Dear Michael

As I drove down the Cedar Creek Road yesterday, I spotted a new billboard. It has a black background with just a few lines of white letters. I thought, "It's another one of those cheesy Christian billboards." There are a few of them around this area. Some of them cheesier than others. They read things like, "Let's meet at my house Sunday, before the game. -God." or "When I said love one another, I meant that. -God" I don't like them. Maybe they were meant to spur people to worship God and love one another, but, to me, they feel like a shaming tactic. "You're not doing the right thing. Better start. -God" 

But as I got closer, I read this text: 

Dear Michael, 

I love you. Please forgive me and come home. 

-Dad 

My eyes flooded with tears. I don't know who Michael and his dad are, or what the truth of their story really is, but this dad's effort to get through to his son shook me to the core. 

As I continued to drive down the road, I thought, "Why did I dismiss this billboard when I thought it was a cheesy Christian message, but then was so moved by it when I realized it was a real story about a real father and son?" 

Shame has been my constant companion for many years. Only in recent years have I learned to identify it. I'm still working out what to do with it once I've recognized it. So, when I thought the billboard was a cheesy (maybe well-intentioned?) Christian message that made me feel shame, I wanted to dismiss it. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the majority of my experience as a Christian has felt like I was constantly being given this message- "You're sinful. Repent and try harder." My bucket is full up when it comes to shame. No need to add on more. 

But when I realized the message was a cry for reconciliation, my heart ached. I can imagine Michael and his dad arguing, both of them letting out pent-up anger, launching words at one another meant to inflict the most damage possible. Maybe things got physical. Or maybe, it wasn't a blow-out like that. Maybe it was a long pattern of quieter conversations in which Michael felt not listened to or respected. Maybe his desires were ignored, his heart overlooked. Maybe his dad always had to be right. 

Whatever their circumstance is, Michael's dad seems to be feeling the full effect of their falling out. To go to the length of paying for a billboard that announces to everyone driving down that road that 1) their relationship has ended and 2) he needs to be forgiven in order for it to mend demonstrates how crushed and desperate he must be. 

I love Michael's dad for that. I can't stop praying for him. I don't know what kind of dad he has been. He could be a narcissist or an alcoholic for all I really know. Maybe Michael had to get out of there for his own sanity and safety. But, I have to say, that if this demonstration of paternal remorse and love are what they seem, then Michael is pretty lucky. 

Seems like his dad isn't gaslighting him. Isn't trying to find a scapegoat. Isn't over-spiritualizing. Isn't denying. Isn't clueless as to his own role. 

Michael, wherever you are, I pray you are safe. I pray you are able to heal. And I pray that you will go home. 

Michael's dad, wherever you are. Thanks for showing me that fathers can break, even in public, to get back to their children. I hope you heal. I hope you get to hug your son. 

I told my pastor about this and said he needed to use it in a sermon one day. He said it reminded him of the prodigal son's story. A story that might be better named, "The running father."  It reminds me that the God Jesus talked about doesn't shame, scapegoat, gaslight. Doesn't launch words or hit with fists. Doesn't manipulate words or people so he can come out looking good or get his own way. He is the type of father who would do like Michael's dad- he would remind us of his love. He would ask us to come home.