Living Brave and Courageous

“Why can’t I have a dad like her?”

I was about eight years old. Still, thirty years later, I remember the moment I heard this question. It kinda hung in the air. In my young brain it had never occurred to me that all families were not the same. 

There was a single mom at our church with two kids. A girl, a few years old than me and a boy a couple years younger. They were struggling financially and when they came to church, they were always a little awkward and maybe out of place. Many times our family had them over for meals and we regularly connected with them at church. My dad has always had a heart for the broken, hurting and marginalized. Especially kids without fathers. 

On one occasion, I remember my dad and I taking my friend shopping for some clothes. She got a church dress brand new. She was so proud of it. Looking back, I remember it was similar to a dress I had…and we were twinning one Sunday when we both showed up in the same dress. I t h ink that might have been one of the reasons she liked it. Because she could pretend she had a dad that bought her and her sister matching dresses. 

A few months later, my friend- who was still young- maybe not even a teen yet, tried to take her own life. In the hospital our pastor visited her to talk to her as she healed and received mental support. She asked him, “why can’t I have a dad like Faith does?”

When I heard this, it made me pause. At eight or nine years old, I had never thought about the fact that my dad was abnormal. That other kids were wishing my dad was theirs. I had taken him for granted. 

My dad is present. 

Cheers me on. 

Points me to Jesus. 

Sacrificial.

He is kind. 

Generous. 

He lives his life for eternity. 

Loves well. 

In a world where we think about ourselves and parents aren’t available, our kids don’t want presents. They want presence. My dad has given me that. 

And here’s the thing- nearly thirty years later- I am even more grateful for the Dad God graciously gave me. 

On the week of Father’s Day, I want to honor my dad… and there’s another reason that I’m writing this. I’m honestly saddened by the unbiblical therapy language out there that has made all parents the villains of our stories. Even some Christian counselors that are helping this generation walk in unforgiveness, shaming the previous generation and promoting a victim mentality. 

To be clear I am not talking about actual abuse. I work with abused women and never want to minimize their pain. 

I’m talking about Christian parents who didn’t have the tools, were blazing a new path and were surviving a tough world while raising kids. They were trying to give them a better life than they had. And they messed up. (Who doesn’t?!) But they had no idea that twenty years down the road, despite their hard trying, sacrifice and determination, they would be the villain and their kids would cut them off. 

I’ve seen it a hundred times in my generation and the next. And it is hurting us. Because we were created for multi-generational relationships. God wired us to learn from the previous generation, grow in community with different ages and stages of life and hang out with more than just our peers. 

Instead, we build whole platforms on stupid reels about “re-educating” our parents about what words they can and can’t say or make fun of the old fashioned way they do things. This not only humiliates them, but it gives the devil a hay-day. It all stems from entitlement. As if we are owed a perfect childhood. 

Instead, our parents worked hard sometimes with little or no support from their parents. They gave us the important things in life and tried to set us up with skills to thrive in our world. And what do we do? Write a book on how terrible our strict home was and what villains our parents are. 

Again- we aren’t talking about real, physical abuse here. I’m talking about the kids who missed out on sleep overs, watching certain movies or going certain places out of protection…and then turned around and resented that they didn’t get to do these things! 

Maybe I feel so strongly about this because I’ve sat with women in prison and heard REAL horror stories about parents. Parents who sex trafficked them, never were around, never cared where they were at any hour of the day or night, or taught them to sell drugs when they were in middle school. Women who never knew who their dad was or if they did, were beat by him. This is real abuse. It’s horrendous. 

So having a dad and mom that showed up even if they did it imperfectly? We are always in the top percentile of the world, y’all. We will always have an incredible leg up in life if our parents stayed married and chose to do their best raising kids. And if you think you can do it better, have some kids- you’ll realize being a perfect parent will allude your grasp. 

I’ve taken my dad and mom into prison with me to share about Jesus and every time, there are women who cry and tell me they wish they had a mom and dad like me. And every time it brings tears to my eyes and I say, “Yeah, I’m very blessed.” Because I am. And I know it now. 

Like my friend thirty years ago, there’s a longing deep in our souls for a connection with our earthly father. That’s because our earthly dad was made to point us to Jesus. He is the first picture to our little hearts of what God looks like. Is our dad a perfect picture? Of course not. But if he is present, loving, kind, generous and selflessly sacrificial…that’s a pretty good picture of your Heavenly Father. 

My Dad is a good mirror of Jesus. I’m grateful to my Dad and to Jesus.

I love you Dad!