The Love of Daddy

Those four words in the title can stir up all kinds of emotions. Some people were blessed with a dad—biological or adoptive—who leaned in, paid attention, and loved through affection, counsel, and presence. Not in a preachy way, but as a way of life. A dad who helped shape you into the person God designed you to be, not who he demanded you to become. No earthly dad is perfect—only our Heavenly One is—but the desired father is one who walks in humility, chasing after holiness and Christlikeness.

Humility is one of those upside-down words Jesus uses to flip the world’s values on their head. It makes or breaks a man (or woman). You could say humility is simply a right understanding of yourself that flows from a right understanding of who God is. Without that, pride takes over. And pride—well, pride is the Enemy’s favorite tool.

And so, sin enters the scene and our Heavenly Daddy goes to work. From that point on, earthly fathers fail. Since Adam and Eve didn’t have children before the Fall, there has never been a perfect human dad. Every dad has lacked humility in some form or fashion. The good news is that God works in our lives and begins to reform and refashion us to become more like Himself. That is one of the amazing things I love about our Heavenly Daddy: He desires to love us, show us affection, and offer strength and compassion for whatever we go through on earth. I am wanting us to not necessarily look at the fact that He does this, rather I want us to meditate on His heart and His longing to bless us.

My Dad, My Story

My mom was married to my biological father for 32 years. He went to church, and I believe he loved Jesus in his own way. But I can’t help but suspect that the wounds left by his own father carved deep ruts in his soul. To survive, he clothed himself in pride and wore arrogance like armor. Apology never passed his lips. He carried himself as though being right was the only way to keep from falling apart. Meanwhile, he lived a secret life of infidelity spanning 20 years—from when I was around seven until my late twenties, when he left my mom for his latest girlfriend.

To state the obvious, he was blazing his own trail, leaving his own devastating father wounds behind. Complete destruction of the family unit.

I will state that my sisters experienced him differently from myself throughout the different seasons of his life. However, a significant part of his legacy was the lack of fathering and attentiveness in the younger years due to the emotional expense of covering his adulterous life. I can’t imagine how wearisome it was to make sure he was covering his trail for two decades, always having to look over his shoulder. This biological dad of mine left no track record of repairing ruptures in my life. The policy was to keep a good broom handy, because there was a lot of dirt to sweep under the rug. No apologies, only regret.

Pride and Resolution

Pride stands in the way of resolution. I remember a time when my boys were three years old and younger. Offering my vulnerability, I approached my biological father and invited him into a conversation about how his actions had harmed me and that I was still working through it. His response was one of anger and incredulity. He yelled and shamed me, saying that what he did had nothing to do with me and therefore should not affect me.  (To this day, I shake my head in bewilderment of such ignorance).

Every visit after that conversation, I could see him hold tight to that proverbial broom—ready to either swing or sweep at any threat of honesty and authenticity. My biological father died about eleven years later, and any hope of resolution died with him. To be honest, it has been easier for me since his death. The pain of having an earthly father who did not father—but only on his own terms—was more painful than the cessation of life.

I know I’m speaking plainly—perhaps even boldly—but I do so because I believe many
will see pieces of their own story in mine.

I never doubted that he loved me. But love, when mingled with pride, with a calloused heart and a conscience that is seared, loses its power to nourish.

It cannot bear good fruit.

And yet, even this has become part of his legacy to me:

He stirred in me a fire—
a longing to live with honesty,
to be present and faithful in each fleeting moment,
to stand unmasked before the living God.
I do not do it perfectly, but I live for it like I live for my next breath.

And perhaps most sacred of all,
his absence turned my face toward my Father—
my true Daddy—
and there, in that turning,
I began to be fathered.

My Daddy, in His mercy,
has taken the wounds left by my earthly father’s sin
and, with gentle hands,
has transformed them into goodness.

From that pain,
He has drawn forth two priceless gifts—
blessings that now ripple outward
into the lives of my wife and children.

This is what our God—our Daddy—does:
in the midst of evil,
in the face of injustice,
in a world cracked and broken,
He brings redemption.
He turns ashes into beauty,
and sorrow into legacy.

And all of this—
this intimate, personal redemption—
is but a small glimpse
of what He will one day do
on a cosmic and eternal scale.

I wish I was a better father myself. My boys deserve so much more. But from very early on, I told them in a sly way, “You know you have a perfect Daddy… and it is not me. I love you more than you will possibly ever comprehend. You are always in my thoughts and prayers throughout the day. But your Daddy in heaven is perfect in His love for you.” I always want my boys to see my love, devotion, faithfulness, and integrity—but I want them to see the difference between me and their perfect Daddy.

My Mom’s Journey

My mom was single for approximately 11 or 12 years after my biological father left. Those early days were so very heart-wrenching. I cannot begin to speak on her experience of life and all the challenges of living alone. But then some friends kept urging her to go online to try and find someone, and so she did—with great hesitation.

Before long, a fellow from the hills of Tennessee swept her off her feet. He was a colorful character, but he treated her well, provided for her, and they had some fun times together. Unfortunately, that lasted about seven years, and his days came to an end with a brain bleed. My mother found herself alone again in her 70’s with very little to live on. She gracefully entered back into a life of solitude and independence. My sister and brother-in-law graciously built a small suite on the back of their porch where she could take refuge in.

Full Circle with the Wrights

The Wright family has been part of my story for as long as I can remember. My dad and Bob Wright were police officers together when I was born. Our families stayed connected through the decades, catching up every year or two.

And then, a few months ago, something shifted. Bob—now a widower—began talking with my mom. One meal led to another, weekends of conversation followed, and fellowship grew into something deeper.

Bob is not perfect. But Bob loves Jesus. He lives with integrity. He pursues holy living in the everyday, moment by moment. That, to me, is humility in action—a right view of self, rooted in a right view of God.

Last night, I had the honor of officiating their wedding. Bob is the man I trust to lead, love, and protect my mom—in the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual dimensions of life.

Back to the Heart of the Father

My mom would be the first to say that life took way too many turns in wrong directions. That is very true. It did. But to return to the “heart” of our Daddy, He desires for us to know Him truly. The deepest desire of His heart…is our heart. Everything else is secondary. He is a sovereign God, and for now there is another ruler of this world.

A ruler of brokenness, deceit, violent trauma, and injustice. He is the ruler of discontent through lust, greed, and envy. He is the ruler of self-centeredness, self-preservation and self-entitlement.

Man is he ugly.

Such a contrast to a God of patience who desires all to come to Him and truly know His heart.

There is no reason why God had to provide Bob for my mom and mom for Bob. They are in their late 70’s, and I know that my mom had in her mind that she was done with marriage and would live the rest of her days as a widow. She was content with that, so much so that there was a bit of resistance initially with Bob.

Mom had to pause and ask herself; “Can this be Daddy? Is this what You want? You want me to have this gift, this measure of grace?

It is amazing grace—but it comes from the Love of Daddy Who has an amazing heart.