I can’t say I’m a big fan of Father’s Day. My dad died of leukemia on December 5, 2004, and six months later, my cancer was discovered. Being without a dad and knowing my sons may soon be fatherless has left me somewhat cold toward the holiday.
This past week, I found my youngest son, Torin, bawling at the bottom of the stairs because, of all reasons, his brother’s train was faster than his. At once my mind sputtered to life like some obsolete computer, and I began crafting the words to yet another lesson about dealing with life’s disappointments or some other parental sentiment. But then my thoughts slogged to a stop. I was just too tired. So I descended the stairs, gathered Torin into my lap and held him without saying a word. Sitting there staring out the window with my son in my lap, a thunderbolt of realization struck me. Call me dense, but I never thought of Father’s Day in the context of my heavenly Father.
Last Thursday, I sat in the office of my radiologist. I was anxious and fearful because, of all reasons, death might be around the corner. Unlike my five year old, I didn’t cry, but I prayed very hard throughout the consultation. My conversation with my Father went something like this.
Father, my vision of the future is short sighted. Fear and worry cause me to doubt you.
Child, before I laid the first cornerstone of the earth’s foundation, I loved you. Though you were my enemy, my plan has always been to adopt you and call you my son. (Ephesians 1:4-5).
Father, this radiation treatment is everyday for six weeks. It’s going to be a lot of time, a lot of pain.
Push your roots deeper into the rich soil of my marvelous love, son. You cannot know how wide and long and high and deep my love is for you. (Ephesians 3:17-18)
Father, the treatments could paralyze me; they could give me more cancer later.
Son, my faithful love for you endures forever. I am working out my plan for your life. (Psalm 138:8)
Father, the treatment may not work.
At my Firstborn's request, I will keep you and care for you. (John 17:11)
Father, the cancer is still in my lungs. Experimental drugs, more pain, more uncertainty, more fear.
Son, strangers now love you, people you’ve never met shed tears for you. How much more do I love you? I sacrificed my First Son for you. I sent my Spirit to live in you. My love for you is defined by Me for I am love. (1 John 4:7-10)
Father, will you take this disease from me?
My Firstborn Son was sorrowful unto death when he asked me to remove My cup of suffering from Him. I sent Him an angel, but I still sent him to the cross. (Luke 22:42-44)
Father, I am afraid.
Be strong, son, and don’t be afraid. I am going ahead of you to make certain you don’t fall. I cannot forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)
I am so tired Heavenly Father.
Wait on me, son, and your strength will be renewed. You will fly like the eagles and run without growing weary (Isaiah 40:31)
Father, everyone thinks I’m so strong, but you know my weakness. My faith constantly falters.
I am the eternal God, son. I am your refuge. There is no one like Me. I will ride across the heavens to help you. My everlasting arms are beneath you. I am holding you just as you held Torin. (Deuteronomy 33:26-27)
After a few minutes on the stairs, Torin realized there was nothing to cry about, and he trotted back upstairs to his trains. I wish it were as easy for me to trot back carefree to my daily activities, to remember that death has been swallowed in victory and can no longer sting me. (1 Corinthians 15:55) It’s not easy for me, but I’m getting there.
I encourage all of you, my dear brothers and sisters, to embrace the promises of your heavenly Father this Father’s Day.
God bless,
Tim
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