| A LETTER TO MY DAD IN HEAVEN Dear Father: You know I grew up with a dad who was distant and silent. I realize now that this was true of many men who came out of WWII and he did the best he knew. But he never let me into his heart and I could never reach him. I never knew where I stood with him. I never knew if he loved me or was proud of me. The only times he seemed to like me was when I was doing a job for him—when I was useful. I remember one hurtful morning when I came in from a seven-mile run with the city cross country champion. I felt good about the discipline of rising early and running, and I was excited that I was able to stay up with such a good runner. I thought my dad would a least smile at my accomplishment, but when I burst through the door, he never looked up from his paper and asked with a critical tone, “What did you do that for?” I went to my room crushed. I thought I had done something he could be proud of, but he didn’t even notice. We lived in a beautiful home in an affluent area and he was a good provider, for which I am grateful. He died in his fifty-sixth year in 1968 and I have never cried about his death. It was like a stranger died. He seemed like an unhappy man. He became a doctor because it was expected—coming from three generations of MD’s. But I think he was an engineer at heart. He used to come home from the office as early as possible to build radios and bridges. I never knew what he was thinking. The only serious conversation we had was when I was heading off to the So off I went to college, not knowing why I was there. So I partied to escape my insecurities and fears. But self was a cruel master and I became addicted to lust. I came to the end of myself and, in desperation, I adopted you, Father, as my new Master. I don’t know if you found me or I found you. It’s probably more the former, but in either case I was lost. So I gave my messy life to you to fix to see what you could do with it. But I brought a lot of baggage into this new relationship. For a couple of years, I thought you were like my dad. I thought you were distant and unreachable just like him. I joined Campus Crusade for Christ to “make myself useful.” to you (as well as avoid being drafted into the Vietnam war). I thought if I “led a lot of people to Christ,” you would like me and I would measure up and earn your approval. But the staff of Campus Crusade around me had greater numbers than I did, so I assumed I was a failure—again. This time I was a failure in Christian work, not college. I thought Bible reading was to get my orders for the day and go do a “job” for you. Then you would give me my grade for the day—usually a C- just like my college scores. I never felt like I measured up, and you didn’t like me because I was a failure in the “Christian life.” I was taught the way of grace, not law, but I still kept trying to toe the mark but couldn’t quite make it. I couldn’t climb up the ladder to your heart. Then you began to show me you were not like my dad. You gave me mentors: Ken, Jim, and Chuck who taught me to be honest with you and listen to you. I learned you liked me to be real, not a phony. I began to read your Word to get to know you instead of finding out how to perform for you. You taught me to pick up a pen and keep a journal. In honest reflection, I got to know you and got to know myself. I was finding out who I was as I got to know you. You introduced me to some of your friends: C. S. Lewis, Devern Fromke, Leo Tolstoy, Blaise Pascal, Paul Tournier, Malcolm Muggeridge, G. K. Chesterton, Francis Schaeffer, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Paul. They became credible witnesses telling more about you and your love, grace, and truth. I thank you for them. You knew I doubted your love for me, so you began to demonstrate it in unusual ways that I could understand. You blessed me when I didn’t deserve it. You sent me money on days I was acting like a jerk. You drew even closer when I was angry and cursing at you. You told me you loved me while I was sitting in a porn theater. I began to get the idea that you really did like me despite my failure to measure up. Then there was that wonderful time you assured me I was your son. I was sitting in a hotel lobby reading Fromke’s Ultimate Intention. His words came from your heart to mine, “If you had a son in whom you had unspeakable delight, wouldn’t it be your greatest desire to have more like him?” My heart responded, “Yes!” I realized you made me because you wanted me. I knew Jesus was “the” Son, but now I had become “a” son. It amazed me how you could conform me to the image of your son, yet retain my uniqueness. I love this about you. I know I still have issues of insecurity and rejection that pop up frequently. I still sometimes punish myself to gain your forgiveness. I still want to be liked and get depressed when I am not. And I still fight the feeling of failure. BUT, Father, Big Brother, and Teacher (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit), you have become my best friends. I know I don’t have to fake it anymore to gain your acceptance. I know you like “real.” I know I can be honest with you and you still love me. I don’t have to be “religious” to connect with you. I am free to be transparent with others, knowing I am secure with you. I am always welcome at your table even after my fits of anger against you for not doing things my way. I want to thank you for talking to me and for your letter to us, the Bible. Your Word has satisfied my longing for depth while living in this shallow, plastic world. I thank you for speaking the truth in a world of lies. I thank you for sharing your wisdom and counsel. You tell me the way it is and lead me into reality through a world of illusions. Even your “hard truth” and “tough love” set me free. I thank you for not turning me over to myself. I want to thank you for this universe you created for us to enjoy. I feel your love in the gifts you have given—the stars, the earth, the trees, the clouds, the birds, and every grain of sand. Each person is a unique gift from you even though some of them are like bottles of medicine to form my character. I want to thank you for inviting me into the ultimate inner circle. You included me in the best “in group” without demands to conform to confusing expectations and religious opinions. You allowed me to join your family as myself. I tried to get into the “in groups” in Campus Crusade, churches, and Promise Keepers, but you always blocked me, because you knew I wouldn’t fit. I was angry, thinking I was rejected again, but realized you had my best interests at heart. You prepared a special place for me where I fit—at your side with your friends. You assured me that I belonged to you. I know you can handle any situation when I can’t and when I have no motivation to try. You have been faithful to come through every time I have let go of my futile efforts to fix things, others, and myself. Thank you for being THE “fixer.” One of my greatest pleasures is to sit with you alone and tell you “like it is” and listen to you in the quiet. You say such profound and timely words in silence. You have been, and continue to be, a wonderful provider, especially in these past two decades when I have had no job or church to pay me. Without asking for funds, you have paid for everything. You have been the best employer. You have brought me into a secure kingdom in the middle of the world’s towers of I know I still struggle in misunderstanding and loneliness. But the “fellowship of your sufferings” deepens our friendship. My ultimate desire is to be your friend. When I read that Abraham was “the friend of God,” I wanted that to be my epitaph also. For a long time, I was not impressed with heaven. It sounded like just another pretty place with nothing to do and no more to learn. I didn’t really want to go there except to escape the evil and lies of the world. But now I know heaven is not just a pretty place. It’s where you are. Heaven is being with you and I have already started to live there—here. Thank you again for being such a great Father and Friend to me. I look forward to getting to know you better. Sincerely, Your son, Jim |