Ok, so it's late and this one is a little heavy, but it is something I've been thinking on since listening to the Botkin sister's presentation of "What is Biblical Femininity?"
In their presentation, they say that daughters need to trust their fathers - to give their father's their hearts - to trust in the man that GOD HAS GIVEN THEM FOR A FATHER (no, I'm not yelling, just emphasizing).
So I wonder, how does that work when your father hates you? How does that work when your father has despised you for as long as you can remember (because you weren't a boy - his last chance at one... because you laugh like his sister that tormented him when they were growing up and he has long disliked and often hated... because you remind him somehow of his mother whom he also has long despised... because you were a hyper little snot sometimes and a bull-headed one at that, and you just weren't always easy to like, even if he ever did want to give you a try?) Oops, more painful transparency... well, it's true. There was a short time when my father and I were on good terms, he and my mother were in the process of a divorce, I was a single mother of a baby, and he and I had a tiny bit of the relationship I have always wished to have with him... and I asked him why he hated me so much for so many years, and he was painfully honest with me. I don't regret asking him, and I don't regret hearing his answer - it gave me some good insight into the man whose approval I have almost always craved and have almost never gotten.
OK, disclaimer - I don't want pity for that, I'm just speaking fact, so please don't feel sorry for it. It is what it is - I have long accepted that. It hurt a great deal growing up, and when I'd had enough rejection, I made wrong choices that can only be blamed on me because I really did know better, but I chose not to care... and I made a mess of things. And how. And in the midst of my selfish anger and rebellion, the Lord reached down and convicted me of my sinful heart and my angry ways, and He brought me out of that pit of self-pity and destruction, and He brought me to a place where I could see my own fault in the relationship with my father (beause I am far, far, far from being innocent) and where I could really and truly forgive him for his part. So, pity not allowed or wanted - just giving background, k? K.
So, the Botkin sisters are talking about giving your father your heart... What if you have offered it time and again, and he quite simply doesn't want it? What if he rejects it? What if he has rejected it for years and years and years? What then? (No, I don't have an answer, just thinking out loud here...) What if you *don't* trust your father? What if you are afraid of him? (not of him hurting you physically, but of him rejecting you or hurting your heart?) What do you do with that?
I'm not about to argue that God gave me the father I was given. I don't doubt it for a moment. But what if that fallible man (because we are all, after all, fallible) failed as a father? What if he does not want anything to do with his daughter? What do you do with that?
You know, for a long, long time I viewed God as I viewed my father... I was *afraid* of Him... It seemed to me that nearly every time I screwed up as a kid (not every time, but pretty darn near!) my father saw it or heard about it or somehow otherwise found out about it... and he pounced. Now, I'm not saying I didn't deserve punishment, because so often I did! And I won't say that I think he was wrong to spank, because I believe spanking (when done right) is a good thing - but it isn't always... and he didn't always do it "right" - he often did it in anger... one example was when I told a huge and horrible whopper of a lie at school... I was so wrong... and I got so caught... oh my. I **deserved** a good spanking. Period. What I got was far more than a "good spanking".
That wasn't the only time he got angry and "disciplinarian" like that. This is just one of many examples. Was he wrong to spank me? Not at all. But the anger with which he spanked WAS wrong, and the extreme number of times he swung that paddle WAS wrong. The paddle was a 1x4 board, and it broke over my back that night. He swung hard. Where was my mother? He sent her and my sister for a walk, and they were gone for a long while.
So, how is that like God? Well, it isn't... but a girl sees her father-figure as a god of sorts... she craves his attention, his approval, his time... and he sets the tone for how she sees God. So God in my mind was a lightning bolt throwing angry God who was just WAITING to POUNCE... Just watching for me to screw up, to do something wrong, to think wrong thoughts, to say bad words... anything... so he could pounce and punish.
You know what, though? God isn't like that. He isn't "up there" throwing lightning bolts, He is a loving Father who does allow consequences for our sins, and yet who desires so much more for us... He desires good for us, and not evil... He gives us chance after chance after chance after chance... Forget Jesus' words to forgive seventy times seven (no, don't really - that's important, too!), God forgives us far and above that piddly number...
Forgives us... piddly... seventy times seven is piddly? Well, not when we are the ones needing to offer forgiveness... ouch... and yet, He offers it to us... and so we too should offer it... even if the recipient doesn't want our forgiveness or is ever aware that we've given it...
