Father’s Day weekend has a way of making us stop and reflect on the men who shaped our lives. This year, I found myself thinking deeply about my own father.
My dad was a very stoic man. He wasn’t someone who expressed a lot of emotion or openly shared his feelings. Growing up, I didn’t see a lot of him. There were years when alcohol, running around, and living for himself took priority over being the father I needed.
But something changed during my teenage years.
As I was transitioning from thinking like a child to beginning to understand what it meant to become a man, my father made a decision that would change the course of both of our lives. He made a conscious choice to walk away from alcohol, leave behind the bar life, and pursue a life of sobriety and faith.
That decision changed my entire world.
My father did the hard work. He didn’t just say he wanted to change—he lived it. He started making up for lost time. He began rebuilding the relationship that years of selfish choices had damaged.
The man I grew up with was becoming a different man.
He was becoming my father.
He became present. He showed up. He made choices based on what was right, not what was easy. Over the next several years, we were at church every time the doors were open. I watched my dad make difficult decisions and pursue a life that honored God.
It was the greatest transformation I had ever witnessed.
I remember thinking, “If God can change my father, maybe He can change me too.”
That realization became a turning point in my own life. Watching my father surrender his life to Christ inspired me to pursue a life fully dedicated to God.
I wish I could say the transition was easy for me. It wasn’t.
I made mistakes. I stumbled. I had my own struggles and failures.
But my father loved me through the mess.
He gave me wisdom. He corrected me when I needed it. He helped redirect the path I was walking. He showed me that love is not always about having the perfect words—it is often about being there when someone needs you most.
One thing I have learned over the years is that we never truly know what life looks like through someone else’s eyes.
I noticed that our family was different from many of the families we saw at church. I saw other families hug, express affection, and openly show love toward one another. That wasn’t really how my dad and I interacted.
One evening, it was just the two of us, and I asked him a sincere question.
“Hey Dad, I’ve noticed a lot of people at church hug their families and show affection. I was just wondering… why don’t we really do things like that?”
I didn’t realize at the time that I was opening the door to a conversation that would impact me for the rest of my life.
My dad leaned back in his chair and looked off into the distance. I could tell that what he was about to say carried a lot of weight.
He began sharing pieces of his childhood with me—things I never knew. He told me about the pain and brokenness he experienced growing up and the things he had witnessed and endured in his own family.
Most of it revolved around sexual abuse…
As he talked, I began to understand something about my father.
The reason he struggled to show affection wasn’t because he didn’t love us.
It was because he was determined to make sure we never experienced the pain he had experienced.
At the end of the conversation, he looked at me and said something I will never forget. He told me he never wanted his children to feel the way he had felt, and maybe he had gone too far in the opposite direction.
That moment changed the way I saw him.
I realized that, in his own way, that was my father showing love. He was protecting us the best way he knew how. He was breaking a cycle. He was doing the hard things so his children wouldn’t have to.
I didn’t get as many years with my father after his transformation as I would have liked. But the years I did have with him changed me forever.
He taught me what it means to fight for your family.
He taught me that change is possible.
He taught me that God can redeem what seems broken.
And most importantly, he taught me that fathers don’t have to be perfect to make a difference. They just have to be willing to do the hard work.
Dad, I love you. I miss you.
I’m so thankful that God gave me the opportunity to know you—not just as the man who raised me, but as the man you became.
Happy Father’s Day.