by Louie Giglio
That’s the challenge inherent with declaring God is a Father . Our earthly fathers have fallen short, some more than others. Some fathers proved themselves true—time and time again. But others proved false—and this also happened time and time again. Let’s face it. There’s a fatherhood crisis in our world. According to the National Fatherhood Initiative, one in four kids live in a home without a dad. 6 That’s a quarter of the children in the U.S. waking up each day without any type of father present in their lives. Yet, such a staggering realization shouldn’t come as a surprise.
The Enemy seeks to destroy fatherhood. He wants to break apart our image of what a good father is. He wants to destroy families and wreck the relationships between fathers and their kids. If he can shatter our picture of good earthly fathers, then he might in turn blast our image of our perfect heavenly Father. And if the Enemy can’t completely shatter our image of God, maybe he can mess with it just enough to keep us from living fully free.
Six Fathers
I don’t pretend to know or fully understand what your dad was/is like. But there are six father figures that tend to dominate our stories. Maybe your dad is like one of these.
The Absent Father
This father could be absent due to death, divorce, distance, or disinterest. He may have been gone before you even took your first breath. Or maybe you knew him, but some disease, or accident, or violence took him from you. If he is around today, maybe he’s too busy or he’s moved on to another life, another family, another city.
The bottom line: he’s not present in your life.
When dad is gone there’s a void, a hole. Whether we admit it or not, we’re left to compensate for the absence of everything that’s good about having a dad. The blessing. The physical hug. The support. The words I love you, and you are mine.
Without a dad who is present in our world the sense of security we need isn’t there. The protection every son and daughter longs for is missing. All you’re left with are the questions: Why did my dad have to die? God, why did you do this to me?
If he’s still alive but vacant from our stories we ask: Why did he disappear on me? Am I just not that important to him? Does he even know I exist? Is he ashamed of me? What did I do wrong?
So, when you hear “God wants you to know Him as your father,” you think, Hoo boy, that must mean He’s not interested in me at all. How can I know He’s gonna stay? For all I know He’ll just walk away.
Often, the void left by an absent father causes us to build a shell around our hearts, seemingly impenetrable armor that protects us from ever feeling that sense of loss and pain and betrayal again.
But it’s hard to shake the “abandoned” or “orphaned” tag, and it’s a massive challenge for any of us who’ve been left behind not to overcompensate for the loss of a father’s blessing by claiming our worth from a thousand lesser things. It’s hard to walk free from the absence of one of the things we needed most.
The Abusive Father
If this was your father, then you have known a barrage of killing words, cutting words, defaming words, debilitating words.
Maybe you felt the brunt of emotional abuse. You were condemned, humiliated, intimidated, manipulated, always kept off kilter. The actions of your father chipped away at your dignity and destroyed your self-worth. For some it was verbal abuse. You were constantly yelled at, threatened, cursed. Or maybe you were physically abused. You were punched, kicked, shoved, thrown around, or your family members were physically hurt in front of you. Abuse can be sexual. Maybe your dad did or said horrible things to you that undermined your sense of privacy and dignity and made you feel disgusting inside. Maybe the abuse was spiritual. Your dad led you in harmful spiritual directions. Or he coerced or condemned or conned you with his spirituality.
Whatever form the abuse took, you were always wondering where you stood, and maybe you grew up depressed, anxious, defensive, angry, maybe even suicidal.
If a father’s abuse is in your story, it’s possible your trust level is low, especially towards men or anyone in a position of authority. You’ve been cheated of innocence and robbed of self-worth. Life was a daily game of survival and you’ve learned how to survive with the best of them.
For some people, survival happens by creating an alter ego, delegating the abuse to another version of themselves. Some harbor a raging fire of anger that’s consuming them from the inside out—bitterness toward the abuser and intense frustration toward themselves for letting it happen.
Emotions are not easily accessed or shared with others. Isolation becomes the norm. Close relationships tend to burn out because intimacy and vulnerability are always just out of reach.
I’ve talked with people who were abused by their fathers, and strangely enough, some say that at the time of the abuse they didn’t put all the blame on their dad. They actually thought something about them was the problem. Surely, they must have done something wrong or been defective in some way to receive that kind of treatment. (Answer: no!) Abuse can be weakening and crippling, and it can drive a serious blow to a person’s sense of identity, confidence, and worth. If God is like this, why would anyone want to be near Him?
The Passive Father
This dad might be a nice guy, but he’s weak, and mostly silent. He refused to take up the mantle of leadership in your family. Mom ran the show while Dad sat quietly by. With this dad there’s no initiative, no responsibility, no guidance, no action. Dad is paralyzed. Perhaps he’s on the couch with the remote in his hand, or perhaps he’s frozen by some trauma in his past that’s undisclosed. He’s not abusive, and he’s always there, but he’s a non-factor in the day-to-day decisions and struggles of your life.
