Monday, September 26, 2005

Who's Your Daddy?

While reading the John Eldredge book "Wild at Heart", I finally realized why I have trouble connecting with God sometimes. God is our "abba", our daddy. He wants an intimate relationship with each of his children an he wants us to come to him, to depend on him fully, just like a small child depends on his earthly father. If you do not have a good role model with your biological father, then you just might be hesitant to try to connect with your Heavenly Father. I think that is where my problem lies.

I grew up in an secular home. My father was a hard working man. He was a strong provider who worked hard (one full time job and he did plumbing work on the side), but he also drank hard. He had a temper and I saw that many times. I do not think he knew how to show affection to us. He kept to himself and was mostly quiet unless he became upset or angry.

During my teenage years I wanted to gain my fathers approval more than anything. I kept a 3.5 GPA in school, I was in the chess club, the track team, and was in a few school plays and musicals. While I was never a stellar performer in any one category, I was not bad. However I cannot remember my father giving me much encouragement. By the time my senior year in high school came around, I was ready to prepare for college. I even had a school accept me where I only had to pay abut $500 semester to attend. My father was not very enthusiastic and talked me out of going. He never had much use for "college boys" in his life. I am sure he felt threatened (he only had an 8th grade education) by them.

I got married and had a son rather early in life, living across the street from my parents. Shortly after that, I moved to NC and my father told me it would be the biggest mistake of my life. I admit I was chasing a chance to get my life back on track and the odds were against me, but I wanted reassurance. I did not get it.

I was so hurt by his lack of confidence, that when I separated from my ex-wife and moved out (with no place to go and no money), I purposely did not tell them how bad things were because I figured I would get the "I told you so" speech.

When things got really bad and custody of my son was in question, I could hear my father (in my mind that is) criticizing me on the way things had gone in my life. He never said much to me, good or bad around that time. Maybe it was for the best. A few years later, I was remarried and I (nor my new bride) ever heard joyous words from my dad. He did give us $1000 toward the purchase of our first house, but I would not have asked if we had not been in very dire straits (that is a story unto itself).

After we bought our new house, I had to twist my fathers arm to get him and mom to come down to visit us. That one time was the only time he or my mother ever visited. To be honest, it was the last time he was healthy enough to travel. He became sick after that and slowly got worse. God blessed me with a visit from my dad and mom.

During that visit, they seemed to enjoy themselves somewhat. Both of them told me they liked our house. It was a starter home, but it really was a good starter home for us. We still miss it. We had a good visit, but Dad seemed a bit upset I would not let him smoke his pipe in the house. He grumble about it, but I told him that the house was smoke-free and I wanted to keep it that way. I think that is why they left a day early. He was not happy that he had to follow the house rules.

Dad and I never really got close. Over the next 3-4 years, he was in the hospital 1-2 times a year. Each time the doctors were sure he would die. I would get a call saying Dad was in the hospital and wanted to see me. I knew he loved me, he just had a hard time showing it.

In the spring of 2002, Dad finally passed away. Every time I called he was too weak to talk or he was asleep. He was in constant pain. I did manage to talk to him about a week or so before he passed.

I guess you can see why some people have trouble connecting to God.

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