Through My Eyes

A Survivor Looks at the Word of God

Abba Father

"And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, "Abba, Father!" Galatians 4:6

Daddy, Father! It was hard for me to know and relate to those words. First, Daddy is a term of endearment. For me, it conjured up pictures of a little girl raising her hands up toward her daddy wanting him to hold her for comfort, for affection, for love, or just to be close to the most important, most beloved man in her little life. It was meaningless to me. The only time that I was even minutely in touch with a longing to have a daddy was when I’d see a child in his or her father’s lap. Tears would stream down my face, and I’d quickly try to wipe them away and quell the sobs that threatened to rack through my body before anyone could see. For some reason, even the thought of someone seeing that pain was embarrassing, like I was wanting something terrible. I didn’t understand then why it caused such pain.

I didn’t understand what a father’s heart was. My experience had been with a father that kicked me across the floor—didn’t want me on his lap—was not affectionate—and then, when only six years old, abandoned me after his divorce with my mother. He never paid child support, didn’t call to see how I was, didn’t come to see me. My poem, “How Did You Feel” pretty much explains what my life with him was like. And from him we went immediately to live with my step-dad, someone I thought loved me and cared about me. But life with him would end up much the same.

When scriptures were read like the one about how our earthly father wouldn’t give us a stone if we asked for bread so how much more will our heavenly father give gifts to those he loves, I couldn’t identify. A stone at least would have been something. I had nothing from my father...nothing. When God’s unconditional love was talked about, I had no frame of reference. I couldn’t comprehend love that wasn’t contingent on what I did or who I was. In my mind, I was bad and must have been really terrible that my own dad couldn’t love me. So how could anyone else?

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