Father Wound...and Beyond (eBook)

Introduction

Gentlemen, I believe the number one problem in our world today is the failure of a father to love his child. A father has an effect on a child like no other person in the world. A father has the authority to stamp onto his child’s heart one of two powerful messages: “My dad loves me” or “My dad does not love me.” When a child experiences a deficiency of love from the number one male caregiver in his or her life, an emotional injury can develop that often leads to various emotional, psychological, spiritual, and physical disorders. These negative conditions can bring about an internal personal conflict, as well as external conflicts with others. These conflicts will continue to perpetuate until emotional healing occurs.

Why do I believe this to be the most significant crisis of our current times? Because a huge portion of fathers in the world today have abandoned their duties as a father. When a child feels the abandonment of a father’s love, he or she often becomes confused and angry. Confusion leads to bad choices. Anger leads to damaged relationships. Confusion does not bring about good marriages and anger can destroy good marriages. Both can poison a marriage before it starts or damage one irreparably in the end. Good marriages bring healthy children into the world, and the human family—man, woman, and child—form the foundation of a good society. A father initiates marriage and family. It begins with him, and its success is based upon his dedication to the family. Men, I believe with all my heart that we’re not doing so well in this area in our world today.

A father has an effect on a child like no one else. When you got into trouble as a kid, why did mom say, “Wait until your father gets home?” Dad has the final say. No one can overrule the judgment calls he makes. No one is stronger, faster, braver, or smarter than dad. He is the ultimate in courage and strength in our world.

Think about the fathers in history: the biblical patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob; the early Church Fathers, St. Clement, St. Ignatius of Antioch, St. Irenaeus, St. Augustine; the Founding Fathers of the United States, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson. These men, when imparting their praiseworthy virtues during the pinnacle of their lives, brought greatness to the people of their times. None of these fathers were perfect, but their substantial influence changed the world for the better.

We, as fathers, also have the ability to massively influence those placed in our care. We have been given this responsibility by our Father in heaven. All authority and power comes from God the Father. He created everything out of nothing and called it good. He laid down the laws of the universe. The movement of every galaxy to the movement of every electron obeys the rules laid down by the Father. And we, as fathers, are given this power and authority for good. What we do and say, or what we fail to do and say—for and to our children—has consequences for years and decades to come.

A father’s failure to love a child can take place in basically two ways: abuse or neglect. Abuse can be physical, psychological, sexual, verbal, or emotional. Neglect is the absence of a father’s duty to care for all of his child’s physical and emotional needs. Abuse is the sin of commission. Neglect is the sin of omission.

This deep and lasting pain is what I call the father wound. I define the father wound as the long-term emotional pain a person suffers caused by the abandonment of a father’s love. This wound is a major epidemic in our world today, and it is having devastating consequences everywhere. Many of us have not only passed this wound onto our own children, but we have also suffered this wound from our own fathers. Genetics are passed down to the next generation, and so are the wounds through generational sin.

So, I have a question for you: On a scale of one to ten, with ten being “great,” and one being “not good at all,” how would you rate your childhood relationship with your earthly father?

Growing up, I lived in an old farmhouse built in the early 1900s. My three brothers and I shared a 12x12-foot bedroom upstairs, with two sets of bunk beds. The floors throughout the house were two-inch hardwood. When I was about 12, our old house had a small renovation done. We had linoleum flooring installed in the dining room, with a glossy finish, and a golden design on an off-white background. I am sure Mom and Dad were proud of the new look, especially since they rarely had any money for such luxuries as new flooring.

Being the oldest, I usually found something to entertain myself and my siblings when boredom hit. One uneventful day, a short time after the new linoleum flooring was placed, I was looking for something to do. I had it! I filled a pitcher with water and poured a thin layer of it onto the shiny linoleum floor. We then sprinted from our living room to the dining room and slid on our backsides along the new floor. But to play that game, I needed to move a huge and heavy table out of the way to the side of the room. This was not a dining room table, but a pool table. Mom and Dad had bought the pool table so that they could practice their favorite game in preparation for bar time and billiards.

You can imagine how heavy a seven-foot slate pool table is. Slate, as in the stone, about one and a half inches thick. But I pushed it out of the way, probably with help from one of my brothers. And then we had a grand old time slipping and sliding on the wet floor!

Later that day, Dad came in. The pool table was still to the side of the room since I had not moved it back. He looked down at the floor and he saw gouges and skid marks in the new linoleum from the pushing of the heavy pool table across the floor. I had not even realized we had done that when we relocated the table. But Dad saw it right away.

He called me into the dining room. He pointed to the damaged floor and said angrily, “Did you do that?” I told him that, yeah, I must have when I pushed the table to the side. Without warning, he began to smack me hard on the back of the head, about eight or ten times in a row. My eyes were shut tight as he struck me, and I remember seeing stars with every blow to my brain stem. I didn’t duck. I didn’t put up my hands to protect myself. I just stood there and took it.

There is something very devastating that takes place when you are struck in the head or the face. Why? Because it is a direct assault on your identity. Your face is how people recognize and identify you. Four of your five senses are specifically located within your head. Your cognitive functions take place within your brain. You think and imagine and remember and make decisions and move your muscles because of the processes which take place in your head. An assault to the head is most devastating when it comes from a father.

After the attack, I walked away, crying and humiliated. I was only about 12 years old. My mistake was unintentional, and I felt that the repercussion was excessive. Yes, the new floor was damaged, “But Dad,” I thought, “I did not know that would happen! I would never have moved the table had I known!” I received a message loud and clear from Dad: You are an idiot. You are stupid. You are careless. You are worthless, or at least worth less than the linoleum. I don’t want you around here anymore.

Not only was I physically and emotionally wounded after this incident, but I was also extremely angry, as my 12-year-old sense of justice told me that my dad’s reaction was wrong. He was dead wrong! I walked away from the dining room into the living room and turned towards the steps leading upstairs, feeling complete shame, but also extreme rage. I stopped at the foot of the stairs at the corner and turned around where my dad could not see me. I raised my arms as if holding a shotgun and pointed it at Dad. Tears of betrayal ran down my face as I saw the one man who should love me unconditionally, even when I mess up. Demons from hell were probably swirling around me, screeching in delight as my fury escalated and reached a point of no return. I sighted in on the man who had attacked me. I pulled the trigger of my imaginary gun, and my body recoiled from the blast. I wanted to kill my father. And I had killed him—in my heart.

During those difficult times with my father, on a scale of one to ten, the relationship I had with my father was at most, a two.

In this book I will demonstrate why most of the troubles you have in life are related to an emotional wound, and specifically, a father wound. Now I know, we have all been hurt by all sorts of people in our lives, wounds beyond just your dad. You may or may not have been wounded by your father, but perhaps by your mother, or by siblings, other relatives, teachers, babysitters, bullies at school, total strangers, or even by your own spouse or your children. But if you go back far enough into the history of any of these wounders, you will find a father who wounded them that eventually made its way down to you.

Men, I want to propose to you that the emotional wounds that are received directly from a father as a young child are the most intense and overwhelming wounds of all. A father has an authority over his children that no other person in the universe has. This authority has the power to affect a child to his or her core for a lifetime.

In the pages you will soon read, I am going to show you the underlying cause of many of your negative thoughts, emotions, and character traits. You will begin to...