He’s defeated, perhaps steamrolled into submission by some events in his life. Ultimately, he can’t be the father you so desperately want him to be. And he has never shown you how to live—how to face an uncertain world with confidence and courage. He’s never shown you as a son how to be a man. He’s never modeled for you as a daughter what it looks like to be loved and treasured by a man who honors and serves you and will fight for you.
He never set any real ground rules. Never showed you tough love. You always did whatever you wanted as far as dad was concerned. And, while you told your friends you loved the freedom his disinterest afforded you, you really wanted your dad to care enough to say, Enough, stop.
If God is like this dad, then perhaps He, too, is a nonfactor in your life. Honestly, you don’t need Him.
The Performance-Based Father
Life with this dad is a grind. He’s fine with handing out the blessing—the love, the approval, the encouragement—but it all comes with conditions. With this dad you have to earn his love. Only if you run faster than the other kids, you might get a high five at the end of the race. Only if you get straight A’s, you might hear job well done . Only if you act a certain way, or achieve a certain position, or measure up a certain way, you might receive this dad’s approval. Jump through the preset hoops, you get the hug. Ring the bell, you get the love. But if you stumble or fall, if you make a misstep along the way, you’ll hear about it. And you’ll pay the price.
Withheld love is used as a motivator. And for some that works to a degree. They jump higher. Achieve more. Try harder. Always doing whatever it takes to make Dad happy. They may resent Dad’s ways, but some end up spending their entire life proving to him that they were good enough all along.
For others, living with this father leaves them feeling crippled, beaten down. Eventually, afraid to fail and sure they will never get it right, they just cave in and give up. I’ll never be good enough for him, they think. What’s the point in trying anymore?
This dad is always watching you, always evaluating, often condemning, often judging. This father helps you only when you help yourself. And if God the Father is like this earthly dad, then you always feel like you have to do more. You have to earn your way into God’s approval. If you ever mess up, you’re finished. No thanks.
/> The Antagonistic Father
Instead of giving you the blessing, this dad is always giving you a run for your money. He first reminds you that you’re not all that great, and then he sets out to prove why he’s better than you. This father always puts you on the defensive. He’s your sparring partner, but it goes way beyond fun and games. He’s your adversary, your nemesis, a hostile presence. Then he sets himself up to compete for all the attention. He soaks up all the oxygen in the room.
He points out all your flaws to others and seeds failure in your mind every time you try something new. He’s not for you. He’s against you. And, before you can ever have the chance of succeeding out in the world you have to fight your way out of your own home.
Surely God who sent His Son into the world is not a Father like this.
The Empowering Father
Some of you know that although your dad’s not perfect, he’s doing his best. Your dad is or was a really good father, and whether he’s still present in your life, or death has taken him from you, his blessing is a big part of who you’re becoming. There are more than a few dads like this in the world.
This father is a kind, strong, encouraging dad. When it comes to loving his family, this father is the one who constantly does his best. He might still wear Bermuda shorts with dark socks and dress shoes when he goes to the mall, but he’s always telling his kids he loves them. He’s the guy who makes every attempt to be there for his children.
Are you fortunate enough to know a good father? This dad, when you were little, stuck his head inside your bedroom door at night and said, “Hey, I just want you to know I love you. You’re my favorite son!” You smiled as you heard him say those same words to your brother down the hall.
As you grew older, he provided a safety net that allowed you the security to reach for things you never dreamed you could reach for. He’s the dad who, if you messed up or failed, you could still call him. In fact, he’s the first person you called.
His love wasn’t without correction when you needed it. But you always knew it really did hurt him more than it hurt you when he needed to discipline you.
He is your hero, your role model. And he has showed you how good it is to know that God is a Father, too. Someone you can trust, and depend on, and imitate.
If you’ve had an empowering father, then you may have a head start toward seeing God as Father. And, if you’ve lived with one of these other dads, or some hybrid of a few of them, you may feel like you’re still stuck. Stuck with a twisted view of “father” that’s making it difficult for you to embrace this idea that God wants you to know Him as Abba Father.
Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed
So, where do you go from here if your view of father has been shattered? How do you move forward if your trust in the one who should have been the most trustworthy person in your life (your earthly dad) has been damaged or corrupted or blurred? How can you celebrate the fact that there is a great God in heaven who wants you to know Him as Abba? If God is a father like yours why would you want anything to do with Him?
Well, here’s the good news—the life-altering news I’ve been waiting to share since we started this book:
God is not the reflection of your earthly dad. He is the perfection of your earthly dad.
God’s not just a bigger version of your earthly father. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted your dad to be and more.
This is great news for us all! Even if your dad is a really wonderful father, you still don’t want him to be your God, and you don’t want God to be exactly like him. You want a God who is somewhat like him but infinitely better. And that’s what you have.
And if you’ve been trying to overcome the wounds of a terrible earthly dad, and you’re thinking you’ll never be able to relate to God as a father because you don’t even know how, I encourage you to think again. Even if your dad left a wake of pain and confusion, and weakened you more than he helped make you strong, you can still imagine what it would have been like if things had been different.
through our faith in christ, we can find the father we have been longing for All along.
