A friend asked me today if Father’s Day was a hard day for me….”Yes”, I replied simply and with a nod of my head. But truthfully, even the days leading up to it are hard. I find myself thinking about my Dad, replaying in my mind old memories-some good and many bad…wondering where he is, or if he is even still alive.

My father chose to step away from my life many years ago. And I fought it. I tried hard to hang onto him because I thought that was what a good Christian girl did…”Honor thy father and mother.” My father needed saving, and my co-dependent self wanted to save him. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that my father is a very wounded man…and hurting people hurt people. I couldn’t allow myself to be hurt any longer. For my health and for my safety, I had to let him go.

The last time I saw my dad was almost four years ago. He showed up at my uncle’s workplace, after being absent for over 10 years. After a lot of deep breaths and prayer, I agreed to meet him. I can still see him in my mind and I remember how I felt when I saw him walking towards me. Had I seen this man on the street, I would not have recognized him…and I would have thought he was much older than I knew to be true. That’s what addiction does to you. 

He was homeless, he told me. Another failed marriage left him with a truck and a tent, which he used for a year in a Oklahoma state park. After he was told to leave, he went to various homeless shelters and rehab facilities. And he was kicked out of every one. 

At the risk of your judgment, I will tell you that I did not invite my father to stay with me. Warning bells were going off in my head and the man sitting in front of me was a stranger. A couple of painful phone calls later, he disappeared again. 

My counselor asked me one day how I picture Jesus, and how I picture God. I told her that I have no problem with Jesus-He is my Savior and my best friend. But God? I have a very hard time seeing God as my father. Because our earthly fathers are supposed to reflect and imitate God’s love…and mine didn’t. 

But I will tell you that God is showing me what a true Father’s heart looks like. The image of the harsh disciplinarian that will turn his back on me at any moment has been replaced with the image of a giant lap and giant hugs. God is a good Father. He loves deeply. And He cares enough to speak to my heart when I am teetering on the edge. Don’t get me wrong-I know God is fierce and I respect Him. I try to respect Him the way a daughter should respect her father. Obeying out of love instead of fear. Surrendering my will and what I want (which is daily by the way) because I know Father knows best. I could go on.

Psalms 68:5 tells us that God is a “Father to the fatherless.” This is what I want you to know. It’s true that my heart is pounding as I write all of this…because I feel like I’m baring my soul a bit. And whether your father chose to step away like mine did, or had wounds and addictions so great that he could love no one but himself, or if he left this earth too quickly…. I write to tell you that there is MORE. More love…greater love than even the best father on earth would be able to give. And He’s waiting for you…waiting to wrap you up in His arms of love. Waiting to whisper in your ear that everything will be ok. Waiting to tell you that He’s got you. 

So friend, I may not know you or your situation. But God does and I pray He meets you right where you are, right where you need Him to be. That he takes the wound of a missing father and replaces it with all that He has to give you. I have confidence that He will. Because He did it for me.