A Father’s Cry

Father's Day can be meaningful, joyful, awkward, painful—or all of the above. For some men, it's a day surrounded by family, laughter, and gratitude. For others, it stirs up memories of loss, disappointment, and questions about what it truly means to be a good father.

I grew up on a farm, milking cows by hand, throwing hay bales, and tilling the soil with horses. I had a hardworking dad who taught me to work hard and was present. But there was still a wall between us. At the age of thirteen, I started to withdraw and look elsewhere for affirmation. I became the prodigal son, looking in all the wrong places for pleasure to ease my pain. I suppressed my deepest thoughts and emotions and just pushed through because vulnerability didn't feel safe.

After experiencing the tragic death of a special friend, I repented of my sinful lifestyle and was adopted into the family of God. Now I had the ultimate personal heavenly Father as my go-to for everything I needed.

Then I became a father myself, and all I knew about being a good father was that I did not want to be like my own. I later had to repent of that vow. It really hurt when my wife would say, "You're just like your dad."

Our culture tends to send confusing messages to men: Be strong, but don't cross into controlling. Be vulnerable and sensitive, but not weak. Many men try to provide for their families while quietly battling anxiety, shame, grief, exhaustion, or insecurity. Some feel disconnected from their wives and children but don't know how to bridge the gap.

In seminary, I learned the difference between a head connection and a heart connection. For the first time, I was in a safe space to open my heart, and all the emotions of the first forty years of my life began to spill over. My heart began to feel alive.

Many men have never had a safe space to talk honestly about any of their experiences. But healthy masculinity was never meant to look like emotional numbness or silent endurance. You can be a man of steel and velvet, as they were never supposed to compete with each other. Some of the strongest men I've known are men who learned how to listen well, apologize sincerely, grieve deeply, love patiently, and walk in authentic manhood.

Later, my father shared his story with me. He told me how distant he felt from his own dad, and for the first time in my life, I saw my father cry. He shared how it felt growing up as a young boy without his dad truly being there for him. We wept together as the wall between us began to come down, brick by brick. It was a bond we cherished until he passed on to meet his heavenly Father.

Father's Day can be a time of reflection. Do I need to make peace with my past? Offer forgiveness? Ask honest questions about the path I'm on? Am I a well-grounded man? A man who lives with courage, compassion, integrity, and honesty?

If you're feeling stuck, disconnected, or simply ready for deeper growth, you do not have to navigate that journey alone. Healthy change begins with honest conversation, and sometimes that conversation can open the door to an entirely different direction.

Wherever you find yourself this Father's Day, I hope you know this: restoration is possible. Growth is possible. Healing is possible. And it's never too late to walk in authentic manhood.