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Have you ever wondered why it feels so hard to get it right as a parent, even when you’re trying your best?

You show up. You say the right things (most of the time). You even apologize when you blow it. But still, that quiet voice in your head whispers: “You’re not enough.”

If you’ve ever felt that, welcome. You’re not broken. You’re not disqualified. You’re reading this just at the right time.

Because what if leadership, especially in fatherhood, isn’t about always having the right answer, but about showing up with the right heart?

Let’s talk about it.

When “I’m Sorry” is the Strongest Thing You Can Say

At Faith Church this Father’s Day, the message wasn’t about perfection. It was about presence.

Real men, real mistakes, and real grace. The kind of stuff you only get when people stop pretending and start sharing.

Sometimes what we all need to practice saying out loud is, “I’m sorry.”

You’ll feel the tension in your shoulders loosen.

There’s something powerful about hearing those two little words out loud. Especially from someone who’s been taught their whole life that strength means silence.

But let’s be honest. Saying “I’m sorry” doesn’t come naturally to most of us, especially dads. It’s not that we don’t want to. It’s that we often didn’t see it growing up.

If you grew up watching your dad apologize, celebrate that. If you didn’t, you’re not alone and you’re not too late to start.

You Can’t Give What You Never Got… Or Can You?

Picture this: A son sitting in a hot tub with his stepdad, wrestling with a huge life decision. Not sure if it was the Holy Spirit speaking or bad pizza. (Relatable, right?)

But instead of judgment, he got guidance. Instead of being rushed, he was heard. And that moment? It helped lead him into the marriage, family, and legacy he’s living out now.

Here’s the thing: we all parent from a place of memory; what we saw, what we felt, and what we lacked. But God? His parents are from a place of eternity.

That means your past doesn’t disqualify you from being a great father. It might explain your fears, but it doesn’t define your future.

The Sandwich Method

Have you ever heard of the “sandwich method”?

Praise. Correction. Praise again.

It’s like the Chick-fil-A of feedback. You get the meat, but it’s wrapped in love.

One of the pastors joked that when correcting his son Liam, he doesn’t start with “You did this wrong.” He starts with: “You’re amazing. Here’s an opportunity. Also—you’re still amazing.”

Why? Because words weigh a lot more when they come from a parent. Especially a dad.

Kids remember tone. They remember what wasn’t said. And they definitely remember if you celebrated their wins or only showed up to point out their flaws.

So next time you’re tempted to unload your frustration after a missed shot, a messy room, or a bold little lie, pause.

What if your words became the soundtrack that replays in their heads when life gets hard?

The Father Who Ran

Let’s switch gears for a second.

You probably know the story of the prodigal son. It’s one of those parables that gets preached a lot, but it hits differently on Father’s Day.

What stuck out this time wasn’t the son. It was the father.

The Bible says, “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and ran to him.”

Not strolled. Not waiting with crossed arms. Not sat in judgment with an “I told you so” smirk.

He ran.

And he didn’t lead with correction. He led with connection.

That’s a word for somebody. You don’t need to have all the answers to lead your family spiritually. You don’t need to be a Bible scholar or a Pinterest dad or a motivational speaker.

You just need to be present. Arms open. Eyes watching. Willing to run toward your kid when they feel too ashamed to run to you.

Healing the Father Wounds

Let’s get real. Not all of us had a great dad. Some of us had absent ones. Others had dads who tried but didn’t have the tools.

And that leaves marks.

You might carry wounds from what was said or what wasn’t. From those who didn’t show up. From discipline that crossed into damage.

But can those wounds heal?

Yes. And it starts with this: God is not the reflection of your earthly father. He’s the perfection of him.

He’s kind. He’s compassionate. He doesn’t need you to perform. And He’s not pacing the porch, waiting to punish you.

He’s already running.

When You Feel Like You’re Still a Long Way Off

That line in Luke? “While he was still a long way off…”

How many of us feel that way? Like we’re still miles away from the kind of parent we want to be?

That’s okay. You’re still in the story.

God sees you while you’re figuring it out. He celebrates your small steps. He’s not waiting for you to be perfect; He’s waiting for you to come close.

And every time you show up for your kids, your spouse, your faith, you’re making a deposit.

Legacy Isn’t What You Leave Behind—It’s What You Pour In

Cars rust. Homes break down. Inheritances get spent.

But values? Love? Faith?

Those outlive you.

One of the quotes shared was: “Legacy isn’t leaving something for people—it’s leaving something in them.”

So, keep praying when it feels awkward. Keep affirming when you’re not sure if it’s landing. Keep showing up when your past tells you to run.

Because your kids aren’t looking for a perfect parent.

They’re looking for a faithful one.

One Last Thought (And It’s Big)

If there’s one thing we heard loud and clear, it’s this:

You don’t have to be perfect to lead. You just have to be present.

Your past may explain you, but it doesn’t define you. And no matter what mistakes you’ve made, you’re still a son or daughter of a Father who runs toward you, not away.

So, let’s be men and women who say the hard things with love. Who admits when we’re wrong? Who hugs tight and affirms often. Who chooses connection over control?

Because real strength isn’t about having it all together.

It’s about choosing love, over and over again.

What’s Next

What’s one way you can affirm someone this week?
Maybe it’s your kid. Your spouse. A friend who’s trying their best.
Don’t wait. Don’t overthink it. Just say it.

And if you’ve been holding onto a father wound, bring it to God.
He sees you. He’s for you. And He’s already running toward you.

Would you share this with someone who needs to hear they’re not too far gone?

You never know the weight your words might lift.

Let’s build legacies of love—together.