He shuffled up the walkway in his worn argyle sweater and brown corduroys. We came out to meet him so he wouldn’t have to climb the two concrete steps to the front door.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, with our usual awkward hug.
I loaded my toddler in the backseat and climbed in beside him. Dad eased himself in the front next to my husband. Mumbling over his shoulder we made small talk on the short drive to church. It was Easter Sunday Eve.
I chatted about Noah’s newest word and the picnic we had planned. I dreaded the next inevitable question. The answer in recent years was never good. But I had to ask it anyway.
“So, how are you doing, Dad?”
He cleared his throat and looked out the window.
“I’m okay.” Long pause.
My husband shot a look in the rearview mirror that begged me to keep the conversation light.
“I, umm,” Dad continued, “I went to church three times this week. I plan to go again tomorrow at least once. Maybe twice.”
“That’s great,” I said and asked which churches he attended and what each service was like. We pulled into the crowded parking lot and made our way into the worship center.
White lilies lined the stage. Classic hymns recomposed with modern beats pulsed from the speakers. The pastor got up and preached a resurrection message. But all I could think about was my dad’s week. I pictured him sitting off to the side in unfamiliar pews, stranger faces glancing back at him each time he rattle-cough-hacked or blew his nose too loudly. I pictured him surrounded by crowds, but all alone.
It was a sobering glimpse of my dad’s grim reality. The truth was, he didn’t go to church six times during Holy Week because he was super spiritual; he went because he was utterly desperate.
Several years of bad luck and worse choices had catapulted my dad from living the high life to hitting rock bottom. From corporate success to chronic unemployment. Fiscal freedom to financial ruin. He traded European vacations and luxury cars for bankruptcy and subsidized housing. Add to the list failing health, addiction, depression, and a second divorce, and my dad had plummeted into a pitch-black pit without a light or a ladder.
He couldn’t climb out. My sisters and I tried to throw him a rope. It always fell short.
The affirmation I offered my dad in the car was genuine. For having no money, no friends, and nowhere to go, church was an excellent choice. But sitting next to him during this resurrection celebration, I couldn’t see the hope in it.
I only felt the grief.
I only saw a man not drawn by devotion, but wrought with despair. I saw a man not motivated by piety, but moved by self-pity. I was ashamed that these judgments even entered my mind. But the evidence seemed obvious.
That was my dad’s last Easter.
He died nine months later.
It’s now my seventh Holy Week without him and each year I look back and see with greater clarity the brokenness . . . that was mine.
I look back and see a daughter jaded by what she perceived as years of unanswered prayers. I see a daughter looking for hope in miraculous physical healing and relationship restoring. I see someone dulled and wearied from continual disappointment.
But God wasn’t hindered by the darkness of one father’s pit or the faltering of one daughter’s faith.
He was in it all.
My dad didn’t regain his health or wealth. His revival was greater — he recommitted to walking with Jesus.
A few months before he died, he took his disability money and traveled to the Holy Land, a decision I thought was physically dangerous and financially irresponsible.
Now it makes me smile.
And I can’t help but wonder if it was the stories my dad heard his last Easter week that made him want to go. That made him need to feel the soil where Jesus knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane and cried out soul overwhelmed. If it was that last Good Friday service that left the sound of nails pounding through flesh and wood echoing in my dad’s heart, the reality of his own sins nailed to the cross. If it was those repeated resurrection messages that made him need to see the empty tomb, evidence that Jesus had indeed conquered death.
I cannot help but wonder if the week I once grieved as my dad’s lowest desperation was actually a picture of the Resurrected Savior reaching down into his pit.
Saving him again.
Leave a Comment
Bev @ Walking Well With God says
Becky,
What a poignant and powerful reminder that our God is ABLE! There is no pit too deep; there is no life too desperate or sin laden; there is no soul so darkened that God cannot reach in with the light of His Son and bring hope. God has lifted me out of the slimy pit and placed my feet on firm ground. I know His power. Why He chooses a certain timing with one and a different timing with another I will not know this side of Heaven. Nor, do I need to know. If I can’t trace His hand, I know His heart and His heart is pure goodness. He cannot deny Himself. Praying for all of us who have strained relationships with loved ones that the gift God sent, in the form of His Son Jesus Christ, will, in His sacrifice, bring hope and restoration. Thank you for this true story of hope and healing. Have a blessed Easter.
