I’m a baby boomer. My
Dad was in the Navy during World War II.
Growing up with my Father meant not saying anything and not doing
anything to cause a problem. Our
interactions were not warm, or caring, or intimate. He was distant and unapproachable. Many men of his generation were the same way. They were stoic men who rarely exhibited any
emotion and never cried. While my Dad
seemed charming and engaging to adults, to his son he was rigid. I was raised to be invisible and I tried my
best to be. Trying to find my way as a
small child was a challenge. While I
definitely knew the boundaries of life, I was never permitted to test
them. Which produced in me a fear of
exploration and a fear of attempting.
Learning that it is best to not do anything to call attention to myself,
I found ways of disappearing. My
favorite was to hide under the coffee table and observe. Sadly though I outgrew this hiding place and
there was not another that was nearly as safe and as comfortable. The lesson I learned was to build a wall
around me and then another wall around that wall. Whatever happens don’t let anything get near
you, especially emotions. “Be a man” I
heard when I was old enough to understand.
“Men don’t cry” was drilled into my small young consciousness. I was told to suck it up. To the best of my ability I did these things,
but I wanted more. I’m not certain
exactly when it was that I wanted more, but I remember thinking it. Breaking down the barriers of my life is what
I wanted. I was a very quiet rebel. On the outside there was a taunt veneer that
belied the turmoil within. Anger built
but it had no place to go, so it stayed within, a continually building cauldron
of anger. At the age of 30, my Dad
opened up to me and talked a little about his drinking and when it
started. In this revealing of things
from his past, he told me he loved me for the first time that I could
remember. My family didn't hug or kiss
or say I love you. How then does a small
child learn how to have the heart of a man?
Well, I didn't.
As a small child I remember raging terrifying
nightmares. The tormenting creatures
were dragon-like, massive in size with long sharp teeth. The night was filled with uncertainty and
fear. As I grew, the night became my
savior because I could disappear. I
remember playing games to see how well I could hide. Outside I would find strategic places to hide
so that when a car or someone walked by I could disappear into the
foliage. I had grown from abject fear of
the night to embracing the solitude of the night. Coming of age as a teenager, I remember
having strategic defensive items placed around the house. There was my baseball bat that I had placed
behind the sofa in the living room.
There was the wand to the vacuum cleaner that was behind a chair in the
family room. Interestingly my Dad was
not physically violent. He gave me 2
spankings during my childhood and I had earned both of them. Yet, I had a palpable fear of him. During his bouts of drinking his countenance
would become menacing and contoured. His
eyes would scream with anger. When he
looked at me my guts would rumble and a fear so real I thought I could touch
sprung from my small body. But a mad
all-encompassing rage built within me as well.
And it is this rage that caused me to place things around the house for
protection. I would imagine using them
on my Father, striking him again and again.
How then does a small child learn how to have the heart of a man? I didn't learn.
Growing to young adulthood the anger was well contained in a
very thick vault. On occasion it would
explode into view. When I was 18 I
became virtually self-sufficient with brief forays to my Aunt’s house. The damage from my youth was mostly hidden to
the outside world partly because I was so shy and inhibited that I did not
interact with people. People praised me
for being a good listener. Listening was
my way of coping with the shyness. I was
a good listener though and I would ask thoughtful questions that would keep the
conversation directed anywhere but at me.
People’s perception of me was that I was a good guy. Inside I still raged. I was so sensitive to people, including
strangers, that I often thought they were laughing at me. Rejection was the norm in my mind, not
because I was truly rejected but because I thought “who wouldn't reject
me”. The rejection and the shyness drove
me farther into myself. There was though
a spark somewhere deep within that wanted out of these dangerous and
destructive emotions. I would read 100
books a year, many of them self-help books.
I was looking for something that I could not find because I simply did
not know what I was looking for. There
was a drive that propelled me forward in my search, but I remained unfulfilled. In one of the self-help books there was a
reference to the book of Luke in the Bible.
At the age of 29 I bought my first Bible because the verse reference in
the self-help book resonated with me. I
still have the Bible today. It is a King
James Version with large print. Why the
large print? Probably because I needed to
be able to see it as clearly as possible.
