Father’s Day can stir gratitude, grief, and longing. But even broken fathers cannot erase the promise of the greater Voice that never falls silent.
For some, it is a day of gratitude. For others, it is a day of grief, anger, regret, or longing. Some remember fathers they dearly loved. Others struggle to remember a father at all.
The best fathers point toward a greater Voice. The worst fathers cannot eclipse it.
Thinking about Father’s Day recently, a friend sighed and said, “I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to honor my father.”
The hesitation said more than the sentence.
Years ago, a caller to my radio program spoke of caring for his aging father, an abusive alcoholic who at that point required assistance. The caller was 52 years old, yet he confessed that whenever he was around his father, he felt 11 again.
The years had passed. The wounds had not.
Another friend put it more bluntly: “My father was a pedophile.”