Bev xx
Tina says
Awesome thoughts, Bev! Thank you for sharing!
Karen's Korner says
Wow that was a powerful posts. Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday and this post really touched my heart. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Becky Keife says
Karen, Sending you hugs on your dad’s birthday. Days like that always bring the sting of grief a little bit deeper for me. Thanks for being here.
Becky Keife says
We know His heart. Yes, Bev. That’s it. Thank you for being here and sharing.
Claire says
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Michele Morin says
This piece catches me in my tenderest places because my own relationship with my father was also fraught with everything from disappointment and grief to anger and frustration. I appreciate your offering up of a story that did not end with the traditional “Hallmark happy ending” of everyone smiling in a sun-washed pew on Easter Sunday. Sometimes we have to look further than the end of this life for our resurrection story to come true.
Becky Keife says
Michele, I’m sorry that your story with your own dad is also not an easy one. But you’re absolutely right — our hope is not in this life, but the one to come. God promises to make all things new…but the reality is, we often have to wait a while.
Penny says
Becky,
Thank-you for sharing your father’s moving story of Hope, and how he through his brokenness was led back to our Father.
I pray He brings you peace and comfort.
Have a blessed day all,
Penny
Becky Keife says
Thank you, Penny.
Jennifer Frisbie says
Becky, this was beautiful. Hard words to read as some of this feels like a mirror into my own family life, but I have a perspective I didn’t have before. Your words are always a welcome sight but something was different this time and it’s speaking to me in a way I can’t even articulate yet. Thank you for sharing such a personal story. I needed to hear this…
Becky Keife says
Jennifer, I’m touched by your words. Thank you. Sharing this story brings me to a place of stirred up feelings I can’t quite articulate either. But it is good. God’s stories always are…even if they are hard. I’m thankful to know this met you in a place you needed.
Jeannie says
Wow.
Just when we humans think we have it all figured out………
(Thank you for warming my heart today!)
Christy Dunnam says
I needed to read this. Thank you.
Tina says
Becky,
I enjoyed reading your story about your father. Thank you for sharing a personal story. Bless his heart, he sounded like a very strong man who came to know the true source of his strength at the end of his earthly life. I’m reminded of this song after reading your story:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToGcrT-M67g
“Some through the waters, some through the flood, some through the fire, but all through the blood, some through great sorrow but God gives a song, in the night season and all the day long.”
Have a blessed Easter with your family.
Vicki says
Needed this today! The song that Tina shared was beautiful too!
Vicki
diane says
Gods blessings are mighty. His hand poised to continually reach down.to.catch me. Amen and thank you for sharing a gift in this word.
Gen says
Beautifully said.
Thank you for a few tears this morning as you took me to the last days with my dad. If we only could have…
God’s continued blessings.
Serena says
Thank you for the reminder of what Jesus had done for all of us and is still doing today. I understand the truth of this phrase “When you need someone to reach into your darkest pit.” My mom died of lung cancer almost 10 years ago. She was a loving and sacrificial person, given her all for her family and friends. Yet she died a painful death at the end of her life’s journey. However, she was cornered and told my cousin that. A week before she passed she finally opened her heart to Jesus, I witnessed a miraculous touch on her spiritually and physically, like she was baptised by the Holy Spirit, Himself. I stood in awe of God’s great goodness that He took my mom into His arms though she didn’t know Him until the final hour after more than 20 years of prayers for my family’s salvation. We don’t come from a Christian background. I’m​ the first among my family to receive Christ. After much prayers, my cousins and niece got saved. Then of course my mom. Her testimony impacted my cousins’ children who are have received Christ already. God is good all the time. Indeed He is an awesome God!
Becky Keife says
Serena, I’m sorry for the loss of your mom and her painful exit from the world. But wow, how patient and faithful is the Lord! Thank you for sharing this powerful testimony of His goodness. I’m so glad we both can cling to the hope of seeing our parents again … in the presence of Jesus. Many blessings to you.
Susan says
Wow. So many similarities to my own dad. So thankful God reaches down to us in our pits. Thank you for sharing this.
Chris says
Authentic and powerful. Darkness, pain, redemption and glory woven together. That’s the reality of many. Thanks for this … amuch needed message of hope.