Yes, I have forgiven my father... long ago... but that doesn't mean memories of him don't still hurt... Was he all bad? No - he had some very good points as well... during one short time that we were in a good relationship together was just before my husband and I married - with my father's blessing, I was moving from one state to another - quite literally across the country - to be closer to my soon-to-be-husband, because he was back in the states and we were planning to be married, but were hoping to live in the same state for a while first to get reacquainted again first. Well, my car broke down literally half way between those states... I left Idaho, heading for Maryland with my two year old - our belongings packed into my little car (with a few bigger, special things in storage back in Idaho) and the transmission blew in Nebraska. No, it wasn't my driving - the car had a history of bad transmissions and that started long before it was my car - I can't take the blame for that one!) Anyway, I had a mechanic look at it, it wasn't repairable, and they didn't have the right transmission in stock, but they could order one... it would take a few days, though... so I called the Ford dealership (it was a Taurus, after all) and talked to their repair guys... I took notes from the phone calls, reviewed my finances, and looked over the local paper at used car ads... then I called my father.
OK dad, this is what the situation is, this is what it will cost to replace with a used/ rebuilt trannie, and this is what I found for used cards. This is how much money I have left. What do you think I should do? He asked for the number of the Ford dealer and said to hang tight (not his exact words) and he would call me back... about an hour later the phone rang... it was him... now I'm going to rabbit trail just a bit with an intermission...
After I called and talked to my dad, and while I was waiting for him to call back, I called my husband-to-be and filled him in on what was happening... we agreed that we both really needed to pray and make sure this wasn't God's way of telling us that we were going against His will. I asked my intended if he was having second thoughts, and if this wasn't a good way of telling me that perhaps we should wait, or perhaps it wasn't a good idea after all and he immediately shut down those thoughts... he had waited this long, he could continue to wait... he would wait forever if the Lord said "no" or "wait" - but as he said, it would be a mistake to marry if it wasn't the Lord's plan for us, no matter how much we might want it. He was right, and we spent the remainder of the time praying, literally on our knees, after hanging up. When the phone rang again, about an hour later, my legs were numb, so I picked up the phone and sat down on the nearest chair. It was my dad and he told me that he'd just spoken with a guy at the dealership and to call him and ONLY him and not talk to anyone else. Period.
OK, dad. I'll call him now...
Good thing I was sitting down... I called the guy and he made arrangements with me to pick up my car the next morning. I asked him when he would have it repaired and ready for me, and how much was it going to cost? He said "You don't know what your father and I talked about, do you?" I said I guess I don't, maybe you can fill me in on the details... he told me that my father was trading in my broken down little car for a brand new Ranger truck... and that my father was paying for it - the finances had been handled, I just needed an hour or so to go over all of the paperwork and what not and sign it. Good thing I was sitting down... oh, right, I said that already... shock... surprise.... and more... shock...
OK, dad, I just got off the phone with the guy, what just happened there? Oh wow, it's a wedding present - a gift of your blessing to us on our marriage... oh wow...
He said that he felt the Lord prompting him to buy me a new vehicle before my daughter and I left Idaho, but he didn't do it... and then (for the first time in my entire life... ever...) he apologized for not doing what he knew the Lord wanted him to do for me.
Wow - you just bought me a brand-spanking new truck and you are asking for my forgiveness??? Wow... well of course I forgive you, but that's a two way street and there is much forgiveness needed on my part as well... but yes - and thank you...
Backtracking years prior to that - I was going to live in a foster home... a private arrangement, not a state placement... it was all settled, but it didn't look good for my parents. There was this Camaro that I had been drooling over for weeks... it was for sale... needed some work, but nothing major... Dad said he would buy it for me if I would move back home and stay. I told him no - I didn't want him to buy me anything if he couldn't offer me his love as well... That settled it. I moved to the foster home a week later and he didn't speak to me for a couple of years after. I didn't want his money or the things that could be bought with it - I wanted his love. Same as now. I don't want anything from him but his love.
So, you see, the truck gift was huge... far more than a reliable vehicle... brand new, fresh off the lot, never been owned before and not a scratch on that shiny red paint... oh, and he paid for the tags and insurance until we were married and could switch it over to our own insurance. That wasn't cheap either. And he didn't have to do it... Indeed, had he not, I may very well have ended up back in Idaho, thinking that was God's way of telling me I was doing wrong by going to Maryland and marrying my long-time best friend. With my father's blessing and an offering of his love.
