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Our human fathers may leave us with wounds, because they carry wounds themselves. But God the Father can make up for their failings and heal us from our pain.

I have old black and white photos of my dad and me when I was very young. They show him carrying me as a baby, nursing me on his knees and playing with me when I was a small boy.

I never doubted my dad’s love for me. Our home was never a place where I heard raised angry voices or felt fearful or abandoned by my dad.

He was a good man, who worked hard to provide for our family. There was never any doubt that dad loved all of us, my mum, little sister and myself.

Every year we enjoyed family holidays together, as well as regular gatherings with our uncles, aunties and cousins. Life was good.

Growing Apart

Time passed. I became a teenager, grew into adulthood and left home when I got married at the age of 23. The relationship between my dad and I changed throughout my years of growing up.

He was still a good man, but he was never a father I could talk to about deeper issues of life. Mum was a Christian, but Dad expressed no faith in God. Occasionally he would accompany us to the little Methodist church we attended. He would only stand in silence during the singing of the hymns.

Dad’s brother once told me that when he was a boy, three of his younger siblings, twin boys and a girl, died of childhood diseases before the age of 2. He was heard to say to his mum, “Why did God do that?”

As an adult, the relationship between my dad and I lacked any form of physical affection. My sister and I couldn’t remember a time in adult life when he ever said to us, “I love you.” If mum ever tried to show him any affection in front of us kids, dad would get very uncomfortable.

Grief

My first wife had been unwell for much of our married life and in 1989 underwent a transplant operation that did not have a good outcome. She remained in hospital for the next 6 months until her death at the age of 36.

Our families and many Christian friends were present in the ICU. It was time for the nurse on duty to turn off her life support equipment. Very quickly after this, my wife slipped quietly from us into the Lord’s presence.

I said my goodbye to her, then turned to my dad and said, “Dad, I need a hug.” As I went to him, he couldn’t do it himself. I had to physically lift his arms and wrap them around me.

Years later, Dad developed throat cancer. I was away on an overseas trip at the time but arrived home in time to spend one last hour with him. He lay sedated on his hospital bed and had not long to live.

Not knowing whether he could hear me or not, I spoke into his ear and told him how I loved him and was grateful that he had been my dad. I then took the opportunity to tell Dad how much God loved him and wanted to have him in eternity with Him.

Praying, I asked Dad, if he could hear me, to ask Jesus into his heart to forgive him of all his sins and bring him safely into His heavenly kingdom. One can never underestimate what someone in Dad’s state can still hear.

The hospital provided me with a room where I could stay the night to be near Dad. I went there to unpack, but wasn’t there long before a nurse arrived to tell me that Dad had just passed away.

Dad was 77 years old when he died. At the funeral, the lady chaplain spoke of the talks she had with Dad while in hospital. She told of the many times Dad had expressed his love for his son and daughter. These were, ironically, words that my sister and I had rarely if ever heard directly from his lips.

Life continued with my mum dying eight years later in a nursing home. Being parentless felt rather strange. One generation had passed, and we were left to carry on. In the process of growing up, physical scars of childhood accidents may be many and obvious, while the hidden wounds of parental deficiencies remain hidden to all, but not to God.

A Vision

Seven years later, I experienced a profound emotional healing. We never realise how unwell we are until we are restored to normal health. This is no less applicable to our emotional well-being.

I was attending a session at a Christian conference. The leader asked us all to move to a space in the auditorium where we could be alone with God in our thoughts.

Quiet worship music played in the background as we entered God’s presence. Our session leader was encouraging us to ask the Lord what He would like to show us or say to us.

Almost immediately, I saw Jesus’ bloodied hand impaled to the cross by a large nail. As I looked at the image in my mind, I heard the leader say over the microphone, “Put your hand in the hand of Jesus.”  She had no idea what I was looking at just then.

I felt that Jesus was inviting me to do just that, to put my hands in His hands. With my imagination, I placed one and then the other hand into both His hands on the cross, then stepped up onto His feet.

I was then stretched out in the shape of the cross with my face so close to His that we could look into each other’s eyes.

It was then the scene appeared to split in half, and I fell into Him and travelled down a long hallway till it seemed I was in the golden throne room with Father God. The vision was not crystal clear, and I couldn’t get any further into the vision.

After some time of lying there waiting on God for further revelation, our leader asked for people to share what visions they had received. I was the second to volunteer. As I stepped up to the mic and began sharing what I had seen, she asked me what it meant to me.

I then realised that by placing myself in Jesus’ arms, I had fallen into the Father’s arms. I then added that I could not remember my own father ever giving me a hug.

Having said that, I couldn’t continue speaking, but began to weep uncontrollably. The leader prayed for me and down I went on to the floor, sobbing deeply as a load of pushed down and accumulated hurt came to the surface.

I realised later that all my life I had felt alone (not lonely), but that I often felt like I didn’t belong or was always on the outer of things. Even in my own family, because my father never included me in his life with affection and hugs, I grew up feeling disconnected from life in general.

I always felt different from all my peers and often told my mum this. God was releasing these hurts out of my life. I honour my dad. He was a good man in many ways. He was the way he was because of his own life hurts.

My heavenly Father began setting me free so that I could receive His love, His spiritual hugs.

Early next morning I awoke with a clearer understanding of what I had seen in the vision. The ‘hallway’ was taking me through the veil of Jesus’ body that had been torn on the cross to give us access to the Father in the heavenly Holy of Holies!

Scripture confirms this vision in many places.

Hebrews 10:19,20-22 says,

“Therefore, brethren, having boldness to enter the Holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He consecrated for us, through the veil, that is, His flesh, and having a High Priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.”

John 14:6 says,

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”

God wants to release us from the hurts caused unknowingly or knowingly by the imperfect love of our earthly parents. God is our true Father. In His love, He created us and draws us to Himself through His Son Jesus Christ.

Set aside some time with God. Let Him show you what He wants you to see or know. He will heal your hurts and then fill you with the Holy Spirit, He can impart the experience of Father God’s love for you. Accept His unconditional love.

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Photo by Alena Darmel.