(Angie was a participant in the recent “A Summer Encounter to Remember.” She gave this testimony near the conclusion of the retreat.)

I am Angie. As I sat there listening to the speaker talk about his father, I remembered mine… and an ocean of tears welled from my eyes. My father left us when I was four and my youngest sister was less than a year old. All four of us girls grew up without a father, and most of the time, without a mother, for my mother had to work to support all of us.
As I grew older, questions began springing from my young and idealistic mind. Where was my father? What was he like? Was he a good man, like they said he was? People around us blamed my mother for the breakup and always regarded my father as the underdog. He was, they said, too good for my mom.
When I was in my early twenties, I began my lonely search for my father. I was working then in a beverage company and doing very well. I was hoping that my father would be proud of me.
It was not long before I was facing him, in his house, with his new family. I did not know what to expect, nor whether to hug him or just hold his hand, but I got the shock of my life. Nothing prepared me for what I was about to receive.
I’d been told that he was a good and decent man – a good cook, a poet, and a lot of other good things. But there I was, in a small shanty; an untidy, unkempt, poor excuse for a house, with a woman who introduced herself to me as my father’s wife.
When I faced him, the first thing he told me was that he had already sold his inheritance, a premium parcel of land in Pasig, and that we would receive nothing from him. The second thing he told me, without looking at me, was that the only child he was sure was his was my eldest sister, who looked exactly like him. He was not sure that I and my two younger sisters were his children.
I was devastated; a lifetime of longing to meet him, and that was my prize – rejection. I did not show any emotion and decided to leave.
He walked me over to the place where I could board a jeepney. As I sat in the back of the jeepney, I looked out at him and saw that he had already left; he did not even bother to see me go and wave goodbye. He had just turned around and walked home. That image of him walking away from me under the dim streetlight haunted me for a long time. He had left me, again.
No words could express the pain and devastation that the incident brought me. My young heart was shattered. And when my sisters learned about what he did to me, they blamed me for wasting my time looking for him.
After some time, I resumed a normal life. I tried to shut the memories of my father out of my consciousness. I told myself that if he thought he did not need us, we also did not need a loser like him.
Deep within me, I came to the conclusion that fathers stink. My father’s rejection of me hardened my heart. Even the news that he was looking for us, and that he died a few years later, did not bother me nor my sisters. He rejected us, so we also rejected him.
On the first day of this retreat, Pastor Dan talked about a God who is also our Father.
I have already processed the idea of God as my Savior, as the Lord of my life, and as my Friend who will be there for me in times of need. But God as a good Father, who loves me and cares for me? That was alien to me.
As the AVP told us what kind of a Father God is, I felt that God was talking to me personally. My eyes shed old tears. I realized how wounded my heart and soul were because of my father’s rejection of me. Although I denied it and tried to push it down, there was a deep void in my heart and an unfathomable sense of longing for a father. My hunger for a father’s love was too primitive and too profound for words.
Hebrews 13:5 says that God will never leave us nor forsake us. Psalm 103:13 says that God is like a father to us and has compassion for us.
Reconciling the image of the only father I ever knew, the one who abandoned and hurt me, with the idea of a Heavenly Father who will never leave me nor forsake me, was not easy. Because I did not experience it, I did not have even a vague idea of what a father’s love was. I associated fathers with rejection and pain, and I secretly swore that I did not need a father to live. Regarding God as my father gave me the shivers.
In the first few minutes of the retreat last Thursday, God dealt with me, with this issue. As Pastor Dan spoke, I cried uncontrollably in my chair. So as not to attract attention, I went to the comfort room and prayed. I surrendered my fears to God and dared to love, dared to trust a Father again: my Heavenly Father. I admitted to God that I needed Him as my Father.
I realized that I created an imaginary wall to protect me, a psychological fortress to prevent me from being hurt again. And in that afternoon, I ventured out of those walls and gave my heart to another father, my Heavenly Father.
I know that this time, this Father will not hurt me, will not leave me nor forsake me.
I still cry on a daily basis. Sometimes, just a teardrop or two; other times a full hour of bawling. I know it is a process I must undergo.
But deep inside, I have hope. I know that no matter how dark my night is, the sun will rise again, and soon it will be morning. There is no other way to go. It is God’s order of things.
To God be the glory.
Do you know God the Father?