On Father’s Day and Being Fatherless
It has taken many years for me to understand just how deep fatherhood is. At age 41, I am just beginning to scratch that surface with five of my own children.
Philosopher John Locke was famous for saying that, “The mind is a blank slate, on which, experience writes.” I am certainly not a PhD, nor do I espouse much of Locke’s worldview. However, I will agree that the experiences I had with my father left indelible imprints on my own slate. Thankfully, most of my experiences were positive; almost all were constructive.
When I was a child, it might have been difficult for me to say exactly what my father was to me. I might have said something like, “Dad takes care of our family,” or, “Dad makes sure that I behave.” I would have been right. Whatever the case, I just knew that he was supposed to be there, and he was. I thought that he loved me, and he did. I believed that he would have given his life for our family, and he would have.
But there was more to his fatherhood than even those things. He gave me something to live up to; expectations, not pressure. My dad taught me that there was a way to behave in treating people with respect. My father had a disdain for laziness, and he would not tolerate dishonesty. And I wanted to please him.
Sometimes the lessons he taught me were tough, but did not involve “the rod of discipline.” One day I had been out riding my bike with a friend. We were miles away from our house, when my friend and I stopped at a convenience store to get a soda. The guy behind the counter gave me too much change. I knew it, but I put the money in my pocket and rode home. Dad overheard me bragging that I had picked up some extra money along the way. Very clearly, he told me to get back on my bike, ride back to that store and return the extra change. I had ridden a lot that day, and I was exhausted. Somehow, I ended up in his car instead. The only conversation was me telling him where the store was. I went in and returned the money to the same guy behind the counter. I never forgot that lesson, and it has served me well from that point forward.
There were other times when dad would load me into the car to face someone I had wronged. He never let things like that slide. I would face the offended person and make restitution, which was usually just an apology. To this day, I do not care for confrontation. However, I can and will act when I know confrontation is needed.
What my dad ultimately gave me was an example for the Christian faith. I followed Christ at an early age. But it was my father who would teach me the way, and not with a litany of “thou shalt and thou shalt nots.” He was like a set of bumpers at the bowling alley. I was free to bowl, but he was there to make certain that I did not end up rolling into the gutter. I am so glad that he led me to the One who is “closer than a brother.” God is the one I call “Father.” God is more than enough.
This is my fourth Father’s Day without my dad. He went to heaven after a massive stroke he suffered during an outpatient procedure. There are times when I would like to ask him questions about life, or just engage in conversation with the older and wiser person that he was. But as I continue in my walk with God, I am understanding more of the Father that He is.
The deeper effect of dad’s influence in my life is the unshakeable feeling I have that things should be a certain way. Call it justice. For example, I cannot accept that there are orphans (more than we know) who do not have access to anything with which I was raised. No love, no security in relationships, no examples worth following…no hope. I cannot reconcile that there are countless people who live to exploit children in unspeakable ways, knowing that they cannot defend themselves and have nobody to defend them. Isaiah 1:17 says, “Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice TO the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause (emphasis mine).” When I read that, I say, “YES! That is what I should do.” By the grace of God, I will.
I am not responsible for the 147 million orphans in the world. God knows how many there are, just as He knows how many hairs are on my head. I am, however, responsible to reach out to those He has put in front of me. This truth is what drives me to board a plane on Friday for Ukraine. Six years ago, God put those orphans in front of me. By God’s grace, we will all know the same Father.
