Zambia Hunt

Father’s Day is a day that often fills me with sadness.

I am grateful for my father, and I recognize that in His sovereignty, God chose him to be my dad. But as Father’s Day approaches each year, I feel a deep sense of disappointment and loss.

There is disappointment because there is no longer any opportunity for my father to become the father to me that he should have been.

There is loss because death has taken him away.

Though I am now 60 years old, there remains a part of me that still wishes things had been different. I wish I had experienced a relationship with my father that filled my heart with gratitude, joy, and pride. Instead, many of my memories are dark, painful, and sad.

Death changes things in profound ways. It takes away the possibility, the possibility that things might change, that he might see the error of his ways, repent, seek forgiveness, and pursue reconciliation. That possibility is gone now.

While I do not live dwelling on these things, Father’s Day still brings with it a quiet ache. A lingering sense of ‘I wish it could have been different.’

But there is a lesson in this.

By God’s grace, I determined long ago that this would not become my legacy with my own children and grandchildren.

Father’s Day reminds me that I am, before anything else, a child of God. I am a man called by God to lead my children, and my children’s children, toward Him and to show them what it means to know Him, love Him, and follow Him.

So Father’s Day carries mixed emotions for me.

There is sorrow for what I never had. There is grief for what never was. But there is also deep gratitude for the grace of God.

I wish my father had told me he loved me and that his actions had demonstrated the truth of those words.

I wish my father had been the kind of man who could look at me and say, “Son, I’m proud of you.”

I will never hear those words from him. But by God’s grace, I can ensure something different for my own children. I want my sons and daughters to hear those words from me. And not just once. Often.

I want them to know they are loved. I want them to know I am proud of them. I want them to see those truths not only in my words, but in my actions.

Perhaps that is one of God’s redemptive mercies: that even painful legacies need not continue. His grace allows us to break patterns. His mercy allows us to build something different. And for that, I am profoundly grateful.

For those who carry wounds from their earthly father, there is hope. The deepest longings of your heart for love, acceptance, security, and affirmation find their fulfillment in God. He is the perfect father who never fails, never wounds you unjustly, never abandons you, and loves you perfectly. His unending love is demonstrated in the sacrifice of His own Son for you! 

No earthly father, however faithful, can love perfectly. But our heavenly Father can! In Christ, we find the love we long for, the acceptance we need, and the security our hearts crave. He is the Father who will never fail his children.