Peace With My Father

Steve Sturges

From Jack: Those of us who have received forgiveness of sins and named Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord are, by faith, blessed with the peace of God. The war is over. Because of the sacrificial death and glorious resurrection of Christ, enmity between our sinful souls and holy God is removed. We are blessed by the miracle of this peace with God now and for eternity. In fact, we can call Him “Abba, Daddy” when we approach Him. In the following heartfelt story, Steve Sturges, a colleague in the In His Grip golf ministry, shares a story about his relationship with his earthly father that teaches an important lesson about our relationship with our heavenly Father.

In the fall of 1983, I was a sophomore at the University of Oklahoma studying pre-med. Like many college students, I was busy searching for all the important things like the cheapest beer and the meaning of life. Translation: I really didn’t know diddly about squat. Truth is, I needed God.

That same semester I was taking a class called Philosophy of Religion, taught by Dr. Tom Boyd. During one of his lectures, Dr. Boyd channeled his inner-Methodist minister: “Have you ever argued with God?” To me, that was a silly question. Argue with an untouchable God? Really silly! Dr. Boyd quickly followed up: “Are you afraid that He can’t take it? Trust me: He can.” I was intrigued, but I didn’t quite buy it.

At that time, my dad and I were like two trains on different tracks: we rarely communicated. He enjoyed drinking, smoking, and eating. A lot. Exercise meant taking a flight of stairs. He wore stress like a straitjacket. I was a nonsmoking, healthy-eating, twenty-one-year old exercise advocate who definitely wanted to avoid my dad’s mistakes. Yes, I was the perfect combination of pride and rebellion. Our differences separated us more than the miles between home and school. Then December 9 happened. My father went to bed early, had a heart attack, and never woke up. He was fifty years old.

Mom, the rock of our family, called to deliver the news about Dad. At first, I didn’t recognize her voice. This was the first time someone close to me had died.

Just a few weeks earlier, Dad had flown in for OU Dad’s Weekend. My brother John and I had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him. After I got off the phone with my mom, I was haunted by a memory from that visit playing on an endless loop: as he boarded his flight back home, Dad had paused on the ramp and turned back to look at us one final time. He had tears in his eyes. Dad didn’t cry. Ever.

That was the last time I would ever see him. I quickly packed a suitcase and flew home to Arizona. Dr. Boyd’s question tumbled in my head like a boot in a dryer. I was furious at God. Losing my dad when I had unfinished business with him must be God’s fault. I was just beginning to appreciate him.

Arriving home, I spent some time trying to comfort Mom and then headed out for a walk. Under the stars—and prompted by Dr. Boyd’s question—I raged at God: “How could You let this happen now?!” The Almighty and I argued for a mile or two. At least, I argued. God just listened. He wasn’t offended by my accusation. Instead, He did what He’s done throughout my life: He took my pain and carried it for me. He shared my sorrow. That night I realized what God truly wanted from me: a relationship. He didn’t bring Dad back. God did something better: He showed up huge in a deeply personal way.

God wept with me just as He did at Lazarus’s tomb. That night, I went to God looking for war . . . and found peace.

Reflection

When have you argued with or raged at God? What was His response? What impact did His response have on you? If you have never let God know that you were angry with Him, why not?