In our A Praying Life material, we talk about approaching our Heavenly Father as freely as we’d approach our earthly dads. This can be a helpful comparison for people who’ve enjoyed good relationships with their dads, but for people who have had more complex experiences, it’s often a stumbling block. Bob Allums, director of A Praying Life Ministries recently asked Mark Moody, a pastor and volunteer with seeJesus, to share from his own experience how God fathers the fatherless...
My father passed away when I was 12 years old. It was a time of deep grieving and loss for me; my father had been my hero. Complicating the matter was the means of his death: suicide. I felt as though I wore a scarlet letter on my shirt wherever I went in my small town. Dad had been well-liked and known in the community. How could our family (and me, specifically) ever recover from this? It was a season of shame, a season where I believed that something was wrong with me that was NOT wrong with everyone else. This is a definition of shame from Sandra Wilson’s book, Released from Shame, which is referred to in the A Praying Life seminar.
Growing up in the church, I was aware that God was a “Father to the fatherless” – a reality that, in some ways, was hard to know; it would have been easier not to be aware of this promise. How is God going to be a Father to me when not having a father was my new reality? How would He be my Father in the midst of all this shame and sadness?
We often find ourselves living in the tension between the hope of God’s promise and the reality of our situation. It isn't easy. We can’t see how the two—God’s promise and our current reality—will come together. After my father’s death, my temptation was to think, “It doesn’t do any good to hope. It doesn’t do any good to live in this tension; just give up hope and it will be easier to live in this reality.” Giving up hope seemed easier and safer, but I was on the quick and slippery road to despair.
As we look at the Old Testament, it is out of these kinds of stories that God’s activity emerges most clearly. Often, the bigger the gap between God’s promise and the situation we find ourselves in, the more beautiful and richer the story of redemption God weaves.
As I have learned through A Praying Life, this gap (referred to in the seminar as the Sadness Gap) is illustrated biblically as a wilderness or desert. In the desert, human hope dies. Human dreams die. Our best plans die. We feel completely boxed in and the only open door to us is God. This is the place where we learn to pray; this is where we learn to connect with God. Who went through this desert experience? There are many examples of people learning to trust God in the desert for a promise that did not match their reality—think of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, and David.
So why does God take us through these desert seasons? It’s hard to say. Possibly to help our prayers focus less on changing the circumstance and more on trusting Him in the circumstance. God’s agenda may be much grander than changing the situation, but without experiencing the difficult circumstance, we will never experience His provision. What we know for sure is that even in these dark seasons, God is taking advantage of these moments to shape us into the image of His Son, Jesus. And yet, we are not to lose heart; He is also actively working on the situation. This is why He tells us to come to Him as children and ask Him for specific things.
A year after my father’s death, I had just finished up a very unsuccessful freshman year of high school. In a phrase, it had been a train wreck; socially, spiritually, athletically, and academically, I was barely keeping afloat. I needed a change. During the summer of that year, I attended a Christian camp in Western Massachusetts. One afternoon, I was at my cabin enjoying the afternoon when a thought came to me. Why not see if I can stay at the camp this next year? I could go to school in this community and have a fresh start at life. The thought was bold and came from nowhere but it seemed like something that I should at least inquire about. I decided to act.
I went to talk with the camp director about this idea. After some brief discussion and a phone call to my mother, the camp director and his wife decided to take me in for the year. Looking back, it was just what I needed. God used the camp and program director to father me through a very turbulent time. The year away from home gave me just enough space to “breathe.” It was then that God began to do a work in my heart to “normalize” me, so I could go back home and not feel like I was the odd guy wearing a scarlet letter.
So God kept his promise to be a “Father to the fatherless” through a camp. Three years later, as a 17-year-old at a staff retreat for the camp I called home just a few years earlier, I sat on the banks of the Quobbin Reservoir in Western Massachusetts and prayed, “God, I don’t know what you can do with me, but if you can do anything, I am yours.” How did God move me from being a lost, floundering 13-year-old to having a heart for God to do whatever He wanted in my life? In part, because I had observed through this camp, extended family, and other mentors how God could use these people to father me and I knew I could trust Him to be my Father. I could trust Him with my life.
As I have better understood my story through the life of prayer, I have understood that in the desert years of high school, God was shaping me as a person. There was a story being woven in my life even though I was unable at the time to understand it. It was a time where I was learning to abide with Jesus. As is said in the A Praying Life seminar, it’s in the desert where you learn to be with God’s heart.
Are you in a desert? If so, remember this: God has not led you into a wilderness to die. God is weaving a story in your life as you journey through the desert. The wonder of what He is doing can only be experienced as we trust Him in the middle and look back with faith when it ends. That may happen in this life, it may happen in the next. God does not promise to resolve all our prayer stories this side of eternity. But He does promise us Himself as we journey through the desert. So cry out to Him. Ask Him for help. Join with David who cried out in Psalm 63:1, O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Let God be a Father to you in the desert.