Two Fathers, One Truth: A Biblical Journey of Fatherhood, Faith, and God’s Love
My whole life, I’ve always looked up to my Father—the one who carries me and the one who created me.
"Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee" Exodus 20:12 KJV
And sometimes I silently ask God, does that same respect apply to abusive parents?
My mother and father had a toxic relationship long before I was born. Their relationship was messy, volatile, and, at times, physically abusive. Yet despite everything, there was love.
It was the kind of young love shared between two people that eventually developed into holy matrimony. Yet even within that sacred union—the strong bond of marriage that many believe will last forever once you find your other half—crumbles. The bands of metal that symbolize togetherness begin to corrode when sin and betrayal enter the relationship.
My father was a jealous man, so much so that he would become hostile toward anyone who dared to glance at his wife.
My mother once recalled a time when a man approached her to ask for directions. She politely told him to wait for her husband, believing he would help. What the man encountered, however, was not the kindness and humility of another adult.
What emerged instead was the verbal wrath of a man who did not trust his wife.
A storm of insults, threatening body language, and insecurities about infidelity poured out through my father’s temper. Envy had taken hold of him. Rather than inspiring fear or establishing dominance, he displayed the opposite.
The stranger chose not to escalate the situation physically, despite having every opportunity to do so. Instead, he warned my father that such behavior would eventually bring trouble into his life.
My father often experienced bouts of jealousy so overwhelming that he acted before thinking. Ironically, while consumed by suspicions of infidelity, he himself committed acts of adultery against my mother while she remained faithful. Time and again, he allowed his insecurities to rule his decisions and dictate his behavior.
His roles as a husband and father were constantly being tested.
I remember my mother telling me about a time when she was breastfeeding me, and my father walked into the room. He asked her if she wanted to have a drink with him. When she declined, his response was, “I was here first.”
As I reflect on that story, I cannot help but notice the contradiction.
When I was born, my mother told me that my father was so enamored with me that he refused to let me go. His love and amazement were so overwhelming that she eventually had to call the police to convince him to hand me back to her because I needed to be fed.
If I rewind even further, my father was the one who persuaded my mother to have another child. She was content with two children and had no plans for more. Had it not been for his persistence, I would not be here today.
Looking back on his reaction to my birth—the excitement, the wonder, and the overwhelming affection—I cannot help but imagine that this is, in some small way, how God feels when we are created.
He looks upon us with awe and delight.
The most remarkable part is that we are made in His image.
God delights in His creation. Even before we are born, He sees the beauty of the lives we will live and the ways we may glorify Him. In that first glance of pure love, there is something almost blinding in its intensity.
So what happened?
How did my father—the man who longed for my existence and celebrated my birth—develop such a distorted view of my presence in his life?
The only answer I can arrive at is sin.
We become so immersed in the world’s values that we forget who we are and where we came from. Our hearts harden. Self-reliance becomes more appealing than faith in God. Pain convinces us that survival depends solely on ourselves.
Considering the betrayals and infidelity my father experienced before meeting my mother, I can only assume that those wounds played a role in shaping the man he became. Whether that assumption is correct, I know I will likely never receive a clear or honest answer from him when I ask.
Healing requires strength.
It requires a willingness to listen to the Spirit God has placed within us. Only He can begin dismantling the layers of fear, pride, and self-protection we build around ourselves.
But then another question arises:
Who protects the defenseless?
If my mother had chosen to join my father in drinking while she was breastfeeding me, I could have been harmed. She recognized the danger in that decision and chose what mattered more than temporary pleasure.
Time and time again, my mother embraced her role as a parent despite the sacrifices it demanded. She could have given in to the small comforts and fleeting pleasures of life. She could have prioritized pleasing her husband over caring for her child.
Instead, she chose differently.
In that choice, I see a reflection of God’s love—a love that consistently seeks our well-being, even when doing so requires sacrifice.
I understand that many people struggle with such temptations. Sometimes the promise of temporary relief feels stronger than the call to do what is right, especially when God’s hand seems distant.
His presence can feel absent.
Or perhaps it is there, but we ignore it because the whisper feels too faint to follow.
Yet I am here to tell you that even in the valley of the shadow of death, the light of Jesus shines brightly. His warmth is greater than any embrace this world can offer.
I am sure there were moments when those choices deeply pained my mother. If the pain did not come from making the decision itself, perhaps it came from the loneliness that accompanied it.
Yet through faith in the Lord and perseverance, she rose above each challenge like a phoenix soaring over mountaintops, even while others doubted her.
A reminder: never judge a book by its cover.
That is often how God works in our lives.
He reveals our temptations and exposes the crossroads before us. Sometimes the path is obvious. Sometimes it is not. The voice of the enemy often disguises itself as comfort, creating confusion between genuine love and temporary solutions.
I will not claim that my father never loved me.
He did.
But I have come to know an even greater love—the love God demonstrated through the choices both of my parents made throughout my life.
Without God, I would not be alive.
Without God, I would not be the person I am today.
When I reflect on the relationship between my father and mother and the abuse she endured, part of me wishes she had never experienced that pain.
Yet the truth remains that without my father, I would never have been born.
God brought life out of circumstances that were far from perfect.
And for that, I am grateful.
Stay tuned for my next story, in which an immigrant mother fights against a foreign country to reclaim what was taken from her because of one selfish decision.
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A quiet moment with God
Prayer:
I hope you were able to read this story and reflect on it, and I pray that this narrative of my past has touched your life. May God go with you, learn, and grant you wisdom and understanding as you reflect on your life and where He has worked in you out of Love. I pray that your love story will draw you closer to God, build a relationship, and spread his word to others. I pray we continually learn, practice, and enact love for one another and serve one another as one house. May you stay blessed in your endeavors, and I pray that you remember that God always loves you. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.
Would love to hear your reflections below!
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