Redeeming “Father”

Father’s Day is just around the corner, and as it does every year, it invokes a plethora of emotions for me. It’s a day to honour and celebrate fathers – men, who aren’t perfect, but have been present and invested in their children’s lives. Unfortunately, for some of us, that hasn’t been our experience. For some, the very mention of the word “father” conjures feelings of grief, anger, or pain. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you had a cruel or abusive father, or maybe he was simply absent or unavailable in one way or another. Regardless of the reason, if the marking of this day is a painful one for you, you’re not alone.

I haven’t seen my father in 10 years. I try to stay connected with phone calls, letters, and even invites to join our family vacations, but we aren’t close. He’s called me less than a handful of times in that many years, so, it was a surprise when his number showed up on my call display a few months ago. For a moment, my heart hoped that maybe this was the start of something, but hope faded just as quickly. He needed something and I was the one who could help. We talked several times over the next few days and I tried to be compassionate and supportive, all the while inside of me the pain of a wound that I’ve spent years trying to heal flared to life again. “I’m here for you,” I wanted to say, “but why haven’t you been there for me? You’re supposed to be the parent!”

I know he loves me, in his own way, and I love him too, but I still grieve the relationship that never was and will likely never be. Even though he was often distant and unavailable, and prone to a quick and violent temper for much of my childhood, there were good times too. Since reconnecting, after being out of touch for years following my parent’s divorce, I have learned to forgive. Learned to see my father with more compassion, now that I have a better understanding of his own tumultuous upbringing. I never wanted perfect. I just wanted a father that cared about me and knew how to show it. And up until my parents divorced when I was 11, I didn’t actually know what that was supposed to look like. Enter my step-father.

My step-father was everything that my own father was not: caring, attentive, affectionate, fun, gentle, engaging, easy to talk to, doting even. My sister and I thought we had won the “father lottery”. It didn’t matter to us that he had a very checkered past, which he’d shared with tears and expressions of deep remorse. What mattered was that his attention and care filled up a very deep void. But it was all an act. The long-game con of a cunning predator. I didn’t realize what it was costing me as he slowly and surreptitiously stripped away my freedom, my voice, my power of choice, my community, my confidence, and eventually, my identity. Until one day, all that we had left was him. Or so he thought.

But, God…

I still had Jesus. Was literally clinging to Him for dear life after the death of my mother. And He was at work even when I couldn’t see it. When I was finally “released” into the world and left home at 19 to attend a discipleship program (Master’s Commission) in another province, I had no idea who I was, how to make decisions for myself, or even how to form my own opinions. Master’s Commission was a God-send and the space and freedom it brought, while still being very regulated and “safe”, was exactly what I needed to begin to see the world through a new lens. I started exploring who God was and who He made me to be. Began understanding my identity and value in Christ. After 2 years, a strong foundation had been laid.

And then my world crashed. Our lives were turned upside down when my sister and I discovered the magnitude of the mind games and the lies we’d been led to believe, and the depth of the abuse and depravity heaped on us by my step-father came to light. I was rocked, and if not for the foundation of relationship with Jesus, and the support of my new community, I would have completely crumbled.

But, God…

The long road to healing and wholeness has had many layers, twists, setbacks, and roadblocks, and it is ongoing. The way slowly becoming easier with each brave step. Years of counselling, introspection, prayer, and heart work meant that I was making progress. I was growing in my faith too, except in one major area – relating to God as Father. But, God…

I’ve heard the question asked, “Why should we call God, Father? Can’t we have a relationship with God and just not see Him in that role?” To answer that, I think we need to have a deeper understanding of God’s nature and character. The fact that we ask the question indicates that we don’t actually know Who He is. Sometimes we’re blind to the things right in front of us when they don’t fit our preconceived ideas.

In John 14, Philip, one of Jesus’ disciples asked a similar question, “Lord, show us the Father.” They wanted to know what the Father was like. The disciples had spent years with Jesus and still didn’t have a clue! Jesus’ reply was basically “What do you mean? Look at Me! If you’ve seen Me, you’ve already seen my Father!” He had spent every moment with them literally embodying and revealing the Father to them, but they were too blind to see it.

God called Himself “Father” because He wanted to set the standard for what a good father looks like.

Loving, compassionate, trustworthy, faithful, and someone who instills confidence, and gives correction, guidance, and reassurance. Someone to lean on and confide in. Someone who protects and shelters, but is also there to nudge us to put on our brave and step into the scary unknown. Someone Who inscribed our names on His heart. Someone who is Home. But when we think of “father”, many of us don’t have that kind of experience to draw from. So, instead, we equate God with our own earthly fathers – or the men who have filled that role or positions of authority in our lives – and we view God through a lens coloured by our own experiences.

Perhaps the question we should be asking is, “Have I allowed my experiences with my earthly father to colour my view of God as Heavenly Father?” And if the answer is yes, then our prayer should be, “Lord, open my eyes to see.” God wants to redeem the title of “father” for us! He longs for His children to know Him. That’s why He sent Emmanuel, God with us, so that we could see Who He is and how much He loves us.

6 years ago, my view of “father” changed. I was lying in bed, curled in a ball and rocking with grief over the miscarriage of my son, Tayten Shalom. I was shattered. The “whys” of it all pounded like thunder in my head. I didn’t know if I even wanted to keep living. Didn’t know how I was going to get out of bed or how to be there for my husband and 2 little boys. I felt completely bereft. And yet, God chose that moment to meet me and show me that in the midst of all that pain, He was the Father I was longing for. A Father, who cared deeply for me. Who grieved with me. Who felt my pain with me, and opened His arms wide to comfort me. Parakaleo. He called me near and my life was changed forever.

Don’t ask me how it happened, though I have tried to explain it in a previous post. I’m not entirely sure that it can be fully understood. It was as though my eyes were opened for the first time and God gave me a glimpse into His heart. A revelation of Who He was as Abba and it revolutionized my life. I can tell you this. He is a good, good Father. And He wants you to know that Truth too. He’s waiting to reveal His heart to you too. All you have to do is ask. He will meet you where you are, and friend, when you truly “see” Him, you won’t ever be the same again.

So, as you approach this Father’s Day, I pray that instead of grief, you have a revelation of your Good Father. That He wraps your wounded heart in His and whispers Truth. And that “Father” is a term that He redeems for you. As you go, may the prayer of the Apostle Paul go with you:

“May you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep His love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully.” Eph. 3:18-19

Shalom, friends. Until next time.