Beth Williams says
Becky,
My story is similar in some ways. My parents were both church goes, but over time they quit. In 2009 my dad, then caregiving for my mom, asked me if I had a preacher. Long story short I had my preacher talk to him. Dad stated “I’ve been reading the Bible. You know those Ten Commandments, I’ve broken them a lot.” My pastor arranged for him to be re-baptized-dunked. Shortly after mom died he would come to church with us. His health started failing and he couldn’t make the drive. On 03/15/17 he died. I have a sense of peace knowing that he was baptized. Still makes this Easter a little hard.
Blessings 🙂
Becky Keife says
Beth, I’m so sorry for your loss. How tender those wounds of grief are, even in the face of the lasting hope we have in Jesus. I’m thankful with you that you were able to see your dad recommit his life to the Lord. Thanks for being here and sharing a piece of your story.
Rebecca L Jones says
I am moved by your story. I know there is no pit too deep. I have seen God bring people out of so many things. If we try to do it or fix it, we can’t. we have to rest in His love. That must be what your father did, and what could be sad is a beautiful Easter memory that will bless others as well. You are right about judgements, it is a bad thing to realize even if it’s true, to voice it another thing. I will apologizing to some people, because I may not have understood their darkness. We are all at different faith levels and Jesus will meet us their, it is a shame that people don’t reognize His deep compassion and call out sooner, because I still believe in restoration. Thanks for sharing this. Be blessed.
Braveheart says
I am feeling blue today. I feel like my life is slow and uneventful as I continue to recover from a bone-marrow transplant. Reading this revved my faith. God is a God who will make beauty out of our brokeness. Happy Resurrection Day!
Tina Storms says
Lifting you up to God in prayer for Him to be your Strength and your Song when you are blue. Prayer going up for complete healing as well. God bless you and yours at Easter and in the days to come.
Becky Keife says
Braveheart, thank you for joining us here even in your blue-ness. I have known that feeling well. I’m blessed to know that God stirred your heart with this post. He sees you. And yes, He is able to make things that are so very broken, so very beautiful. Saying a prayer for you tonight.
Esther Elmer says
I appreciate your honesty on sharing about your own discomfort and despair -with limited eyes it is hard to see anything good in brokenness; just overwhelming loss.
Thank you for modeling for us Becky the state of feeling “Jesus, I just don’t get it.” and that it’s ok to just feel ??!!
Love that time has slowly unwrapped that mystery for you, so you can see what richness lies underneath. He really is good.
Christ has risen. He is risen indeed.
Becky Keife says
Esther, thank you so much for joining me here and offering these affirming words. Yes, He really is good! I hope you had a blessed Easter. Love you much, dear friend.
Judi says
Becky thanks for sharing. Awesome, humble, inspiring. I read 3 times. My Dad seems from the same team as your Dad. Your story has given me hope and an extra dose of faith. Bless you. Happy Easter.
Becky Keife says
Judi, “hope and an extra dose of faith” — praising God for that. He is good!
Bronwyn Jardin says
Thank you, Becky, for sharing this story. I honestly had to step away a moment after reading it to sort out all the feelings you stirred–the love of our fathers, seeing our own brokenness, the hunger for more of our Father in heaven, while we careen from one earthbound collision to another. The Lord has blessed you with insight and the gift of glorifying Him through writing. Thank you for this lovely Easter gift.
Becky Keife says
Bronwyn, I’m deeply touched and blessed by your words. Thank you for reading, soaking it in, and sharing this generous reflection.
Ashley says
Thank you. I can relate to your story. “He lifts me up out of the pit, out of the miry clay.. ”
Psalm 40
Becky Keife says
I love that Psalm. Yes!
Theresa Boedeker says
This is sad and yet happy. Sour and yet sweet. I love that though you had given up on your dad, God hadn’t. Sometimes it seems that when we quit or give up on a loved one, God steps in and answers things so much differently then we imagined the answer was. Maybe it is not so much us giving up, but us finally trying to solve things our way.
Chris Perini says
Becky, thank you so much for sharing your journey faithfully, honestly, and humbly. You are a joy and inspiration!
Becky Keife says
Chris, thank you so much for joining me here to read. Your encouraging words are a blessing to me today. It’s my joy to share the work God has done and is yet doing in my life. Much love to you.