Lent Exercises: Father - Taking a Step Towards Trust

I used to do a monologue from a play called, “I never sang for my father,” by Robert Anderson.  It felt like it was written for me.  It’s a confessional piece full of abrupt endings.  “That night I left my father’s house forever… he never left… I could never learn what that emotion was… he died without even an orange in his hand…”.

I could relate to the staccato.  My relationship with my dad had been punctuated by quick turns and sometimes quicker hands.  The monologue gave me words to express and explore abandonment, rage, grief, desire, and disappointment.  Through it I had permission to speak of dad in the past tense.  I relished the thought.  Still, the ending line haunted me, “But still every time I hear the word, Father, it matters.”  

The word, father, still matters.  Everything I want for my daughters is evoked in those syllables.  When I offer direction, sponsorship, or support to young leaders, the word comes to mind.  

Today’s reflection comes from Psalm 103

As a father cares for his children, *
so does the Lord care for those who fear him.
14 For he himself knows whereof we are made; *
he remembers that we are but dust.
15 Our days are like the grass; *
we flourish like a flower of the field;
16 When the wind goes over it, it is gone, *
and its place shall know it no more.
17 But the merciful goodness of the Lord endures forever
on those who fear him, *
and his righteousness on children's children;

For someone who’s relationship with a father is strained, distant, or abusive, texts like this one can be difficult.  What do you do if the image of father, evokes traumatic memory, fear, or profound grief?  As we lean into the foundations of our Lent Exercises, you’re invited to re-imagine your image of father.  

Here are some things to notice as you reimagine God as father.  Notice that the Lord, as father, cares for his children.  This care for us is tied to God’s acceptance of our humanity.  We are dust.  Our days are like grass.  We are impermanent, limited, time bound creatures.  And yet, God’s mercy and goodness endures forever.  

What would it be like to be loved by a father who cared for you?  Just this week I sat on the phone and cried alongside one of my daughters as she worked through a disappointment.  Can you imagine God doing this?  Can you imagine a father who accepted your limitations, faults, and failures?  Can you imagine a father whose love will endure long past your accomplishments, or sense of responsibility?   

If you can, open your imagination and talk to God as though he is this kind of father.  What emerges?  

If you can’t, that’s ok.  Imagine one way God has cared for you.  Ask, that caring God to help you feel safe enough to trust God just a little bit more.  What emerges?