“Did you ever reconcile with your dad?” I was asked this question after last Sunday’s service, where I preached on the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15. In that sermon, I talked about the striking similarity between my life and that of the ungrateful younger son who demanded his half of the inheritance and left his home and father behind. I described how my dad kicked me out of the house when I was 17 after I became completely wild and unimaginable. I never ate with pigs, but I know what it’s like to be broke and hungry. Sometimes, all I had to eat was a tin of butter cookies that the local Sears gave out to anyone who applied for a credit card. That parable has always resonated deeply with me, not only in its description of the rebellion of the younger son, but also in his reconciliation with his father. When I was 27, I, too, came to my senses, became aware of my sin, and returned to my heavenly Father, embracing the gracious provision of his willing Son’s sacrifice for my sins. I was reconciled to my heavenly Father, but the lingering question was what had ever happened to my relationship with my earthly dad.
To be clear, I did not have a close relationship with him when I was growing up. He worked hard and spent long hours at various jobs to provide for our family, and his time was largely consumed by this endeavor. We talked very little throughout my childhood. In fact, I don’t recall a single memorable or meaningful conversation from when I was young. By the time I reached my teen years, my parents were headed for divorce, and by the time I was 16, my mom had left, and I lived with my father and my younger brother. Our relationship became deeply fractious, and I, an extremely angry teenager, wanted nothing to do with him, and he was completely fed up with me. In the years leading to my conversion, I would describe our relationship as polite but distant.
When God saved me in 2004, everything began to change. The anger and bitterness that had been central in my life began to evaporate. My heart began to soften toward others, including my dad. I experienced conviction over the ways I had sinned against him, and I sought to reconcile with him. This included apologizing for the Epiphone Les Paul guitar I stole from him and hocked at a nearby guitar store, along with a check to reimburse him. While we were never exactly close, we began to interact in more meaningful ways than I experienced in my childhood. He told me he was proud of me, and I thanked him for providing for our family and instilling a solid work ethic in me through his example. We tried our hand at brewing beer and spent several long afternoons working on what turned out to be fairly sub-par libations. Simply put, we became friends.
Sadly, my dad passed away suddenly in my mid-thirties. The police found him in the parking lot of a Tractor Supply store after he suffered a massive and fatal heart attack. I never got to say goodbye, but I’m so grateful that we experienced a measure of relational healing. Because I was reconciled to my heavenly Father, his grace overflowed into a restored relationship with my earthly dad. The Scriptures exhort us, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Rom. 12:18) While I regret the dishonor that I showed my dad in my early years, God was kind to us and provided a way for us to experience peace and friendship before he died.
I know what it’s like to be a rebel in a far country, and I know what it means to return home to my heavenly Father. Praise be to God that he also made a way for me to be restored to my dad!