“The Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down . . . he upholds the widow and the fatherless.” Psalm 146:8–9
Bitter abandonment
My earliest memory of my father is of him in uniform, leaving to fly overseas. I did not know that it would be the last time my family, as I knew it, would be together. My parents divorced shortly after he left.
Growing up without a dad was hard. Daddies teach you to ride a bike, tuck you in at night, hug you for no reason, and tell you you’re pretty when you are in the middle of adolescence. My mom did her best to try and be both parents to me, but now as a mom myself, I see that the dad best fills the role of the dad. My dad popped in and out of my life for the better part of 25 years. There were always promises of grander things and more time together but it never really happened.
I grew bitter toward my father. The bitterness made me cold toward him and emotionally unavailable. I built a thick wall of protection around myself. When he would reach out, I would think, You were never there for me. Why should I invest in you? I believed a lie that if I let my dad into my life, he would abandon me again and leave my heart hurting.
And then God showed up, or rather, I opened up to God.
New eyes
One Sunday, Pastor Mark was preaching through Proverbs and talked about how God promises, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5). It was that moment that I realized something huge.
God was the one who would always be there and I did not need to place my worldly expectations on my dad.
In that moment, the Father in heaven reached down and hugged me with a fatherly love that cannot be equaled. He gave me a new heart and a new set of eyes to see my life through. My life was not defined by the fact that my father had abandoned me—it was defined first as a daughter in Jesus, and then as the wife to my husband and his standing in Christ.
With my new eyes, I was able to see both God and my earthy father differently. Instead of looking at them, God asked me to look at myself. How was I handling things? Was I holding my dad to unspoken expectations? When he failed in my eyes, was it because of sin? Or because of things I thought I needed from him that he wasn’t giving me?
It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. My heart had been so hard and protected for so long.
Looking back on blindness
“. . . and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” Ephesians 4:23–24
I had been so focused on my sufferings in life without a dad, that I’d been blind to see God’s loving touch throughout my life. With my new eyes I was able to look back over my life and see all the ways that God had taken care of me providing me an earthly father when and where I needed one: I always had a best friend whose father would adopt and treat me as his own child. Their family would include me in family vacations and let me experience what it was like to be part of something bigger. Growing up, my mom was able to buy a house that was two blocks away from my grandfather and three blocks away from my uncle. Both of these men took on the role of dad when I needed someone to come to my violin performances or take me out for pie. And I met the most amazing man who today is my husband of 21 years who protects and provides for me and our family daily—in ways I hadn’t even noticed before. God provided in many ways for me along the way until I was able to see him in the biggest way as my Father in heaven.
The whole experience was like a stripping away, a softening, as if God said, See? I have provided for you.
Look at the husband you have.
Look at the family you have.
Look at the friends you have.
Look at me.
Unwrapping the layers
It was as if I’d been asleep and then there was this awakening. The only way I can describe it is like this: when Lazarus was raised, he was wrapped in cloth. It was Jesus who did the actual work of raising him, but it was his friends who unwrapped him. God awakened me, and then my husband unwrapped a layer, and then my friends unwrapped a layer . . . but it was all because Jesus had awakened me, and now I could see it.
When you have that experience of just being so hard and then there’s a softening that comes, you think back on the times you were hard and how much time you lost. It’s stupid. Now I feel like it’s foolishness to have been so hard for so long. It’s not worth it.
God showed me that he is the perfect Father. I could release my father from this standard and allow him to make mistakes even though they might hurt. I had been given the gift of forgiveness—I could now extend it to my dad.
Repenting of bitterness
Being a loving father, God was not done working. The heavenly Father wasn’t about to let my sin of bitterness against my earthly father go. When sin is present it separates us from each other and God. He did not want my relationship with my father to be left this way. I needed to talk to my father even though I didn’t want to. I had to repent to my father of the expectations that I had put on him. I had to confess my sin of bitterness and work toward restoration.
That conversation happened over 10 years ago. It was a hard painful season, but looking back I can remember that God was telling me to take down the walls I had built and really talk to my dad. I had to be honest and tell him all the ways I had been hurt, burdened, and abandoned. And not only how I had been hurt, but how I had harbored that hurt and didn’t trust him to love me. I needed to give him the chance for forgiveness and reconciliation just as God had with my sin.
The slow work of reconciliation
Today, my dad and I are slowly working on building our relationship out of grace and forgiveness. We’ve found, though, that we’re essentially building something from scratch and with no history. Sometimes our conversations sound like, “You didn’t bring the nails?” “Well, we gotta figure out how to get nails together,” “We don’t have a hammer?” Etc. So those experiences of building are good but it’s slow. I wish it were fast. But I’m OK with it.
It feels hard in the moment at times, but easier in the big scope of things because of Jesus. Jesus has me however any of this looks in the end. I appreciate my dad and where he is in his life. I don’t hold him to unspoken expectations, don’t feel the need to judge him anymore. And I know I’m only able to be reconciled to both my heavenly father and my earthly father by the work Jesus Christ on the cross.
Jesus empowers forgiveness
“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses.” Ephesians 1:7
I can extend grace and forgiveness because Jesus did this for me. We cannot give what we have not first been given. Jesus’ perfect work on the cross has allowed me to seek forgiveness and be forgiven. Jesus alone is the author of the gift of forgiveness. Jesus’ abounding love compels us and stirs a renewing of our hearts toward this kind of change. Jesus wanted me to see my father with my new eyes and new heart he had graciously provided me.
Is Jesus asking you to forgive you earthly father? Does he want to provide you with a new heart and new eyes?
Jesus knows the hearts of his children, and his blessings know no boundaries.
Andrea Dahlman is a deacon at the Shoreline church.
