Brenda and I were watching a movie. The theme of the movie was pretty intense. It was not so much as entertaining as it was informative and inspiring. In one surprise part of the movie a fatherless son discovers who is dad is. He already had a friendly relationship with this man and had known him for years. He was driving to meet his new found father for the first time as his father. Both father and son were embracing a new reality.
Before he even knocked on the door his father saw him coming. The father threw the door opened and said two words I have never heard spoken to me. Those two little words, five letters in total, shot through me like a piercing knife opening a wound. All the father said was, "My son!"
No man has ever said those words to me. To this day I have no idea who my earthly father was. The man I was told was my father was murdered after a life of debauchery. Turns out he was not my father after all. That remains an unsolved mystery that I have buried and left behind. A man, whom I was told was my father, I cannot even recall what he looked like. I certainly have no memories of his love or wise counsel. I grew up fatherless like so many other people in society. It wounded me. It limited me. It impacts me to this day.
When that father said, "My son," in the movie tears welled up. It sunk in that I had never heard those words spoken to me even once. A flood of memories resurfaced of little league try outs without my father there while all the other little boys had their fathers present rooting them to success. I never had a father to talk to during the tough times. To love me through failures and disappointments. No father ever told me he loved me. No father taught me to hunt, fish, work on things around the house, play ball or countless other things fathers teach their sons.
It made me grow up angry. A fighter trying to prove that I belonged and could cut in on the athletic field. Truth is insecurity dominated me most of my formative years. Well into college and adulthood. I felt like I had to perform to prove I fit in. My self-worth was caught up in how successful I was in ministry. Therefore my mood rose and fall depending on the Sunday attendance. Needless to say there were some very low Monday mornings.
Then God revealed something that changed my life. He is a Father to the fatherless. A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows is God in His holy habitation. [Ps 68:5]
God has been just as real a Father to me as any earthly father could have ever been. He has given me counsel in confusing times. He has comforted me in sorrows. He has encouraged me in failures. He has provided for my family in innumerable times of need. He has shown me favor and opened doors. He has chastised me when I rebelled. More than anything else He has loved me. I belong to Him. I am a part of His family. I have a seat at His table. I cannot put into words what that has meant to me.
He calls me, "My son," through His Spirit. I am adopted and brought into His fold. He is a better Father to me than any earthly father could ever have been. He has taught and continues to teach me to be a father to my four sons. They are grown up now. I find they still need me. I still delight in being there for them. I still delight in telling them I love them. I need to break this off now. I want to communicate my love to my sons. I never want them to ever feel the way I did for a good portion of my life. My sons.
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