(excerpt from When Father is a Bad Word, by Dan Kuiper)

One day a prisoner at a penitentiary asked a Catholic nun who served as the prison chaplain to buy a Mother’s Day card for him to send to him mother. She did and, as the prisoner walked back to his cell with the card, the other prisoners asked where he got it.  Soon there was a long line of prisoners outside the nun’s office, waiting to ask her to buy a card for them to send to their moms.

The chaplain called Hallmark Cards and explained what had happened. Hallmark agreed to send three cases of discontinued Mother’s Day cards to the prison. Every card in those three boxes was mailed out of that prison with an appreciative inmate’s signature.

Noticing that Father’s Day was approaching the nun contacted Hallmark once again to ask if they would be so generous as to send some Father’s Day cards as well. Again, Hallmark shipped three cases of cards to the prison. All three boxes remain unopened. Not one prisoner thought enough of his dad to send him a card that cost him nothing.
 
The effects of father wounds are far-reaching. We often don't connect the dots that the issues we struggle with in our personal lives, in our marriages, and in our society can often be traced to strained, abusive, or non-existent relationships we have or had with our fathers.

Here are some of the more common childhood wounds that continue to fester in our adult lives if we don't get help: 
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1. Low sense of self-worth. It is very typical for children of fatherless homes, no matter what their age, to base their self-worth on the opinions of others. When a father is not involved offering support and encouragement in their kids’ lives the interpretation often is, “I must not matter.”
2. Feelings of inferiority. Children can’t help but feel lower on the totem pole than friends who have fathers who are actively involved in their lives. They often believe, most times erroneously, that is all of their friends. Therefore, no one is lower than them.
3. Taking on blame. Children cannot process data like adults. A child’s logic simply says, “Dad left. It’s my fault.”
4. Belief that you are unlovable or that something is wrong with you. This is a part of taking on blame. Children tend to personalize abandonment and reason that if only they were “better” their fathers wouldn’t have left them.
5. Lack of desire to achieve. A child can soon realize that even being perfect won’t bring their dad back so they tell themselves, “why try?” Abandoned boys especially can exhibit a lack of competitiveness and passion.
6. Little self-discipline. This is commonly referred to as “acting out.” Children release aggressive impulses to relieve emotional tension.
7. Inability to share feelings. There are three rules children impose on themselves to help them survive life in a dysfunctional environment—don’t talk, don’t trust, and don’t feel. These rules serve to protect them from feeling pain they would much rather avoid.

Ask yourself how these childhood characteristics might continue to play out in your adult life. The truth is we don't simply outgrow these destructive traits. We must find healing from our childhood wounds or they will seep into our adult relationships. You need not let them fester. Find a counselor. A pastor. A support group. There are plenty of safe places you can go where you can learn how to talk, to trust, and to feel. Healing can be found. Find it. You owe it to the people you love. You owe it to yourself.

​(excerpts from my book, When Father is a Bad Word)

Father. For some, that is a word that conjures up feelings of warmth, security, and pride. For all too many others it is a word that triggers shame, pain, and anger.

The relationship we have with our fathers has a profound effect on every human relationship we have on this earth. And it plays a crucial role in shaping the relationship we have with God.
           
I have known first-hand the pain inherent of growing up with an alcoholic father. Through the years I have discovered how my dad’s drinking not only drove a wedge between the two of us, it also became a barrier between me and God.

I had unwittingly transferred characteristics of my earthly father to my Heavenly Father. My journey toward spiritual health has led me to a profoundly more accurate understanding of who my Heavenly Father really is. The journey has also led me to cross paths with countless people who are dealing with (or not dealing with as the case may be) the same dilemma: adults, teens, and children whose concept of their Heavenly Father has been tainted by relationships with their earthly fathers that were far from ideal. 

The truth of the matter is this: There is a direct parallel between how we experience our fathers and how we experience our God. The toxins from a strained or non-existent father-child relationship can be lethal to our relationship with God. If our home life was poisoned by our father’s anger or abuse, or perhaps his ambivalence or absence, there is a strong likelihood our spiritual life will be tainted as we experience our Heavenly Father in much the same way.

The misconceptions of who God really is are devastating. They have led some to reject God altogether. Even the thought of entering a relationship with a Heavenly Father makes us sick to our stomach. We convince ourselves that it’s not worth the risk; that if we just walk away we will be better off.

But the sad reality is when we walk away from our Heavenly Father we are turning our backs on the only One who can provide healing for our father wounds. He is a Father we can trust. A Father who will never leave us. A Father who will love us no matter what. A Father who protects us and wants us to prosper. A Father who longs to hold us. A Father who encourages His kids. A Father who genuinely wants to spend time with us, who is pleased with us. A Father who suffers with us. A Father who gives us hope and a future.
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Father wounds can be healed when we place ourselves in the arms of our Heavenly Father.

Excerpt from When Father is a Bad Word​

I am no medical expert. It has come in very handy that I married a registered nurse. In our home Jan has had to deal with a variety of maladies, illnesses, and injuries, not to mention the subsequent crying, screaming, and demands to “kiss it and make it better” to which she usually responds, “Quit whining. You’re worse than the kids.”

But watching how she operates (no pun intended) in a situation where there is blood involved I have learned much. For instance, I have learned that there are three things that make open wounds dangerous. If cuts and gashes are not closed in time the results can be

1. infection,
2. contamination, and/or
3. the wounds becoming larger.

