Despite My Father, I Believe

by Lara d’Entremont

One summer in high school, I spent a weekend at a friend’s summer camp with her parents. I kept myself at arm’s distance from her dad because I knew what dads were like. But over the weekend, it was her dad who towed us with his speed boat, helped cook meals, and drove me out to meet my mother. Her father spoke to me with nice laughter, patience, and kindness. When I couldn’t pull myself up onto the kneeboard and wanted to give up after the second try, he told me to keep trying. He never got impatient. During the drive home, he talked to me about faith and encouraged me to not give up hope for my unbelieving parents to be saved. 

I thought he was weird—because that’s not how fathers are supposed to be, right? 

Then I met my boyfriend’s father, and I found someone very similar to my friend’s dad. He wanted to talk to me about missions because he was so passionate about it. When I didn’t understand something about his work, he’d explain it to me in a way that made sense without condescension. He spent time with us. He asked questions about my interests and how I became a believer. Again, this guy seemed weird and didn’t make sense with how I had always known the definition of “father” to be.

What was my definition of a father? Let me give you a glimpse of my “normal.”

My father took every opportunity he could to poke holes in my faith and cause me to question it. He called Bible studies and prayer meetings “séances.” He told me I was being brain-washed at Sunday School. He scoffed at my church attendance. He humiliated me for every TV show I watched telling me it would make me “demented.” He called me “that kid” rather than by name. He called me “retarded” because I didn’t understand his horseback riding lessons. 

You can only imagine how I battled to believe a heavenly Father could exist who didn’t treat his children the way my father did. I read passages like Hebrews 12 about God’s fatherly discipline, and I cowered. God’s faithfulness didn’t seem plausible either. How could a father not get annoyed, frustrated, and distant from me? How could a father put up with me and all my flaws? Taking God at his Word meant undoing my version of normal and asking God to help my unbelief. 

Friend, I can only stand here still clinging to faith because of God. Despite my wicked earthly father, I believe. Despite my dad, God carried me along. God did this work, not me. If God had left me, I’d call God a cruel tyrant like my earthly dad. Yet please don’t believe my fighting and grappling are over. I still must fall before my Heavenly Father and cry, “I believe; help my unbelief!” regularly. What I had known for so long as “normal” takes a long time to unlearn. 

Over the years, I’ve come to learn a new normal. As I watch my husband kneel on the floor with our kids to play with them, listen to him congratulate even their small victories, and watch him discipline them from a place of love rather than anger, I’m learning that this is the real normal. As I watch my father-in-law play with our kids and listen to him patiently answer their questions, I smile. This is what a real father is like. In the love moving in these relationships, I’m reminded that this is a much smaller and imperfect picture of how my heavenly Father loves not only me but each of them as well.

Dear reader, if you’re facing the pain of an evil earthly father, don’t lose heart. God is all that he promises to be and nothing like your earthly dad; cry out to God and ask for faith. He does not turn away those who seek him. He is no tyrant or villain; he’s a good, gracious, perfect Father. I’ll leave you with this picture of our Heavenly Father from John Calvin from The Institutes:

Those bound by the yoke of the law are like servants assigned certain tasks for each day by their masters. These servants think they have accomplished nothing and dare not appear before their masters unless they have fulfilled the exact measure of their tasks. But sons, who are more generously and candidly treated by their fathers, do not hesitate to offer them incomplete and half-done and even defective works, trusting that their obedience and readiness of mind will be accepted by their fathers, even though they have not quite achieved what their fathers intended. Such children ought we to be, firmly trusting that our services will be approved by our most merciful Father, however small, rude, and imperfect these may be.

Where our fathers may have criticized and spoken to us with cruel words, our Heavenly Father looks at us with tenderness and speaks to us with love. He loves us not based on how good we can be, but because we are his children, bought by the blood of Christ. When your heart feels weak, pray for God to bolster your faith to believe him.

Lara d’Entremont is a wife and mom to three from Nova Scotia, Canada. Lara is a writer and learner at heart—always trying to find time to scribble down some words or read a book. She has been published with The Gospel Coalition, Risen Motherhood, Well-Watered Women, and Common Good, among others. Her desire in writing is to help women develop solid theology they can put into practice—in the mundane, the rugged terrain, and joyful moments. You can find more of her writing at laradentremont.com.