Is It Too Late to Talk About Fathers?

Jesus always speaks of God as father, even to the point of using the word “abba” which is roughly equivalent to our word “daddy.” Our liturgies use this same imagery almost exclusively. It’s historical, of course, but it’s also troublesome to at least two groups of people: those who prefer inclusive language and those for whom the word “father” conjures up bad, even horrible images from childhood.

I’m absolutely in favor of inclusive language and was using it more than thirty years ago when I was a campus minister--much to the discomfort of some of my more traditional students. But this is not what I want to write about today. It is the second group, those who have bad images of the word, to whom I want to speak. (If you’re not one of them, keep reading and perhaps you’ll learn something that you can use to help your friends who have this matter with which to deal.)

As a therapist, it was not uncommon for clients to share with me stories of fathers--and mothers--that would range from sad to heart-breaking to almost criminal. To talk with them about God as a loving father would be something very difficult for them to grasp. Driven by guilt because of the verbal abuse and emotional abandonment they felt, they simply couldn’t relate to a father’s love. They were sure they were unlovable themselves, unloveable by anyone for that matter. They couldn’t even begin to love themselves. As a consequence, they were unhappy and their emotional and relational lives were often in tatters. Frequently, they had stopped going to church years before. Those who still did attend typically were driven there by the fear of what God, this celestial judge, would do to them if they didn’t go.

How does one begin to help someone accept a different way of thinking about God when faced with these kinds of life experiences? I found only one thing that helped. When I was a kid, radio and later TV offered images of fathers quite different from these clients’ images. Father Knows Best, Beaver, Andy Griffith, to name only a few provided images of fathers as kind, compassionate, understanding, wise, available, and, of course, loving. Sure they were idealized images in many ways. Even my Dad with whom I had a very close relationship didn’t quite rise to these standards! However, the idea of an idealized image of father was the key to helping.

Even those traumatized by their fathers had been exposed to better models. Often they would speak of a friend’s father as someone they wished they had as their own. Perhaps they saw some of the positive images on TV, but had dismissed them as “Hollywood fantasies.” Still, they had a starting place. Imagine, I would say, the perfect father, the father you always wished you had, the father that was way too good to be true. Imagine the father who wouldn’t tell you that big boys and girls don’t cry when they skin their knees, but rather the father who comforts you, tends to the physical wound and binds up your damaged ego for having fallen. Imagine the father who would tell you how proud he was of your efforts and achievement rather than always demanded more and better performance. Imagine the father, who when you disappointed him, would forgive you, encourage you, and let you know he’d always be there and always love you, disappointments and all.  Imagine this, I’d say, and you have a tiny glimpse of who God is. God is, not just the father like this, but also the mother like this. God is the perfect parent who gave us life and then hung around, as it were, to help us develop that life, loving us even when we felt unlovable and even when we thought we didn’t make the mark.

For a very long time now, I have stopped beginning my prayers with phrases like, “Almighty God,” or “Eternal Father,” or similar titles. Instead I almost universally begin with “Gracious God,” sometimes followed by, “Loving Parent.” It’s not that I don’t believe God is almighty and eternal, I do.  But God’s chief quality for me is graciousness and love for all.

So, though I’m a little late saying it, “Happy Father’s Day” both to the fathers and to the children who have God as their parent.

Peace, Jerry