Good Father

What follows is a short Father’s Day sermon or talk I was asked to write for a loved one. It addresses fatherlessness and fathering and points to our loving, powerful God.

Good fathers

Early one fall morning, on a stretch of highway between cities, a semi truck crossed over into oncoming traffic. The resulting accident took the life of a young father, leaving his son, David, fatherless at the age of 9.

Most of us can’t know what it means to lose a father at that age. Fathers are priceless. In many ways, our fathers stand as a proxy for God, providing shelter, sustenance, guidance, and love. They help shape our lives. Good fathers give and teach us strength, protection, discipline, and adventure. They give us our first glimpse of what it means to be fully known and still accepted. But the most important thing they do is to paint an image of God in our hearts and minds.

Prodigal son

The parable of the prodigal son gives us the perfect story to show this. We often focus on how the son wasted his inheritance, but the real message is in what the father does when the son shuffles shamefully up the path to the house.

“While he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20)

The father didn’t wait to hear an apology before running to him. And the father doesn’t stop there. When the older son becomes angry and self-righteous, the father responds to him with love as well. That’s what fathers do—after teaching and setting expectations, they respond to their children in love, especially when those children are struggling. That father and his story paint an accurate image of God.

Fathers can’t do it alone

The pressure to do this well must weigh heavily on our fathers, and every father knows they’ll fall short in some way. God knows this, too. He doesn’t leave them to do it alone.

David’s father was taken way too soon. But he wasn’t left entirely fatherless. His grandfather and men from his church stepped in. They fathered him as best they could. They protected, guided, and loved him. They taught him to work, to love, and to adventure. They provided an image of God.

God does this for all of us. Good men are inspired to step up and into our lives in countless ways. Grandfathers, uncles, brothers, friends, and others support our fathers in their responsibilities, working to see that our lives are full and that our image of God is accurate and complete.

Esther

I think of the bible story of Esther. She was an orphaned Jewish girl during the Babylonian exile. Mordecai stepped in and treated her as his own daughter. He provided for her, raised her with wisdom, and guided her throughout her life. When she unexpectedly became queen, Mordecai didn’t stop fathering her. Instead, he gently counseled her and urged her to step into her divine moment to save her entire people from destruction.

Mordecai shows us that fatherhood isn’t just about biology—it’s about presence, courage, and helping us rise when things are tough. And again, fathers paint an image of God in our hearts and minds.

Reasons to doubt

When David was 16, he took a summer job as a furnace cleaner for one of the men who had stepped into his life. One day, his boss asked him to run an errand with him, and together they drove away from the work site. It wasn’t long before they were turning down David’s home street, and he knew they weren’t running an errand. Cancer had come for his mother - by now, David’s best friend. Tears flowed as his boss confirmed that this was the day he’d been dreading. He was held as his mother’s lifeless body was wheeled away.

Things got rough after that. Finishing high school parentless was followed by a violent drill sergeant and a misguided mission president who left emotional wounds that sent David spinning, wondering why pain seemed to dominate his life.

David must have felt much like the Jewish victim in the parable of the Good Samaritan - beaten, stripped, and left for dead—anonymous, vulnerable, and alone. In the parable, most people pass by the victim, but a Samaritan, someone hated by the Jews, sees and helps him. The good Samaritan was a kind of father: nurturing, responsible, protective, and generous. He sees someone who is “other” and treats him like kin. The message is clear—fathering isn’t just about tribes, friendship, or common beliefs—it’s about stepping up and into the lives of anyone in need.

Good people saw David, too. God put solid friends and then a lovely young woman in his path. They were good influences and helped him through difficult times. Eventually, fighting fear that he wasn’t enough and that he, himself, could die and leave children orphaned, he made a life and a family with the young woman.

Sometimes we’re left with every reason to doubt that God is present in our lives and that he is a good father. I’m glad David didn’t - and that God sent good people to help father him. Because, as my father, he has provided me with shelter, sustenance, guidance, and love. He’s given and taught me strength, protection, discipline, and adventure. He’s shaped my life.

But the most important thing he’s done is to point me to my Heavenly Father.

