A Father’s Embrace
Several years ago, at my uncle's memorial service, my cousin gave a heartfelt tribute to his dad. He expressed his love for a father that even though he was a truck driver—when he was back home, you knew he was home. He loved on his kids and showered attention on them. One thing stuck in my mind—when he would take them for a 'Sunday drive,' they would always stop at a Dairy Queen for ice cream. I remember chuckling to myself because I had the same memory, but with my grandpa. Sunday afternoons, piling into his car, we would go for a drive. The grandparents, single mom, and kids were thrilled because the anticipated ice cream cone was at the end of that drive. A simple act of love remembered years later.
Memories—those thoughts that come at times unbidden, when you least expect them. Sadly, I don't have a lot of feel-good memories of my father. My parents divorced when I was around five years of age. My dad drank a lot, and a couple of very unpleasant scenes are still there in that memory vault of my mind.
My mom remarried when I was ten. She married a good man. Truthfully, though in the beginning, I was scared of him. We three kids had not had a man in our lives for years. He was large (to me) and a bit gruff. But he had a big heart, and we discovered he was a good provider for the family. We had been on Welfare (a government food program) for years and suddenly found ourselves not needing it. I will never forget that first Christmas with my step-dad. My memories of previous Christmases were a man from the Welfare office dressed like Santa Claus coming to the front door with a box of food and one gift for each of us kids. No cuddly hugs or excited anticipation—just a delivery. But, we children were thankful, as was our mother.
That first Christmas, though, we had a larger-than-what-we-were-used-to tree with lights, tinsel, and gifts all wrapped in colorful festive paper. We had presents! And more than one! We weren’t wealthy by any means, but more than one gift—what a Christmas!
Many years later, now married and with a family, I was sitting alone one day on our couch reading a book about God's deep love for us, as a father. I had dedicated my life to God when I was eighteen, after some tough and emotional years. I felt loved by Him and happy in the life He had blessed me with. Our family served in missions and had traveled the world. I knew of God's provision and care. But the healing of past wounds can come in stages, and I was about to enter a new phase.
As I read about this Heavenly Father's love compared to earthly fathers, my eyes suddenly welled with tears. I was hit with such a wave of emotion; I was shocked. Whoa, where is this coming from? As the tears kept coming, I began to pray. I realized my heart was crying out for something deeper. It seemed like years flashed before me in a series of events. I had a good, albeit at times emotionally difficult, childhood, but I had a wonderful mother who did her best when single and always there for us. She married a good man who worked hard, provided for, and did love us. For many of us, looking back, we probably wished it could have been better. In retrospect, though, we are thankful for what we had. I'd heard worse stories of how families behaved with one another.
But even with the good, I did not have the warm and cuddly. I don't ever remember sitting on a father's lap for comfort or just being cuddled. I don't remember a lot of hugs. I honestly don’t remember the words ‘I love you’ in my early years (except from my mother), but yet I somehow knew my step-dad loved me and, hopefully, my biological father also did.
At that moment, amid all these thoughts, I knew my little girl's heart was crying out for a deeper father/daughter relationship with my Heavenly Father. One where I could go and be hugged and loved whenever I needed it. No strings attached and a bit foreign to me.
I was sobbing, something I don't think I had done for quite some time in prayer. I envisioned myself crawling up onto Father God's lap and Him putting His arms around me in a big hug. He just held me. It was a moment I will never forget. A peace settled over me, and I knew I had found a deeper place of fulfillment in my friendship with God. I don't know how long I sat there, but when I opened my eyes, I felt a new freedom. My Father loved to hug me. Don't get me wrong—I have lots of hugs in my life—my husband and children shower me with love and hugs. And I am so very grateful for my family. But let's be real…NOTHING can take the place of God's love or even His hugs. No husband, child, boyfriend, girlfriend, job, money, or possessions can ever fill that place in our hearts and souls, which was meant for only God to fill. (Thankfully, my step-dad and I did a lot of hugging in his last years.)
I share this because many of us go through life, not resting fully in the freedom of knowing HOW MUCH our Father loves us as His sons and daughters. So much of our understanding of a father comes from our early childhood. When we come to faith in God, our Father, this can translate over to Him and how we relate in our relationship to Him. And this can be good or bad.
I leave you with the invitation…come and know the Father. Find a quiet spot where you and He can just sit. Maybe you know Him already, and you simply need refreshment. Or perhaps you never have known the love of a father…or THE Father. You can pray and ask Him to hug you. Envision it. Ask Him to show His love to you in a way that YOU will be able to grasp somehow. No matter what you have done, He waits with open arms. He forgives, and His lap is ready to receive you. His hand is reaching out to walk with you. His invite from thousands of years ago in Revelation 3:20 is still real today. I hope and pray that you will hear His Father heart to you.