The Dad Longing

I would maintain that even a bad dad stirs the hearts of their boys. One of my earliest memories is of my nose pressed to the glass of our front door on a frosty evening, wiping the fog off the pane, watching and waiting. Waiting for my dad to pull up in his truck. Waiting for the physical man, but waiting too for that something that was Dad. Waiting for the Dad feeling, that feeling of celebration that his arrival would prompt. I am certain that my father never actually considered his station, his deity in my eyes. He was Dad, and when he came home it was good. Not even the screaming and shouting and fighting with Mom that often shocked us boys out of our dreams could destroy the Dad longing.

They divorced---he drank and beat her--- he moved away. He would show up and make promises, big promises to a 6 year old. “Gonna get you that 30-30 this Christmas.” Santa didn't get the letter, but I was sure it was coming. Santa never got the letter. Damn Santa.

The Dad longing dies hard. That joy of the celebration of Dad coming home lingers well into adulthood. I don’t think it can be eradicated. It haunts the heart that has done without it. And those whose hearts have basked in its joy only to have it stolen away groan inwardly for its return. That longing can turn to bitterness in a boy, but is best turned to resolve, a firm resolve to always be the source for that celebration in our own children so that they might fully understand the real source for that Dad feeling, the Lord Jesus. 

Despite the nonsense that some would have us believe that fathers are optional, I firmly believe my longing to celebrate at my father’s arrival home was a type for the real celebration of the Father’s love. We were made to know a father's love. I was reminded of that again this morning in church when we sang “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us”. It is that love that is the cause of real celebration in our lives, even in the lives of broken hearted little boys with their noses pressed to a window pane.

How Deep the Father’s Love for Us

Stuart Townend

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that left Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
(REPEAT)