A Father I Can Trust

The night my father attacked my sister marked the beginning of the end of our relationship. As I recall that night, I can still feel the moments that followed—I was eighteen, in my dorm room, when the message flashed across AOL Instant Messenger: “Dad is trying to kill me.” I raced home and pounded on my parents’ door with no answer, terrified she was dead. Before I realize it, I am in a full flashback, reliving that night when I barricaded us in my basement bedroom, while she wept herself to sleep. As she wept, I learned that my sister tried to protect my mother and baby sister from him, and he attempted to seriously harm her. She was able to escape.

Knowing what I know now, my mom, sisters, and I should have been separated from him immediately. This was not the first time that we were afraid of my father; his power and control were an entrenched pattern in our household. However, this instance was the most frightening. Although he did not touch my sister, his intent was clear—the message he sent was that he could seriously harm or kill her if she did not fall in line. People helpers trained in abuse, or now more accurately named coercive control, should have been involved in healing work for all of us. The church should have been promoting safety, but my church was not actively involved in helping families. This was the early 2000s, and there was little training or societal understanding at the time. Despite the lack of information and resources, my mother stood firm on the necessity of counseling if the family was to stay together. 

I tried to continue a relationship with my father through his refusal to get help and my parents’ divorce. I remember thinking to myself that he was my father, and I could not abandon him. He was a trauma survivor, as well. I had no wise boundaries and engaged in a pattern of trying to fix him, which had become my role as the eldest daughter. At that point, I did not yet understand that God is the healer and my dad would need to turn to him for healing and change. Eventually, I ended my relationship with him due to his lack of involvement with my youngest sister, who was seven at the time. It was a snap decision, and I had no framework for evaluating relationships. I was just done. 

After my son was born, I contacted him. Once again, I made choices without a framework to assess evidence of repentance through heart change.¹ I just wanted to have my dad involved in my son’s life. Despite his coercive control, I loved him. Although his behavior was never truly healthy, years later it deteriorated significantly, and I had some difficult choices to make. At this point in my life, I had a deep relationship with the Lord, had been in Christian clinical counseling for many years, and had become a biblical counselor myself. I finally had the Lord at the center of my decision-making process and a robust Scripturally-based toolbox. 

While considering how to move forward, I tried my best to use biblical decision-making principles.¹ I discussed it with my Father many times, grieved the situation alongside him through countless tears, studied Scripture, sought wise counsel, and drew on hard-earned wisdom from my life experiences. Using these principles, I met with my counselor and together we created a plan. If my dad were willing to see his own counselor and make enough progress to safely meet with a third party present, then we could start working with my counselor toward reconciliation. Unfortunately, my father did not choose to seek out the Lord or counseling care, and we were unable to move past the first step. I had to set and enforce strong boundaries as he did not respect my requests for relational distance. With his current choices, I continue to lift him up in prayer to draw close to the Lord, engage in counseling care, and I love him from afar. Although I will always grieve the relationship, it was a comfort that, this time, I made the decision together with God. A wise friend of mine often quotes Oliver Wendell Holmes, “For the simplicity on this side of complexity, I wouldn't give you a fig. But for the simplicity on the other side of complexity, for that I would give you anything I have.” Walking through this process of finding simplicity on the other side of complexity with the Lord brought a deep peace to my heart, although I will always miss my dad.

1. See the following resources for further guidance: Is It Abuse? by Darby Strickland; Navigating Destructive Relationships by Brad Hambrick. ↩︎

Editor’s Note: The author of this post has chosen to remain anonymous. We share their story with permission and gratitude.