he like? What is his character? How does he relate to others? Although I know God from other passages and from 19 years of being his own child, I want to ask the question, what do I know of God from this passage?

First, I see that God has been from the beginning. Perhaps your earthly parent has asked for your obedience, claiming the wisdom of years you haven’t even lived yet. But here, in the first line, we see something incomprehensible. The Word has been there from the beginning. No one else has seen the joys, heartaches, injustices, mercies, and beauty of our humanity with this kind of scope.

and the Word was with God,

Have you ever looked up into a clear fall sky? The blue is unfathomable. Many times as a child, I strained my eyes and mind to grasp its depth. This line strikes me in such a way. The Word was with God. What could that even look like? Yet, in all the puzzle, I see that God is accessible.

Imagine these verses to be slightly different. In the beginning was the Word. In the beginning was also God.

How utterly different a picture that is! We wouldn’t know if the Word and God were warring deities, or passive neighbors in a spectral realm. Instead, we see that the Word and God are with each other from the beginning. Even in our modern terminology, we might say that Sally is “with” Harry, meaning that they are in some kind of intentional relationship.

From the beginning, God is someone to know and be known by.

and the Word was God.

I’m a bit speechless at this. The concept of the Trinity -- three persons, yet one God -- is in a higher plane of understanding than we currently can reach, I think. The Word is God. With no other knowledge of the Trinity from other passages, I would be inclined to think that maybe the Word is referring to the spoken word of God; the word must not be an entity, but an act of God. All this I would believe, if it were not for the next line...

He was in the beginning with God.

He was with God. The Word is God, but not a creation or vocalization of God. As I know I will find out later in the book of John, the Word is Christ, the person of Jesus. Not only that, but I was created to “be conformed to the image of Christ.” (Romans 8:29)

If the Word is with God, and I am created to be molded into the image of the Word, then it must mean that I am created to be with God as well.

God has seen the fullness of humanity. Our idiotic mistakes, our deepest longings, our scared insecurities, and he still created us to be with him.

That is the most loving Father I could imagine.

Devotions of an Orphan in Need of the Father

The parent questions always get me.

“Oh, so do your parents still live in Tennessee?”

“What does your dad do?”

“You like cooking! Do you ever cook with your mom at Thanksgiving?

Rather than feeling an emotional reminder in those moments, I am simply up against a choice. Do I skim over the issue in some clever sidestep, perhaps subtly insert “he was a pastor,” or take the boldest questions in hand by dropping the quiet line “both my parents are deceased” and continuing my thought before the other person can uncomfortably insert an “I’m sorry”?

Each choice feels awkward. Do I walk a path of evasion - in the process, losing a piece of identity - or do I drop a bomb into casual conversation?

Evasion is the hardest route in many ways, because I have to wipe my entire history aside. A childhood story might lead to a question about the present-day wherebeings of my mother. The triumph of a college graduation inevitably leads to the statement “your parents must be so proud!” Then, I also wonder, does my lack of mention of my parents lead some to wonder if I was close to them at all?

The obvious solution might be to simply tell those you interact with often the truth. And I do. But the barrier still exists, because instead of ignorance, I get sad looks when I mention either of them. Is my life tainted forever by the confusion, embarrassment, and discomfort of others regarding my whole life up to present moment?

There a good many kind-hearted people who seem to think I need parenting. I actually have a lot of wonderful older siblings that give me solid advice and a husband that takes care of me and guides me. He and I are our own family now, and I don’t feel the need to make up for lost years of childhood.

The real need is identity. I want people to know how incredible both my parents were, because it has shaped my personhood so much. Of course, as a married woman, I am now also given identity through my husband, from a new last name to the fact that we like to play disc golf together. I am actively shaped and identified by and through him - and this is a great satisfaction of my life, and a source of endless comfort in this weary world.

Still, I come back to this sometimes desperate plea for identity. My plea for an “origin story.”

My flesh-and-blood parents will always be important to me, but my longing goes beyond that. It goes back to the need for unshakeable history, identity and belongingness.

I know I can only find this in the Father - real answers to how I ended up here, my sense of personhood, and my familial history. The only problem is, to be honest, I don’t know my Father as well as I need to. I need greater knowledge of him, and more relational closeness and trust.

As I heard in a sermon today, we are all spiritual orphans without adoption into the family of God.

So as one former orphan to another, I invite you to join my study of the Father as I carefully read through the gospel of John, discovering the relationship and identity that God freely gives us in His merciful goodness.

Note: I hope to post a short devotional exposition on a few verses of John each week, so keep an eye out for new posts if you are interested.