Is God the Father Like My Father?

I was 25 years old before I could comfortably say the word “father” during my prayers. That word felt alien to me. It didn’t flow naturally from my lips as it did for many of my Christian friends. It was like a word from a foreign language; on one hand, it seemed meaningless, like gibberish. But on the other hand, it carried a multitude of deeply personal and often painful connotations. Due to my personal experiences and cultural barriers, the word “father” struck a raw nerve. It represented all the things that a parent should not be, and yet I was supposed to use this word when addressing a God who I was told was the complete opposite of my earthly father. How could I call God by a name that, for most of my life, had no positive meaning for me, especially when I knew that the Bible described God in ways that were so different from what the word “father” meant to me? It was like trying to call an apple an orange; the two just didn’t seem to fit together.

Sure, I knew theologically that God was a Father, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was anything like my own father.

Fearing the Comparison

In the Bible, the family unit serves as an analogy to help us understand how God relates to us, his children. We know that, similar to the father in the parable of the prodigal son, God welcomes us back into his presence through the sacrifice of Christ. He longs for a relationship with us and cares deeply for us. We understand the nature of love because God loved us first. In Christ’s prayer in John 17, we learn that God desires for us to be with him, as a family. In this sense, our earthly fathers are meant to give us a glimpse, a “shadow,” of what God the Father is really like.

Typically, dads want to be with their children. They want to spend quality time, take care of them, and show them love. They want their children to know how far they would go to protect them and what they would do if they ever lost them. This is the ideal role of a father.

However, for those who have had difficult experiences with their earthly fathers, the idea that God is like a dad isn’t always good news. We’re afraid of the “shadow” that God’s fatherhood casts, because it’s linked to our terrifying experiences with our own dads. How can we approach God without fear when we’re scared to be at home with our own fathers? How can we comprehend God’s love and faithfulness when our dads left us because they loved someone or something else more? How can we see God as a strong protector when our dads hurt us instead of comforting us? How can we trust God as a reliable foundation when our dads filled us with disappointment and insecurity?

It’s truly disheartening that the very concept that God intended to reflect his love, mercy, and faithfulness is the same thing that keeps many people from seeking comfort in their heavenly Father’s embrace. Even at almost 31 years old, I still struggle daily with this. It’s a constant battle to trust that God thinks of me differently from how my dad did. I constantly fight the urge to assume that God enjoys disciplining me more than blessing me, and to stop myself from believing that God is angry with me more often than he is pleased with me. Some days, this internal struggle feels overwhelmingly exhausting.

A Path to Hope

What transformed my perspective was a shift in my approach. I needed to reorient my thinking in order to trust the Lord and call him Father with confidence. What I mean is that instead of looking at my earthly father and then trying to compare God to him, I learned to look at God first. I realized that if I didn’t view God as the ultimate source of fatherhood, I would always be off – kilter. If I didn’t start with God, I would always see him as a copy of my earthly father, rather than the perfect original.

This shift involved turning to Scripture to fill my mind with the true nature of God, rather than relying on the negative associations I had with my earthly father. Through God’s gracious Word, I discovered that he delights in showing mercy. He doesn’t hold onto anger. He takes my mistakes and covers them through the sacrifice of his Son. Since his grace and mercy are renewed every day, I don’t have to be afraid to approach him. I can run to him freely and with confidence. Moreover, God doesn’t constantly remind me of my flaws; he treats me with unending grace. Through Christ, he has made it possible for me to know and have a relationship with him. He is accessible; he isn’t hiding, and he didn’t abandon me. In fact, he actively sought me out to rescue me from my brokenness. He has never given up on me.

In the person of Jesus, I see that the Father is not hiding. On the cross, God proved that he came for me. On the cross, he showed that, unlike any earthly fatherly figure I’ve known, he always keeps his promises and fulfills his commitments.

A Safe Harbor Awaits

So, don’t shy away from Scripture. Immerse yourself in it. I’ve come to realize that my heavenly Father is truly unlike any earthly dad I’ve ever had. He isn’t angry. He isn’t waiting for me to mess up so he can punish me. Instead, he’s waiting to shower me with his mercy and grace.

This doesn’t mean the journey has been easy; it’s been filled with fear and uncertainty. But God’s wonderful fatherhood can and should be like a lighthouse that guides us through the darkest storms and the roughest seas. It can rescue us from the overwhelming waters.

So, take control. Make the decision to change direction. Turn your life towards God and move forward with full force. Let the fatherhood of God be the guiding light that leads you safely to the harbor, rather than the waves that keep you lost at sea.

Go to God, your true and safe haven. Trust me; it’s a place of safety and love.

Editors’ note: If you’ve experienced the pain of parental divorce, are going through it now, or know someone who is/has, Jonathan’s new book, Left: The Struggle to Make Sense of Life When a Parent Leaves (Rainer Publishing, 2016), is for you.