When Father’s Day Hurts
In less than one year my mother’s father, my father’s father, and my daughter’s father died. We were blessed by their lives of faith—lives that were dedicated to loving God and loving others. At their funerals, we told their stories of coming to faith and how they lived as true servants of the Lord. We reflected on their greatest legacies, the disciples of Jesus they left behind. Even with all this hope, the Father’s Day after they died seemed completely covered in a cloud of grief and pain from their deaths.
If you were blessed with a wonderful relationship with your father, you know how easy it is to celebrate and honor the ways he has helped you flourish. But maybe illness or distance keeps you from celebrating what should be celebrated. Maybe your father has died, and he isn’t here to read the cards or receive your hugs. Perhaps you scroll through social media and see all the commemorative posts for great dads, and your dad wasn’t one of them. Maybe you look at your husband and know deep down that he would be a wonderful, loving father, but God hasn’t given you children. Maybe you have tragically had to bury your child that made your husband a father, so celebration feels horribly inappropriate. Maybe you're like me, raising a child without their father.
Father’s Day can remind us of prayers that have not been answered the way we hoped.
Grieve
Holidays of all kinds, despite being times of great celebration, often highlight what we have lost. If you are looking at Father’s Day approaching and feeling overcome by sadness, I encourage you to grieve. It’s easy to miss and to long for those who loved God and loved us so well. Lamenting their loss does not take away the beauty of this holiday. It reminds us of the goodness of fatherhood, and it’s okay to long for good things, to beg God for them, to be broken about broken relationships and broken circumstances.
Grieving might look like sitting down to share a meal with loved ones and simply saying the name of the father who is no longer here. It might look like journaling all the complicated feelings that the day brings. Perhaps it’s you and your husband spending the day alone, or maybe gathering with those who care well for you and are unafraid of the challenging layers of days like this one. Maybe you go all out and throw a party, doing your person’s favorite things. Maybe you simply sing their favorite song. Maybe grieving looks like visiting the cemetery, as it does for my family. My daughter will paint a rock and lay it on her dad’s name, as we remember how well he loved us and look forward to when God will make all things new.
Hope
Good fathers remind us of the greatest good Father we have in God (1 John 3:1). It’s not as if God the Father is like the good fathers we experience here on earth; they could only ever be like him, reflecting parts of his character and pointing us to someone even greater than themselves. When earthly fathers demonstrate sacrificial love, whether or not they intend to, they point us to the Father who created us and sent his own Son to die on our behalf. Our deepest, greatest need was met in him. When a father forgives his child, we think of God the Father who has forgiven us of all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9, Matt. 6:14). Every single day, our perfect Father takes care of our needs just as he cares for the needs of the sparrows, even when we struggle to see his tender hand (Matt. 6:26). He knows our hearts so intimately, so completely, that he knows what we need even before we ask, loving us supremely better than any earthly father could (Matt. 6:8).
“Our hope in life and death is that we are not our own but belong to God.”
These truths are not a consolation, not a “but at least you have a heavenly father,” kind of encouragement if you didn’t get to experience a good father or if your father is no longer here. These truths are not pithy or trite statements; they are our greatest hope. Our hope in life and death is that we are not our own but belong to God. This is the hope we cling to as we navigate broken or lost relationships. This is the hope that good fathers ultimately point to.
Good fathers here on earth are a grace from God, and we long for and admire good fathers because he is the greatest of good Fathers.
Commend
Even with the grief we hold on our shoulders as we prepare for this holiday, we are also free to honor and celebrate the fathers (and spiritual fathers) in our lives. In big ways or small, we commend them for how they have demonstrated the grace of God to us. We appreciate them for how they have loved us, provided for us, listened to us, protected us, advocated for us, challenged us to grow, and for the ways they may continue to do these things today.
We set aside a day to thank them and celebrate them—the grace of the gospel means that we can hold the tension of celebration and grief as we wait for the day when we will feast without tears. I encourage you to celebrate and enjoy remembering and admiring the fathers in your life. Throw a party. Write a note. Take photos. Eat good food. Try something new. Go on an adventure. Laugh. Tell stories.
Father’s Day is a loaded day, a day of both celebration and, for many, grief. So, as we prepare for it to come, let me end with a prayer for us:
“Our Father, please be with us as we prepare for another holiday that reminds us of both your great grace to us and the pain of living in a broken world. Help us to grieve what should be grieved and celebrate what should be celebrated. Help us to believe that you are our greatest Father and Savior, that you love us, that you are with us. Help us rest in your character and cling to you through this day. Amen.”
RESOURCES ON GRIEF AND LAMENT
IMPORTANT NOTE
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