Father’s Day looks different when both of your fathers—the one who raised you and the one who raised your wife—are gone. There are no phone calls to make, no cards to send, no last‑minute scramble to find a restaurant that isn’t packed. The day is quieter now. But it isn’t empty.
If anything, it has become a day that points me upward.
Scripture doesn’t start with human fathers; it starts with the
Father. Not “a father,” not “like a father,” but the One whose very nature
defines the word. Earthly fathers are shadows, reflections, approximations. God
is the original. Paul says it plainly: “from whom every family in heaven and
on earth is named.” In other words, fatherhood isn’t a human invention … it’s
a divine one.
That changes how I see this day.
When I think about what fathers are supposed to do—protect,
provide, guide, correct, bless—I realize that every good father I’ve ever known
was simply borrowing traits from God. Even the best dads only manage a faint
echo of what He does perfectly. And the rest of us? Well, we do our best,
stumble often, and hope our kids remember the good parts.
But God never stumbles. He never forgets. He never fails to
show up. He never disciplines in irritation or provides reluctantly or listens
half‑heartedly. He is the Father who doesn’t age, doesn’t weaken, doesn’t
drift, doesn’t die. The Father who doesn’t leave us with unresolved questions
or unfinished conversations. The Father who doesn’t need a holiday to remind
Him to care.
And the older I get, the more I realize how much I depend on
that.
I miss my fathers … both of them … in different ways and for
different reasons. But their absence has made the presence of the Father stand
out in sharper relief. The comfort, the correction, the provision, the
patience, the wisdom … all the things I once associated with earthly fathers, I
now see more clearly in Him. Not as a substitute, but as the source.
So this Father’s Day, I’m grateful. Not because I have
fathers to call, but because I have a Father who calls me His. The Father who
defines fatherhood. The Father who outlives every earthly dad. The Father who
disciplines in love, provides in wisdom, forgives without hesitation, and never
once abandons His children.
If Father’s Day is meant to honor fathers, then He deserves
the first place.
Praise God for the fathers He's placed to reflect Him, even dimly.
ReplyDeleteMy husband and I no longer observe “Father’s Day” (or “Mother’s Day”), and neither of us can truly extol our earthly fathers (who both died in 2014, having both been estranged from us for decades); however, I’ll go along today in order to follow your good points about God’s perfect Fatherhood. In addition to the qualities of a good earthly father that you mentioned--all but a “faint echo” of our heavenly Father, as you say--I am mindful that the Lord also fully demonstrates all of the qualities of the most devoted, loving human mother--i.e. bringing forth life and then nurturing, feeding, comforting, carrying, encouraging, and training it to maturity. Therefore, I am just as inclined to move my thoughts to the Lord on the second Sunday in May as on the third Sunday in June--indeed, every day of the calendar. Afterall, “The Father Who Defines Fatherhood”--and so much more--cannot be confined to Hallmark holidays.
ReplyDeleteYou don't even celebrate yourselves as mother and father?
DeleteMy husband and I rejoice and thank God that He gave us two children to love and to raise; that is our constant, daily sentiment (and we look to God--rather than our children--for any praise that might be due regarding our parenting performance). Once our last parent passed away in early 2015, my husband and I felt led to drop observances of “Mother’s Day” and “Father’s Day” for our family going forward. It might seem silly to choose to abstain from a basically positive observance, but we felt we had good cause. (P.S. I wrote a bit about this at Stan’s 5/10/26 post.)
Delete