Father’s Day came and went in South Africa this past weekend. Social media feeds were flooded with messages honouring dads for their love and contribution. But, for some, this day is bittersweet. Their voices are not heard on Facebook, for the real journey with our earthly fathers is a mysteriously powerful thing that defies a simple status update.
In a safe place, over a cup of coffee, or around the campfire, you’ll hear stories of longing for a deep and meaningful relationship with a flesh-and-blood dad. The desire for a closeness that never was, or never was quite enough to satisfy our yearning for masculine love and validation.
Ann Voskamp phrases it beautifully : “When you want the man that began you to bless you — to say that you are one of his dreams come true, that you are what he hoped for, you are his desires and love incarnated and there is nothing he will leave behind that compares to the masterpiece of you changing the world and everything coming ahead. Sometimes what you want most is your father to give you the greatest gift anyone can give someone: for him to believe in you.”
Your dad probably did the best he could. He wanted something better for you than he had, but did not know how to give it, because he never received it. His generation was one where close friendships were few, and sharing your masculine journey was rare. His own father generally hailed from an era of rugged individuals who raised their sons with little outward affection, and even fewer words of affirmation. The heroes of the day were cowboys who stoicly tamed the wilderness. Big boys did not flinch, let alone cry, and a good man provided for his family. Ironically, what his family wanted most was that he would provide them with himself, first. God intended a father to be fully engaged — nurturing the hearts of his sons and daughters in the safety of his big, strong arms.
Our unrequited desire for a father’s acknowledgement did not begin with us — it has come a long, long way. Your dad carried this longing in his heart too. There is no other explanation for this universal ache for a father’s love and belief in us than this: it was breathed into our very fabric by a Father who created us for Himself, never to walk alone. He expressed it when he enveloped us in the Garden. When He (Jesus) drew each little child close, hugged them, and blessed them, despite the disciples’ protest. And when God broke the silence, speaking to Jesus what He needed to hear most :”You are my beloved Son. I delight in you – you bring me such joy.” (Matt 3:17). He said this aloud so that we could all hear it, and know what kind of all-encompassing, shout-it-from-the-rooftops love we are invited into.
My own story is one of unexpected loss. My dad was here, and then gone, in a blink. Overnight I found myself in deep water — or rather — quicksand. There was so much that I needed to say, but no-one to say it to. I eventually wrote him a letter. But what I needed more was to receive a letter from him.
That is when I happened upon a simple, but deep and healing exercise : Write the letter that you would have wanted to receive from your father. Don’t hold back. Trust me, and just go for it. Pour everything in there. Write it as him, addressed to you, preferably in longhand. Read it. Read it again. Amongst your own desires you will find echoes of the Father’s love. And , if you are a dad yourself, you may discover some clues to what your boys and girls truly desire, above all else.
Father’s Day brings me face to face with my own flawed humanness. I realise just how much I need to be Fathered. The good news is that God will never stop pursuing us. His desire is for us, and our deepest desire is for Him, whether we know that already or not. But the really great news? You can have as much of your Dad as you truly want. Simply ask Him to to come and Father you.