Open father wounds are dangerous for the same reasons. When we don’t experience “closure” to issues we have or had with our dads we can easily become “infected” with a host of harmful invaders—anger, depression, a sense of worthlessness, and addictive behaviors, just to name a few.

An interesting side note: Anyone with bad handwriting and an “M.D.” behind their name will tell you that more often than not it is infection that causes more long-term damage than the wound itself. Even the six-CD “How to Become a Professional Therapist” set sold on TV teaches that what we think is "the problem” is hardly ever "the problem.”

Unresolved issues with our dads can also lead to the contamination of our relationships with others. As a result of unhealthy interactions with our fathers, we may find it difficult, perhaps even impossible, to become truly intimate with anyone. We may be afraid of rejection. We may fear being abandoned. We may tend to expect the worst in most situations. We may keep people at arm’s length because of our inability to trust. We may carry inside us anger that erupts at the slightest provocation.

Take the issue of road rage for example. A driver takes offense at another driver resulting in screaming and hollering and cursing, punctuated by corresponding hand gestures. This behavior often results in altercations, assaults, and accidents.

So does this avalanche of anger really have to do with a poor schmuck in a Honda Civic who failed to turn on his blinker? Is it possible there is a more deserving target? Road rage could very well have more to do with care-less fathers than with careless drivers.  

In addition to infecting us and contaminating others when we don’t seek to close our father wounds quickly there is a great risk of the wounds becoming larger, causing an even greater threat to our health and well being. Left unchecked, resentment and unforgiveness will continue to eat away at our insides, causing our condition to worsen.

The good news is healing can happen. No matter how deep our father wounds we can have complete hope of a full recovery. Healing is found in relationship with our Heavenly Father. It is our understanding of Him that will soothe our wounds. It is knowing His nature that will provide balm for our hurts. It is entering into an intimate relationship with Him that will allow us to experience the love and healing and grace He longs to give us.

No matter how deep our father wounds, in the care of our Heavenly Father our prognosis is excellent. 

How I longed for closeness. I wanted nothing more than to simply be held in his arms and feel any tenderness he had for me. I needed to know that I was important to him; that he cared for me. But at a very early age I discovered the stark and indisputable truth that alcoholism and intimacy are incompatible.

My dad always drank. But when I was very young his drinking became unmanageable. I can still recall in disturbingly vivid detail my dad's drunken rages. The threats. The put-downs. The shaming. The blaming.

I am astounded at the power that flashbacks hold. All these years later, a simple dislodged memory can make me want to run and hide. 

But, just as remembering Dad's angry outbursts continues to trigger fear in me, recalling my hiding places still brings a strange sense of peace to my soul. Under my bed. In my bed, under the covers. My bedroom closet. The trunk of our blue Plymouth. When I was real little I would crawl into the doghouse and huddle in the straw with our Fox Terrier, Max.
  
As I shared these twenty-plus-year-old memories in my counselor's office, he tenderly brought me back to what it was that I needed as a frightened little boy. I stated again my deepest desire: I wanted a close, intimate relationship with my father.

With that goal in mind, my counselor suggested a seemingly easy remedy. Yet I found his prescription hard to swallow. Knowing I might never experience what I needed from my earthly father he said, “Sounds to me like you need to crawl up in your Heavenly Father’s lap and let Him love you.”

Just picturing that scene caused tears to stream down my cheeks. How I hungered for a father's love. How I craved the calm assurance that I was loved. How I need to find solace and safety in my dad's arms.

I knew it was a place I needed to go if I was ever to find healing for my soul. So I planned regular times when I would go off alone with God in hopes of finding what I was looking for.

I discovered that building intimacy is a process. At first, my alone time with my Heavenly Father was best depicted as me standing near Him (at a comfortably safe distance), hands in my pockets, making small talk. I had learned to be apprehensive around fathers. But as my spiritual journey continued I began to explore God's Word to found out more about Him. And the more I understood His true nature, the more I trusted Him. The more I trusted Him, the closer I drew to His side. Then one day, I found myself in His lap, basking in His tender embrace. I can't remember ever feeling that safe before.

I have come to know my Heavenly Father as He is described in Scripture. As my Hiding Place. My Refuge. My Protector. A Father who never misses an opportunity to show His kids just how much He loves them. In His lap I have found the intimacy I was searching for; intimacy that God meant for children to have with their fathers. What a gift.

God also gave my dad and our family a gift. The gift of sobriety. The last several years of my dad's life were alcohol-free. I'm eternally grateful that God brought about a degree of reconciliation between me and my dad. Although it didn't erase the painful memories, we made amends. 

In 1997, my dad passed away. As my siblings and I went through the difficult process of divvying up my parents' belongings I came across an unexpected treasure tucked away in a dresser drawer. It was a picture I had never seen before. Yet another image that triggered tears. It was a photo of me, on my first birthday, pre-addiction, sitting in my father's lap.

That picture is framed and displayed on a shelf in my office. It is my constant reminder that, even though alcoholism gave a very different message, my father loved me. And even if I had never experienced the love of an earthly father--a dilemma that far too many people in our world face--we can find safety in relationship with a Father who wants nothing more than to be close to His kids. In His lap is the safest place we could ever be.