My wife recently showed me a meme that read, “Behind every spoiled daughter, there is a bald-headed father.” We laughed, as we glanced around the room at our five daughters (and also noticed my balding head). Humor often hides a deeper truth. The implication here being: whatever the daughter asks from daddy, she gets! That meme, meant to be lighthearted, sparked in me a reflection on the love of a father and the generous nature of God our Father, particularly in light of the readings for the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time.
In Genesis Chapter 18, Abraham speaks with humility and persistence. He pleads with God not to destroy Sodom if even a few righteous remain. “‘Please, let not my Lord grow angry if I speak up this last time. What if there are at least ten there?’ He replied, ‘For the sake of those ten, I will not destroy it'” (Gen. 18:32). Abraham’s posture is not one of demand, but of filial trust. He knows the One to whom he speaks. He dares to ask—not because he doubts God’s justice—but because he knows God’s mercy.
In the Gospel reading this weekend, Luke Chapter 11, Jesus teaches His disciples to pray by giving them the Our Father. Then He continues with an appeal to God’s generosity: “What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? . . . For everyone who asks, receives” (Lk. 11:11–13). Here, Jesus reveals something vital: God is not a distant Creator. He is Abba, Father. His giving is not transactional. It is affectionate and intimate.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms this identity of God as Father: “By calling God ‘Father,’ the language of faith indicates two main things: that God is the first origin of everything and transcendent authority; and that he is at the same time goodness and loving care for all his children” (CCC 239). But if God is Father, then we are His children, and children ask—freely, persistently, shamelessly. Some requests are silly, others desperate, some rooted in love, others in need, yet a loving father listens to them all.
St. Thérèse of Lisieux, known for her “little way,” once said: “Prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” Her childlike spirituality teaches us to go to the Father with confidence, trusting that even if our requests seem unimportant, He delights in hearing them.
Finally, during the responsorial this weekend, Psalm 138:3 reads, “Lord, on the day I called for your help, you answered me!” The psalmist does not wonder if God will hear; he knows it. This certainty flows not from arrogance but from intimacy. The Father never grows weary of our petitions.
Yet, how often do we hesitate to ask? We fear disappointment, or worse, that we are unworthy. But Jesus assures us: “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Mt. 6:8). The asking isn’t for Him—it’s for us. It opens our hearts, reminds us that we are not in control, and returns us to the truth that we are not orphans—we are sons and daughters.
Even when the answer is “no” or “not yet,” it is always an answer of love. St. Augustine said, “God does not delay to hear our prayers because He has no mind to give, but that by enlarging our desires, He may give us the more largely.”
In fatherhood, this reality hits close to home. As a dad, I don’t always say “yes” to every request. My children don’t always understand my reasons. But love—not stinginess—is always the motive. So it is with God.
When Jesus tells us to ask, seek, and knock, He is inviting us into a relationship of active trust. This is not the passivity of a beggar but the boldness of a beloved child. St. Teresa of Avila once wrote: “You pay God a compliment by asking great things of Him.”
And so, yes—I will continue to give to my children, even when it costs me sleep, hair, or peace and quiet. I will try to reflect, however imperfectly, on the generosity of our Heavenly Father. And I will not be ashamed of being a “bald-headed father” if it means my daughters know that their father’s heart is open to them.
May we all have that same confidence with God. Ask. Ask boldly. Ask frequently. Ask with joy. Let us cast aside fear, worry, and hesitation. Let us approach Him with the trust of children, and the joy of those who know they are loved. He knows every (fading) hair on our heads. (Lk. 12:7)
Photo by Chelsey Faucher on Unsplash