Thanks in large part to my earthly father, I feel my Heavenly Father’s love. Just as the prodigal son experienced, my Heavenly Father runs to me with arms wide open.

By Ty, Writing Team

The Power of Connection

For most of my life, I didn’t recognize the tactics Satan uses to fuel addiction. It’s only in recent years that I’ve begun to understand them. Like any skilled adversary, he shifts his approach depending on where I am in life.

When I lose even the slightest bit of focus from feeling closely connected to God and others, Satan's attacks become subtle and calculated. They often begin as quiet thoughts that stroke my ego or seem harmless — thoughts that suggest I can skip something good just this once, that it’s okay to delay something meaningful, or that I’m too busy to do what’s right. Gradually, these whispers pull me away from the very connections that keep me grounded.

It happens so gradually that I hardly notice — until I realize I’m alone. And that’s when he strikes at my core beliefs. With relentless jabs to my conscience, he reminds me of our old agreements: ”You’re not good enough. You’re not worth the time. Everything else matters more than you.” That’s when the descent into isolation and relapse begins.

If Satan launches these attacks while I am surrounded by love and connection, he is not successful. He knows he must first lead me away — slowly, quietly — until I’m vulnerable and disconnected. Recognizing this pattern has given profound meaning to the phrase: “The opposite of addiction is connection.” I believe that with all my heart.

Today, I’m still here because of the connections I’ve built within myself, with my brothers and sisters in the Gospel, with my family, and most importantly, with my Savior. Staying close to them gives me the strength and awareness I need to resist the enemy’s attacks. Even when I’ve stumbled, the grace of Jesus has sustained me. His light and the connections He’s blessed me with have pulled me out of darkness time and time again.

By Adam, Guest Writer

Going Through the Motions

A spiritual leader once told me that passion will wane without ritual, but ritual will get you through times without passion. He was discussing whether a burning fire of testimony is necessary to living a good life or not, and his suggestion was that ritual keeps us doing the good things we know that we should do, even when the passion just isn’t there.

In my experience, these same ideas apply to recovery. Of course we all love the moments where the heart comes alive with a real passion for recovery, but there are also the regular rituals that we observe, such as attending meetings and surrendering to an accountability partner, and we are encouraged to keep doing those things even when we don’t want to.

I’ve spent some time wondering if it’s okay when I’m just going through the motions by way of ritual, or if I’m only doing things “right” when I have a burning passion alive in my heart. There’s no question which of those two methods I prefer: burning with passion, but is it okay when I’m not able to reach that place in my heart?

Personally, I think so. It's important to acknowledge that in life, we sometimes lose that spark. If we can only remain faithful when we feel passionate, we risk becoming fairweather disciples. That being said, I don’t believe that we can rely only on ritual. Changes are much more effective when our hearts are fully alive, and the longer we go without experiencing the fire, the more likely that we will fizzle out.

My recommendation, then, is twofold. First, do seek ways to perpetually rekindle that spark inside. Go to places where your heart is likely to come alive. Become familiar with your own spiritual language, and build up a library of songs, movies, talks, or whatever else is most likely to bring you back to life. Pray to God when you’re feeling stuck in a rut, and ask Him to make Himself manifest in your life. In short, do everything you can to bring the fire back every time that it has gone out.

But also, establish the rituals that will get you through the inevitable quiet times. When the fire is hot, establish the patterns that will keep you on the rails after things have cooled down. Build a network that will keep you honest, that will chase after you, that will invite you back to the good places. And when your heart is cool, and you just don’t feel ready to spark it back to life, lean on the rituals and trust them to keep you moving forward.

I believe that God meant for us to learn both sets of skills, and that that is the reason we both possess the capacity for burning passion, and the tendency to cool back to complacency. This dual nature gives us the opportunity to practice both sides and become mighty in each.

Speaking for myself, I’m in a colder time right now. My life has been through a barrage of trial and difficulty, such that I am just trying to get by on the old patterns. I hope that I’ll do a good job at that, and I trust that when I am able, I will start chasing the fire once again. Either way, I’m still in this, and I hope you are, too!

By Abe, Writing Team