It’s likely you have imagined what life would be like with a loving, engaged, encouraging, interested dad. What if your earthly father did sit patiently on the end of your bed and ask you to tell him all about your day? Haven’t you imagined what his embrace would have felt like? What it would have been like if he put the newspaper down or turned the volume down on the television remote and noticed you? Didn’t you wonder how things would have been different if he had showed up and sobered up and stayed true and defended you? Haven’t you tried to imagine your dad being like this?
The good news is that God is what you’ve imagined all these years. He’s everything you’ve always wanted, and so much more! You can use those longings and desires to find your way to Him, knowing that He’s not an oversized version of your dad, He’s the perfect father you have always dreamed of. From the pages of Scripture you can know that . . .
You are the apple of His eye.
He saw you long before you saw Him.
You are His unique and purposed creation.
You have been loved by Him since before there was time.
He sought you and paid a ransom for you before you did one thing to deserve it.
He never gave up on you.
Before God ever asked anything from you, He gave everything to you in the gift of His Son.
You matter to God.
You have a destiny.
You are a somebody.
You have God-given gifts.
You are not the center of all creation, but you are dearly loved by the One who is!
You have access to the throne of grace.
You have a seat at the table of heaven.
You have a God to call Father.
And you have a God who calls you daughter. Son.
And your Father in heaven is a Healer. He can heal all the wounds your earthly father may have caused you. He can pick you up and hold you in His care. He can redeem what has been lost and make all things new again. His arms are strong and His heart is good and you can trust Him.
But how?
Facing the Woundedness
The Enemy is constantly whispering in your ear: Hey, you can’t trust God, because remember what your dad did to you? Remember how your dad broke your heart? Sooner or later, God’s going to do the same thing.
How do you get past this hurdle? How do you silence the voice of the Enemy that’s ringing in your head and causing you to lock your heart in a vault, never to be wounded again?
First, you have to take serious stock of your wounds. I don’t believe, as some do, that the driving factor in all our lives are our “daddy wounds.” I don’t believe every single person has been broken by their earthly dad. Yet, father wounds are real, and for some these wounds are the dominating factor shaping how they view themselves and relate to others.
If this describes you, then the first step toward freedom is to face up to the pain and hurt. Ignoring our wounds isn’t going to help them heal. Acting like we’re “fine,” or setting out to prove that we don’t care about what our father did to us, is not realistic, and will only keep us stuck in the past.
When I was about ten years old my dad spent six months working in Holland. When he arrived back in Atlanta, he came bearing gifts for my mom, sister, and me. I’ll never forget the moment he handed me a little box containing a red Swiss Army knife. Score! Though only four inches long, this contraption had a dozen different apparatuses on it: among them a corkscrew, tiny scissors, a nail file, a toothpick, and several different knife blades. Granted, my dad probably picked it up at the airport, but I was too young to care or let that chill my mood. This thing was legit, and my mom’s disapproval only made me love it more. Dad gave me a quick tutorial, highlighted by the instruction to always use the knife blade in a motion away from my body. Always cut away from you , he warned. Understand?
Yes, Dad, I get it. A
lways cut like this, I said, as I motioned with the knife away from myself.
A few weeks later, while Mom and Dad had guests over for dinner and a game of cards, I locked myself in my parents’ bathroom and proceeded to hone my carving skills (which were none) on a foot-long piece of 4 x 4 wood that was left over from the stereo cabinet Dad was building. Perched on the toilet, I grabbed the wood in one hand and started whittling away with the large, three-inch blade. About five minutes into the process the inevitable happened. Foolishly, I was carving the wood toward my body when the blade slipped and sliced into my left hand. The blade sped right through that patch of skin that forms the webbing between your thumb and index finger. I’ll spare further description for the sake of the faint of heart, but suffice it to say blood went everywhere. I didn’t want to interrupt the card game but this couldn’t wait.
Mom, I hurt my hand real bad , I confessed as I sheepishly said Hi to our guests. Turning my back to the table I pulled back the red wad of toilet paper that I was pressing into the wound.
Her eyes widened.
Why did you do that? she asked.
I was carving with my new knife Dad got me and it slipped.
Well, we’ll look at it after our company is gone, she said. And try not to get blood on the carpet.
This was a classic response from my mom. Though dramatic at times, she always underreacted when I hurt myself. After their friends went home, she surveyed the cut, ran some water over it in the bathroom sink, and patched it up with Band-Aids and gauze. That night I got a lecture from Dad (prompted by Mom), and the Swiss Army knife was confiscated as punishment for violating rule “numero uno.”
Fifty years later the scar on my left hand confirms the knife wound left a two-inch opening, which rendered my hand pretty much useless for some time. It was a stitches-requiring gash, for sure. But instead of an emergency room visit, we just covered it best we could, and I tried not to move my thumb for a week or so.