"The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”
-Zephaniah 3:17
Do you ever stare at a blank page and just feel empty of words? That’s how I feel when it comes to writing about Father’s Day.
Father’s Day is a special day. It is the one day of the
year we set aside to honor the men in our lives who have been our rocks through
the hard days, and our dear friends to laugh with on the good ones. Fathers,
husbands, grandfathers, uncles…they all matter, and Father’s Day gives us an
opportunity to show them they do.
But there are those fathers, husbands, grandfathers, and
uncles who don’t deserve to be honored. Some of my closet mentors were physically
and/or emotionally abused by their husbands. One of my classmate’s grandfathers
was a harsh and selfish man who verbally abused those closest to him. So many
friends of mine have emotionally abusive or absent fathers.
So, Father’s Day doesn’t always foster warm feelings.
I called my father today to wish him a “Happy Father’s
Day.” It turned into a ten-minute therapy fest for my dad as he shared how hurt
he was that I couldn’t physically spend time with him on Father’s Day. I was
selfish in not wanting to spend a lengthy amount of time with a dysfunctional
man who uses Scripture to tear me down and remind me of how I fail as a
daughter, emotionally abuses my mother and sister, and fails to recognize, let
alone repent, of his sins toward his family.
My dad wants a family that never existed. He wants a happy
family that loves their daddy because he provided for them, loved them, and put
their needs before his own. He wants a daughter that looks into her father’s eyes
with admiration because she knows he is her hero. He wants to be loved as the
father he never was.
I had to hang up the phone as his frustration escalated.
Tears began to form in my eyes as I realized yet again that my father does not
change. He still walks in a fairy tale land that I refuse to enter. I was okay
with it when I was a little girl because I didn’t have an option. It was better
to accept what wasn’t there than to address the problems our family faced day
in and day out. I was too little to do anything. I was too entangled in the web
of my dysfunctional home to even know how to break free. I didn’t even know my
Heavenly Father enough to trust that it was okay to release control of trying to
fix my dad.
Since my freshman summer, God has taken me on an
incredible but hard journey to discover what a father is supposed to look like
by showing me Himself. God became my provider, my best friend, my source of
wisdom, and even my second-half on spontaneous father and daughter dates, whether
it be a walk outside or a sacred dance session just worshipping and expressing
my heart in a racket ball court. God became my daddy. God is my daddy.
It still hurts when my earthly dad pulls out one of
his emotionally charged arrows and hits me where he knows I am weakest. I still
have not numbed to the longing of having a loving earthly dad. The tears come
freely when I hear a dad express his love for his daughter. Sometimes, whenever
I think about getting married, I cringe at the thought of having my dad walk me
down the aisle. I don’t even really want him to come to my college graduation. My dad’s
love has so many strings attached that I just don’t have the bandwidth to navigate
through the loopholes. I don’t think it’s healthy for me either.
So, I pray and will continue to pray that God would
give me a heart for my dad, but one that does not allow words of death to take
up residence. I also pray and will pray that God continues to show me that I am
His beloved and precious daughter and that He sings over me daily and delights
in my presence.
Oh, Father, may I never forget that precious truth.