But that didn't happen immediately or easily. Every day I would read the Bible, especially
Romans 8:24-28. Every day I would be
refreshed. Who wouldn't be? It is a beautifully written uplifting
book. For seven years I read it
daily. I knew it pretty well by
then. At a business meeting a close
friend conducted a Christian service.
Naturally I missed the service but I did show up in time to receive a
book he gave to everyone. It was a book
on prayer by Kenneth Copeland. Returning
to my home, I sat in a back bedroom and read it in one evening. Toward the end there was a prayer for
salvation. I prayed that prayer.
I sat quietly waiting.
What was it that I was to do now?
I prayed the prayer but there were no more instructions. There were no fireworks. There was no personal call from God. My body didn't tingle. So I sat and nothing happened or so I
thought. Moving from a mostly physical realm to the spiritual realm can take a
little time and a little discernment and maybe even a little imagination. Not thinking any more of it, I went to
bed. The next day I picked up the Bible
to read it and discovered someone had replaced it with an entirely new book
called the BIBLE. As I read the same
verses I had read before, the words came alive.
They had depth and nuances of meaning that had escaped me before. Such as it is when the Author of the Book is
now readily present to explain His words.
My heart opened and received these wondrous gifts of anointed Word
flowing unfiltered to my dry and hardened heart.
Soon after accepting Christ as my Savior, I had a
disagreement with someone that caused me to feel rejected. Over the years I had mentally recorded every
injustice done to me in the highest quality video. On those occasions when a new injustice would
present itself, I would go to my video vault and pull one down that was similar
in scope to the new injustice and play it.
Somehow this gave me some solace.
It was like saying, “See this is happening again, so it must be you.”
And another 100 pound sack would be added to the massive rejection pile that
had been erected around me. “Of course
no one likes you. Look around at how
often and how completely you have been rejected.” I reached in for a very familiar one only to
find that it was blank. I tried another
and it was blank as well. Searching
through my entire collection of rejection videos, I couldn't find one that had
not been erased. In the deepest part of
my spirit a soft but powerful sigh emerged.
Making its way through my mind to my heart, I found a sense of peace
that I had never known. “So this is what
that prayer of salvation was about”, I thought.
I felt love that day. A warm and
enveloping love that was tangible to me.
It has never left me. At the age
of 36 I felt love, real love for the first time.
The Father started to speak to me. I knew it was Him even if He was a little off
and funny. He told me He wanted me to
start a church. I barely knew Him and He
wanted me to start a church. Now that
was funny. So being the good child that
I am, I helped Him in what He really meant.
I was to go to a small church and see how I might be of help. Nine months after that conversation with God,
a couple moved next door who were starting a church. Six of us came together and started a
church. He wasn't so funny now. This touched my soul deeply and drew me even
further toward Him. There was a time
when I had a dispute with my wife.
Trying to go to sleep on the comfortable couch, He came to me and said,
“Go ask for forgiveness.” I was
indignant with my response, “You were there and you know I was right.” We went back and forth until finally I said,
“You’re not going to let me sleep are you.”
“Nope”, He said. So I got up just
so I could get some sleep. I didn't feel
love and I wasn't being obedient. I just
wanted to be left alone. Funny thing,
somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, my heart changed. I asked for forgiveness from my heart and
just as you might suspect, it was well received. And so it went, He would tell
me something to do and I would negotiate or tell Him He was wrong. He never was wrong, not once. One day I simply obeyed. There was no rationalization. There was no discussion. I simply obeyed. My relationship had turned from a distant
Father to a nurturing Dad who is ever-present.
A Dad who has never rejected me and always loved me fully and
unconditionally. A Dad who never brought
up my past mistakes and indiscretions. A
Dad who lovingly smiled at me when I would turn to Him. A Dad who never turns His back on me. A Dad who unceasingly encourages me. I have a Dad who has given me His heart so
that I might give it away. A Dad who has
shown me how to have the heart of a man.
I recommend Him highly to you if you don’t know Him. He wants to be your Dad, too.
