I write this on Father’s Day. Yet, I’m thinking of some daughters I know. One worked to forgive her father for his verbal, physical abuse, and alcoholism which contributed also to his neglect of her. She even helped him to pass away in peace. Another is at 20 years of age working to maintain contact with boundaries from another unhealthy father. And another is the only one aiding in the gradual passing of a father woefully lacking other relationships because of his cruelty. Each of these women has had to forgive so much in order to honor their fathers, an undeserved honor.
However, this life is only about just deserts insofar as there is a heavenly Father. If we only exist by luck, or lack thereof perhaps, then there is no “ought” in life but what we contrive. Our parents’ coming through for us or devastating us is simply an evolutionary tweak or burp, nothing more. Our feelings are simply biochemical responses--some we label as pleasure; some we label as painful. Really, any meaning beyond that is contrivance. It’s strange to me how such an impersonal force can feel so personal, however. The wounds of fatherly neglect or fatherly abuse runner deeper than our existential contrivances, don’t they? For wholeness to ensue, we must see them as deeper and more personal than contrivance, whether we believe in God or not.
While I cannot speak for the above three women, although I know all of them are Christians, my relationship with God was integral to my coming to peace with my dad. And I’m so thankful to have made peace with him before he passed.
My dad was quite aloof during my growing up years. The term “phantom father” is an apt one. He was there, but he was not. He didn’t take an interest in my life. Attending events or any sort of conversation were not priority. I developed a hatred for him but blamed myself. He never did anything wrong, so how could I hate him?
Years later, one of my philosophy and theology professors gently challenged me. I had something to forgive. I was not to blame. My dad didn’t do anything wrong because he didn’t do anything. Maybe he didn’t have sins of commission, but he had sins of omission. I had, like every child does, an interior construct of how a father should be, and he didn’t fulfill it. And where do such constructs come from? The existence of God validates those constructs of loving, accepting, engaged, sacrificing parents. As a result, our hurts are justified when our parents fall short.
As I realized I did indeed have something to forgive my dad for, I began recognizing where I was receiving fatherly love--professors, pastors, friends’ parents. I also begin to trust more deeply in the love of God as father. Gradually, this freed me from my bitterness enough to see my dad as another fallen being, also in need of grace and love. He was deeply wounded by losses growing up and was functionally depressed during my childhood and teen years. My pain was real, but so was his. God loved us both, sacrificed for us both, forgave us both. When my dad was gradually passing away from the effects of a stroke, the fact I could tell him I loved him and mean it was huge for me.
Of course my happy-ending story should not be seen as a prototype for others to follow. Many are wounded far more deeply than I ever was. The cross is reminder that God knows the personal pain of the wounds we received. The sins of others against us is costly. It cost him his life. Jesus Christ did not just die for my sins. He died for the sins committed against me as well. And if Christ chose to suffer their just deserts in their place, who am I to dare say that is not enough?
Our brokenness is real, not an evolutionary contrivance, nor an illusion. And the sanity of forgiveness and grace is real, also not an evolutionary contrivance. Unless one is committed to biochemically shrink-wrapping the dimensions of existence.
I know for many Father’s Day is a painful one. Grief continues. Estrangement continues. Justifications continue. I certainly won’t pretend moving down a path of healing, forgiveness, and potential reconciliation is easy. However, I do know bitterness and unforgiveness only victimizes us further, and keeps us small, which is tempting because then nothing much can be expected of us. We don’t have to explore avenues of our own fallenness as long as we keep the spotlight on our fathers’ sins, or anyone elses for that matter.
Maybe it’s time to pray, even if you don’t believe it will work. Maybe it’s time to ask God’s help in forgiving a parental wound, in healing it. Who knows? Maybe by next Father’s Day, you will have greater peace with your heavenly Father and will have traveled farther down a path of wholeness. Do you really have much to lose?
The attached song I found quite healing. Yes, it’s from the ‘80s as is readily apparent, yet its truths remain.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-5Z2YXlG8M
