Life without a Dad: What if he wasn’t there?

By Jesse Garcia | Guest Blogger

About 2 years ago I was a missionary with Lifeteen and our main mission was to lead teens closer to Christ. I was with 14 other missionaries leading a camp in Boston. For the day we split up into men and women groups. Since the camp was filled with 24 middle school girls, all the guys decided to go out and eat. We were sitting in this nice restaurant, laughing, and having a good time. We handed the waitress the check and someone loudly passed gas. It came from the side where I am sitting and everyone looked at me. If I was a little younger, it probably would have been me but in this situation it wasn’t.

Typical guys right?

So everyone blamed me and I just shrugged it off. By dinner time we meet back up with the girls at camp and talked about our day. All the guys started laughing and telling the girls that I passed gas at dinner. At this point it really started getting to me. They all pointed at me, and said, Jesse just admit it. I started to get angry as they continued laughing. Finally my anger got to me and I just left the table. I went to my room and started pacing. I was so mad and it was over something so stupid. I asked myself, Why am I really this mad? I headed down to the chapel and started praying. I asked God, Why am I so mad? As I closed my eyes, I was brought back to a memory when I was about seven years old.

At seven I was separated from my siblings and mother because of abuse. I lived with a foster mom and a couple of her kids. I was getting used to the routine of not living with my family. Every day I would go to school, Boys and Girls Club and then I would go home. One day my social worker was dropping me off at the foster home and I could see my foster mom standing outside. As we got out of the car she started yelling at me and accusing me of stealing five dollars. Ma’am I would never do that. As she began to throw my stuff outside she continued to say, Just admit you took it. Tears started streaming from my eyes as I tried to reassure her that it wasn’t me. At seven years old I realized that I had no one to stand up for me; I didn’t have a father to protect me. I didn’t have one to call dad. I didn’t have someone to look up to as a man. As tears continued to roll I asked God,

Where were you?!

Why did you let this happen?

I thought you cared about us.

I thought you were a good God?

I was pouring out all my frustration that my dad wasn’t there for me into God since He is supposed to always be there. Where were you? As I looked up I heard, Jesse I was right there with you standing right next to you, crying and wishing you knew I was right there. I know you didn’t do it son. I opened my eyes and saw the tabernacle and in disbelief said, You were always there. In that very moment I was healed of all those times where I wished my dad was there to protect me, and I finally realized that He was there. He was always holding me near His heart. He was always watching out for me. For a long time, the longing of an absent father skewed my vision of who God is as Father.

I know Father’s Day is this Sunday and for a lot of us we don’t have a great image of a true virtuous father. It is so vital to allow God into our wounds because they can hold us back from being free.

In Jeremiah 31:17 it says that God will restore us and bring us back to health. Take this to heart and forgive your fathers and allow God to show you how He has been fathering you this whole time.

Some practical things that you can do:

1) Go and pray in front of Jesus and ask Him to help you open your heart.

2) Think of the memory that ruined your view of having the true meaning of father. This might be really hard for you to do but it is essential.

3) Ask God to show you where He was in all of this.

4) Use your wounds to help others find freedom.

P.S. You are enough.