Another time... when I was a kid... mom was gone for the weekend, I think a women's retreat or something for the weekend. I was going bike riding with my friend April while she was in town visiting her father - she had his men's bike that was too big for her, and I had my women's bike that was a good fit for either of us, so she asked to trade bikes for the day. I'd never ridden a men's bike, but I was a good bit taller than her, so it just made sense. Well, I lost my balance going over the curb from our driveway to the street and ended up sliding across the road on one leg, with the other leg caught up on the bar that goes across the man's bike. I stopped by hitting my head on the mailbox post on the other side of the street - very bloody and in a lot of pain. I didn't realize it at the time, but apparently I screamed the entire way across the street and a lady visiting her family a few houses down saw my little accident and came running to help. I am so lucky that she was a nurse and her husband was a strong and friendly man - he carried me into the house and laid me on the couch - my sister came running from a friend's house a couple of houses the other direction, and the nurse-lady tried to clean my wounds while my sister called our dad. (that was back in the day when cell phones were so huge they wouldn't even fit in the average woman's purse! nothing like the little jobbies we have today...) Dad came home from work. That in and of itself was huge - he could hear my cries of pain and something paternal kicked in, and he came home. Huge. Did I say that already? He wasn't gruff when I cried because it hurt so bad when I needed to get up and go to the bathrom - in fact, he carried me to the bathroom a few times, setting me just inside the door so I could close it and do what I needed to, while he waited for me outside the door... Huge... Amazing... Astounding... He was gentle - he was careful with my wounds, he even changed bloody bandages before I slept that night.
Granted it didn't last after I recovered, but he was very much like a Daddy during that time, and I want to believe that it showed a bit of what he was on the inside...
Not a full year later he was in a mental hospital for a short time (I think for a weekend). Diagnosed with manic depression. That explains a lot, doesn't it? but the help he accepted and the medication he agreed to take didn't last long and he was back to the father I knew and feared not long after... and for a long time... but I had glimpsed the Daddy that he COULD be, and I desperately wished him back. I offered my heart again and again - I sought ways to please him, just to meet his disapproval over something else. And eventually, I gave up. I quit trying, and I even told myself that I didn't care anymore (but I was lying). I stopped offering my heart - I stopped wanting or trying to trust him - I stopped believing that he was the father God wanted me to have. And in a way, he wasn't... He, the man, is the father that God gave me... on purpose. But he, the human, fallible man chose a way that wasn't God's way in his fathering. I did not trust him with my heart. I could not. I've tried over the years... many ways,, many times, but in the end, it's always resulted in more broken heart and destroyed dreams. And so, not having had contact with my father - the Daddy I so desperately wanted for so many, many years - I hear this message... this part in particular and I can't help myself... I wonder...
What do I do with this? How do I trust? How do I give him my heart? I have given forgiveness... and when old hurts creep up (as they sometimes do) I have to assess if I am just feeling the rejection and hurt, or if I am allowing anger or other sin (pity?) to creep in... and if I do see those, I have to repent and ask my Lord to forgive me... and to help me forgive yet again. It's a process and it's a choice. I choose to forgive, yes. but how does that translate with trust? I love without question - I always will. If my father were to call me tomorrow (theoretically that isn't possible - our number is unlisted and I don't think he has any way to get it even if, by some huge miracle, he wanted it) I would gladly, joyfully reunite and try again... I believe that my God is a God who works miracles... I believe that He heals broken things, relationships especially... and yet I've prayed for that particular miracle for years and years and years... I can't help but feel like His answer is "no". Maybe I'm wrong - I hope I am wrong... I hope that some day... some miraculous day... the Lord will work that miracle. Until then, how do I trust? What do I do with a heart that my father wants nothing of?
I am so glad that my God is the father to the fatherless... because while my father is living (I think... last I heard... I hope...) he has long, long refused to be a father... our last phone conversation he told me exactly what he thinks/ thought of me, and it wasn't pretty... at all... and who he thinks I am or was is nothing like the person I have been for so many years. The person he described me to be would be unrecognizable to those who do know me - even those who do not particularly like me!
So, while I don't know what to do with these things as far as my earthly father is concerned, I do know that I have a heavenly father who sees me for all of my faults and failings, for my successes (that are only through his great mercy and grace!), and for my reality, and he loves me... I cling to that. and pray that some day my earthly father will too.
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