Telling a story about how my Dad hurt me feels like turning in my best friend for stealing. I care more about him than any other man on earth.
Yet, at the same time, I have been at odds with him more than any other person. Not just because he hurt me. I’ve rebelled against him, too. But an older friend once helped me realize how all the rebellion goes back to an underlying bitterness towards him.
When I saw that, when I repented and began forgiving him, the chains broke. The wall that separated us began coming down and in the last five years I have experienced an increasingly deeper, and more empowering relationship with him.
