I remember during the youthful (foolish, rebellious) days of college how, in those rare times of reflection, I wished I had a dad to smack me around and get my mind right. Had he been there, he likely wouldn't have done that. But I knew I was off track and I yearned for a strong hand. I could've used that kind of love.

Some of us modern believers seem to carry attitudes like the children of Israel, whose great and wonderful God set them free from the bondage of their enemies. When their celebrations subsided, their appreciation and wish to honor their Deliverer dissolved as well. They began to live life as their whims and fancies directed. They imagined that their almighty God who fought for them would be pleased with their happiness no matter how they expressed it.

Loving fathers are typically very patient. By and by, however, their delight in our freedom wanes when they see that we've taken it for license; that we may be employing their lavish benefits to achieve ends which bear little resemblance to their values.

Fathers love their children. Most all they do arises from their deepest hopes for our good. God's great generosity toward us is meant to fuel our abundance in all that makes for life and peace. His goodness is unsullied - utterly pure.