Hope for Father’s Day

By Matt Townsend

If you didn’t know, I’m a girl dad. I have four amazing daughters: Addy (15), Emmy (14), Cari (12), and Izzy (almost 10). Each of them owns a piece of my heart.

I can still vividly remember the first time I held each of them in my arms, the day I brought them home from the hospital, and even some of the hard conversations we've had along the way. Fatherhood has been one of God’s greatest gifts in my life.

Dad work is hard work. It’s some of the best work there is, but it’s hard work nonetheless.

Being a dad means living with constant tensions. You have to be tough, yet tender. Strong, but not harsh. Compassionate, but not passive.

One minute, I can barely breathe because we’re laughing so hard. My favorite family story involves a pickle. I hate pickles. Hate them.

One evening at dinner, Miranda jokingly threatened to throw a pickle at Cari for her “sass.” After enough teasing, Miranda finally tossed it. Cari instinctively swatted it away—and with remarkable precision, that pickle flew directly into my mouth.

The whole thing happened so fast I didn’t even know what hit me. All I knew was that I suddenly had a pickle in my mouth while the rest of the family was doubled over in laughter.

Moments like that are priceless.

But then there are the other moments.

One minute we’re laughing, and the next I’m refereeing the 500th sibling dispute of the day. Whoever said boys punch with their fists while girls punch with their words knew exactly what they were talking about. Some days I’m convinced I’d rather take a punch to the face than hear some of the things sisters can say to each other.

As much as I love being a dad, I often need reminders about my calling as a father.

It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that God has not primarily called me to raise successful children—at least not by the world’s definition of success. He has called me to help my children know, love, and follow Jesus.

Dads, if you’re anything like me, you tend to drift toward one of two ditches: passivity or harshness. The truth is, I can visit both of them in the same day.

Sometimes I just want to check out. Between being a husband, father, pastor, leader, counselor, occasional plumber, amateur electrician, and full-time referee, some days I simply don’t have much left in the tank.

Other times, I just want my kids to obey.

So I get impatient. I raise my voice. I lose my cool. I become irritable and demanding. And if I’m being honest, in those moments I’m not thinking much about their hearts—I’m thinking about making my life easier.

Dads, we’ve all been there.

That’s why I’m so grateful that while I may never be a perfect father, I have a perfect Father.

My heavenly Father is perfectly patient with me. He never grows weary of my weaknesses. He never folds His arms in frustration when I come back to Him after wandering. He never tells me He’s too busy. He never overreacts to my failures, my faults, or my sin.

He is a perfect Father.

And here’s the good news: God never asks us to be perfect dads.

He simply calls us to draw near to Him.

As we draw near to our Father in heaven, He slowly transforms us. He shapes our hearts, softens our rough edges, and teaches us to reflect His character.

The more we experience His fatherly love, the more we learn to love our children the way He loves us.

So this Father’s Day, don’t spend your time feeling guilty that you aren’t a perfect dad.

Instead, be grateful that you have a perfect Father.

A Father who loves you.
A Father who accepts you.
A Father who delights in you.
A Father who patiently transforms you.

For the sake of your wife, your children, and your own soul, spend time with your heavenly Father today—and every day.

Dad, you are loved.
You matter.
God is using you.
Don’t lose heart.