I Never Met My Father Short Story

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I’ve come to accept that I am probably never going to meet my father. I know that I am probably never going to shake my father’s hand—or give him the most awkward hug in history. I am never going to get to ask him the questions I’ve been wanting to ask since I was old enough to have questions. I am never going to see his face. I am never going to hear the voice that supposedly sounds so much like mine. I am never going to get to ask him for advice. And if I marry a lady and father children one day, they are probably never going to get to meet him too. In fact, I don’t even know if he is still alive.

My father abandoned my mother—his wife at the time, my older brother, and me in Ghana when I was a few months old. Apparently overwhelmed by financial
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I’ve always maintained that I do not miss him, and that’s the truth. I cannot miss someone I’ve never met. Still, I think about him sometimes, wondering if he ever thinks about me in return.

If this sounds like an invitation into a lavish pity-party, I assure you that’s not the case. When I was still a boy, my mother once advised me that I should think about her faithfulness toward me; that I should think about all her sacrifices for me, and consider them as virtually nothing in comparison to God’s faithfulness toward His children. So this Father’s Day, my thoughts will be captive, not to David Sey’s faithlessness, but to God’s faithfulness toward me.

God’s faithfulness is precious to me, not merely because of my father’s faithlessness, but because of my own faithlessness toward God. Because of my sins, I am “by nature [a child] of wrath, like the rest of mankind (Ephesians 2:3). Therefore I am not, by nature, a child of God (Romans 9:8). I am a sinner, and I am deserving of the consequences thereof. I do not have an inheritance to a home in Heaven. Instead, I am deserving of Hell.

But in Galatians 4:3-7, the apostle Paul

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