(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.

While my Christian school classmates were seemingly bounding through life, bolstered by a strong sense of security and self-worth, confident that God had a bright future in store for them, my life's motto through adolescence stood in stark contrast. My maxim as a child : If you always expect the worst, you'll never be disappointed.

Rainbows and unicorns were conspicuously absent from my childhood. My morbid mantra was formed by the prevailing despair, dejection, and despondence that is sadly common in children growing up in dysfunctional environments.

Strange as it may seem, for kids growing up in troubled homes, following a caustic credo like mine can actually be beneficial. It can protect children from further heartbreak.

• ​If you tell yourself that Mom's depression will once again prevent your family from going on vacation, you can then be pleasantly surprised when she's feeling well enough to go.
• If you assume your dad will come home drunk and you'll have to miss the Father-Son Outing at church, it won't hurt as much when he stumbles into the house long after you were supposed to leave.
• If you convince yourself that you will have to watch the softball game at recess because neither team will want you to play it will seem strangely satisfying to hear, "I guess we'll take you."

One way to be sure your dreams won't be dashed is to simply not allow yourself to dream. 

But while expecting the worst can, in actuality, help us as children, it does nothing but hurt us as adults. Continuing to go through life anticipating a never ending series of disappointments will not only prove devastating to our sense of self-worth, it has the potential to destroy our relationships, including our relationship with God.   

A "what next?" mentality leads to cynicism and pessimism. It can make us sarcastic and distrusting. It fosters doubt and defeatism. These kinds of character traits can prove toxic to our relationship with God and others. The end result: a life of despair.

But despair has never been a part of  God's plan for His children. Rather, He offers us the antidote to despair: hope. In the book of Jeremiah the Lord declares, For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (29:11)
 
Hope is more than just wishful thinking (e.g. I hope I'll be happy one day). It is ironclad confidence that God is who He says He is. Our Protector. Our Provider. Our Fortress. The Lifter of our Heads (Ps. 3:3).

Hope looks beyond our preconceived notions and holds firmly to the truth about God's character as presented in His Word:

• When we expect Him to reject, He accepts.
• When we expect Him to condemn, He commends.
• When we expect Him to blame, He blesses.

Hope is also confidence that we are who He says we are. His prized possessions. His beloved children. Heirs to His riches. His chosen ones.
 
God has great affection for us, particularly those of us who have known rejection. He wants to free us from despair because despair prevents us from having true intimacy with Him. He wants to remove the chip from our shoulders and replace it with Jesus' robes of righteousness.

Even when we expect the worst, God offers us His best. When we open ourselves to Him, He is willing and able to change our attitudes so that we can take in His gifts of love,  grace, healing, and peace. That is power of hope.

​Shame is the feeling that we are defective; the pervading sense that we are undeserving of good things in life; that we are unworthy of love. 

Shame can be the result of growing up in families that were highly critical; where love had stipulations. Shame is the byproduct of churches that concentrate on our being “wretches” rather than celebrate our being recipients of God’s amazing grace. Shame can also come from our deceiving ourselves by believing that if we do bad things it is because we are bad.

Shame is the quicksand of the soul. Shame puts our lives in peril. It pulls us farther and farther away from God as it causes us to sink lower and lower into despair. The more we fight it, the more we fail. The more we fail, the deeper we sink.

Our shame, whether it can be attributed to loveless parents, graceless churches, or our relentless selves, can all be traced to the same source: Satan himself. The Bible calls him “the father of lies.” It is his voice we hear that says:

• You don’t deserve to be loved.

• You’re nothing but a wretched sinner.

• God will never forgive you.

Every false message we receive has the devil’s return address on it. He weighs us down with his lies, seeking to immobilize us in our pursuit of a godly life. His mission, stated in John 10:10, is simple: to steal and kill and destroy. He seeks to steal our sense of worth, kill our spirit, and destroy any relationship we have with God. Shame can accomplish all that.

There is but one thing that will save us from being swallowed in the muck of shame. We must grab hold of God’s truth. We must let His love lift us. We must believe with everything in us the messages He whispers in our ears:

• You are my child (John 1:12-13)

•  I love you dearly ( Col. 3:12)

• You are wonderfully made (Psalm 139:13-16)

• I have chosen you to be mine (1 Pet. 2:9)

• You are fully forgiven (Col. 2:13-14)

• In my eyes you are holy and blameless (Eph. 1:4-5)

• I have the peace and hope you’re desperate for (Rom. 5:1-2)

Because of His great love for us God sent His Son into the world to free us from sin and shame. When we struggle with self-worth, when we are brought down by the devil’s lies, when we find ourselves sinking in faulty thinking, our only lifeline is Immanuel, God with us; He is there, kneeling at our side, seeking to save us from harmful, shameful thoughts. Once we take hold of Him and cling to His truth, we will be free.

Once we’ve discovered the peace and hope He longs to give us, may we look back and say as David reflected in Psalm 40, “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”

Some friends of ours had their house broken into a few weeks ago. Among the items stolen were their flat-screen TV, their laptop, their DVD player, monitors, and video equipment. They experienced the typical feelings people experience when things like this happen--dismay, fear, sadness, anger, helplessness.

But the loss of their camera in the robbery evoked intensely deeper emotions.

