none fatherless

One day last summer, in the wake of the accident, I read a verse about God's defense of the fatherless and it hit me suddenly: that's me now.


Really?


Really.



Really?


Kind of.


Father's Day is a strange day for so, so many of us, those of us who don't have plans on June 17th, don't have a gift to buy or a card to write. And for so many different reasons: some of us have lost our dads to tragedy, illness, or age. Some never knew their dads, some have been hurt by them in so many ways. Some have felt undervalued or forgotten.



Being fatherless in any of these ways or others is tragic for so many reasons, as countless studies on the family have told us. I don't need to repeat them all here.



God speaks over and over again of his overwhelming desire to care for the fatherless. In Hebrew, the word translated "fatherless" or "orphan" is yathowm, and it comes from an unused verb root meaning "to be lonely."



Lonely.


Yes, we feel it.


Even those with fathers feel it.
The wandering, the aloneness, the self-protective instincts too long engaged.



But I have good news. Simple and good.




We are not fatherless.


God doesn't just speak compassion. He fulfills. He acts. He becomes who He has always been: our Father. He calls Himself the Father to the fatherless.



Father to the lonely.





Protector of those who feel like they have to protect themselves.

Provider for those who feel like they have to be self-sufficient.

Comforter of those who feel like they have to buck up and move on.

Refuge for those who are afraid.




Father to the lonely.





Because He is the God who eagerly names himself "with-us," immanuel.






What does it mean for us? I don't know fully. But I know in part, and that part is glorious even in shadow:




He never leaves us or forsakes us.



He has left none fatherless.