Father Wounds

I don’t know why Dad treats me this way.

Unseeing eyes watched the gripping motion of one palm against the other. I am so tired of being angry. Help me, Lord.

Shaking his head, he pressed the heel of his palms against frustrating tears.  

Okay, okay, I know I need to stop judging and just forgive him – even though he doesn’t deserve it!

Then came the whisper:

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“It is by free grace that you are delivered from judgment.”

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A harsh sigh escaped his throat. Dear God, you are right. I need your grace every day. Of course it’s the same for Dad.

Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Bill remembered last night’s conversation.

Lord, I don’t know why, but I keep hoping dad will stop being so critical.

His father had gotten in the usual jab about the size of his law firm. I may not be a big shot lawyer like he was, but I do alright. I wish dad could accept that I’m not interested in the big bucks of corporate law.

And I end up angry. Every. Time. Dear God, forgive me for my anger.

The next whisper pierced his heart:

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“Judge Not Lest You Be Judged.”

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Closing his eyes in acknowledgement, he realized what he really wanted was justice for all the times his father had hurt him.

Yesss. I have been judging him.

The truth is dad is wrong to treat me this way but Lord, you are the only one who can judge him fairly.

Thinking of the strain on their relationship over the last several years, he shook his head. How had things gotten so difficult between them?

Dear God, I know he loves me and surely he loves you. Why does he have to act this way?

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“Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.”

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The whisper brought comfort.

I can’t understand him, but God, I know that you know what is going on. I just need to let you handle it.

Lord, I do choose to forgive him. Help me to trust you with this relationship.

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“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.”

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This whisper confirmed his every hope.

Thank you, Lord, for your miracle of grace. Thank you for the miracle of forgiveness. I can’t do this alone, so I ask you to complete this supernatural work in me. In Jesus name, I pray and praise your holy name. Amen.

His shoulders dropped as the tension drained away. A smile hovered as a knot loosened in his gut.

Then came a fresh whisper:

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“There is a wound.”

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My father has a wound causing him to act this way? Lord, I don’t know what that wound is, but I ask for healing of his wound. Lord, I ask that you bless him with full revelation of your love.

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“The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds.”

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Joy sang through him.

Yes Lord, I ask for that peace in my father’s mind and heart.

Bill sensed God fully lifting the burden. It was no longer his to carry. His relationship with his father was in God’s hands, perhaps for the first time. His tears were no longer of grief, but of freedom.

Have you had a difficult relationship in your life?

Tell us what helps you deal with it.

Images courtesy of Kittisak and David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Less Than Perfect

~~~

Agile fingers tore through bright red paper to reveal Crayola’s biggest Art Kit.

“Oh!” Brown eyes widened with a tentative excitement. “I forgot I wanted this!”

Lizzie caught her daughter’s furtive glance under the tree. Was she searching for the one present Santa couldn’t afford?

~~~

Slowly she put the phone down.

“The kids aren’t going to make it. David has the flu.” 

Jake studied his wife’s teary face. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. How disappointing.”

~~~

“Have you heard from any of your brothers? Are we getting together this year?”

Mouth turned downward, Keith turned to his wife.

“I don’t think so. Now that Mom’s gone, it seems no one wants to bother.”

~~~

It comes around every 365 days.

We spend weeks preparing for it.

The food. The decorations. The. Perfect. Gift.

Expectations bloom so high our voices squeak like helium.

And then it happens—the less-than-perfect.

And your smile goes flatter than Wile E. Coyote under the Steamroller.

At this point, I remind myself to be thankful for all that I have–my loved ones, the roof over my head, more food in the cupboard than some Third World grocers–and still find a hole in my heart.

I look at what so many have done to contribute to my life, to my family, to my special day–and still find an emptiness.

But finally I remember the baby in the manger and all that His birth accomplished in my life–and my smile returns.

For we know The One who never fails.

The One who never disappoints.

The One who celebrates You.

And that perfect peace reigns once more in this place.

This place in our hearts we return to time and again.

This place where we pursue Him, and find that He pursues us.

His Place. His Time. His Day.

And our less-than-perfect becomes what we wanted all along...

A celebration of The One who IS perfect.

It’s never too late to find your Merry Christmas. 

Images courtesy of Theeradech Sanin, Stuart Miles, and graur razvan ionut at FreeDigitalPhotos.net