On that camera were family photos. Pictures of their two-year-old's birthday party. The visual announcement that they were expecting a new baby. Photos of a grandfather who may not be with them much longer. Images that cannot be replaced. 

Stealing the camera made the perpetrators' violation infinitely more personal. It left our friends with a sick pain in the the pit of their stomachs; a shadowy uneasiness. Having their house broken into and their TV stolen made them feel defeated. Having their camera stolen made them feel defiled. It crossed a deeply personal boundary.

This scenario illustrates the difference between being abused and being sexually abused.

A past that includes verbal or physical abuse often evokes feelings of dismay, fear, sadness, anger, and helplessness. Such abuse is a clear violation. It is grossly unfair. Reprehensible. But, without minimizing the effects of verbal or physical abuse, experiencing sexual abuse is different.

Sexual abuse is personal. Those who have been abused sexually are left feeling desecrated, dishonored. Sexual abuse victims are robbed of treasures that cannot be replaced: value, dignity, innocence.

Perhaps the one thing that differentiates victims of sexual abuse from those who have been abused verbally or physically is a pervading, sometimes debilitating sense of shame. Sexual abuse should result in shame. But shame felt by the perpetrator. Yet all too often it is the victim who takes on shame. Shame that, sometimes decades after the abuse was inflicted, continues to break and enter their soul and steal their worth, security, and peace.

Victims of sexual abuse, particularly if the abuse occurred when they were children, often take on blame for what happened. They tell themselves that the abuse was their fault; that they somehow deserved it, or perhaps even invited it. And shame begins to cast its murky shadow over their lives.

​Shame is dirty. It leaves a mark on people. But it's a mark that is often not visible to others. It is a smudge on a person's soul. Those who bear it feel filthy. And for the victim it is often a grossly undeserved consequence of having been sexually abused.

But there is good news. Help is available.

It is critical for those who have experienced sexual abuse to find a good therapist who will help them identify and process feelings they may have repressed for years. It is also important that those who have been abused learn how to set healthy boundaries in their lives--to say yes to people who will help them and no to relationships that will harm them.

But the key to finding lasting freedom from the horrific effects of sexual abuse is to conquer shame.

It is not God's intent for His children to live lives of pain, misery, and regret--the inevitable result of living in the shadow of shame. So He has set out to restore us. To make us new. To take what is wrong and make it right. To fix what is broken and make it whole again. It's what He does.  

We silence the voice of  shame when we not only hear but believe God's words of truth about us:

• You are good.
• You are prized.
• I delight in you.
• You matter deeply.
• You have incredible worth.

The more attuned we are to His tender voice, the more we will experience the healing we long for. 

Ever feel like no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you just don't measure up?

This is a common trait of those who grew up in highly dysfunctional environments--particularly those with alcoholic or ultra-rigid parents. Mothers and fathers who are chemically addicted and/or highly critical often produce children who try desperately to earn approval--from their parents, teachers, peers, coaches, or just about anyone who gives them attention.

It is not a characteristic they simply outgrow.

Many attention-starved kids grow up to become attention-starved adults. They buy into the lie that their self-worth is dependent on two things: what they do and what people say about what they do.

And they always seem to come up short.

They go through life with a pervading sense that no matter how well they perform they will never be good enough; that they will always be found lacking; that they will never meet the expectations of others.

I am one of those people. At least I was.

In my seemingly never-ending quest for acceptance I stumbled upon a phenomenon called "unconditional love." Having been a regular attender of Sunday School, I had learned at a very early age that God loves His children unconditionally. I knew about unconditional love. But, due to some pretty faulty thinking, I had never experienced it.

First of all, I grew up believing that all love had conditions. There were always strings attached. I couldn't be loved until the expectations of others were met. Love had to be earned.

Secondly, I had developed some defective beliefs about God. I viewed my Heavenly Father through the lens of my alcoholic dad. As a result, I believed that God was just another father I couldn't please; another father who looked at me and shook His head in disappointment, another father who withheld His love from me until I got it right.

Once I came to understand the truth about my Heavenly Father and His love for me everything changed. I experienced unrestricted, unqualified, unquestionable approval for the first time in my life. I finally and fully grasped the fact that my Heavenly Father’s love for me carries no expectations. That there are no strings attached. That His love cannot possibly be earned.

I remember vividly the thrill of cradling my first grandchild after he was born. And as I held him close and looked at that sweet face I found myself overflowing with love for him. I realized there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. And what exactly had he done to earn that kind of love? Absolutely nothing. At just a few weeks old pretty much all he did was eat, sleep, and poop. I loved him not because of anything he had done. I loved and continue to love him because of who he is: he’s my grandson.

That is a picture of how our Heavenly Father loves us. He loves us freely and fully with no strings attached. He loves us even when we smell and need to be changed. He loves us so much there is nothing He wouldn’t do for us. He loves us not because of what we've done, He loves us because of who we are: we're His kids.

I no longer live seeking to measure up in the eyes of others. I have been deemed good enough by a Father who is fully pleased with me just as I am.

If we base our value on the opinions of others--which can change like the wind--we are destined for a life of disappointment and dejection. We have worth because of what the Creator of the Universe--who never changes--says about us. He thinks the world of us. He not only made us in His image He has paid a very high price to spend all eternity with us.