Over the past few weeks, a memory from my nineteen-year-old self has begun to resurface in my mind, almost as if it were trying to tell me something. I can’t quite grasp why now; it has remained tucked away in my mind for years, perhaps forgotten entirely. I am sitting in a booth. Across from me sat a leader from a campus ministry I was involved in. I was nervous, afraid and unsure of what I was about to tell him.
I had requested this meeting because there was something heavy on my heart—a confession I desperately needed him to hear from my own lips rather than through the whispers of others. It was about a sin I had committed, one that would soon come to light, changing my life forever.
As I revealed my burden, he listened quietly for a few moments, a deep sadness reflected in his eyes. I braced myself for judgment, but instead, I encountered an overwhelming sense of empathy. His eyes conveyed genuine sorrow rather than condemnation. Finally he asked, "Sharon, I have noticed for some time that it seems you are searching for something. What is it that you are looking for?"
That question echoed in my mind, haunting me long after our conversation had ended. I struggled to find a response; I was lost and without direction. All I knew was that, despite being a Christian for three years, there was an unsettling emptiness within me. I felt like a ship adrift at sea, longing for land but unsure of my destination. What I failed to recognize in that moment—and what I would later come to understand—was that I was missing my Father. His love and presence were the very things my heart craved, even if I didn’t yet know it.
Ten years passed before I would begin a journey that would finally answer that question. In that time I followed Jesus but largely ignored the Father. I read the New Testament, but I did my best to stay away from the Old Testament. This disregard for the Old Testament wasn’t always a conscious choice. Before I became a Christian, I had once said that I didn't need God as a Father; I neither needed nor wanted a Father. So when a friend told me about Jesus, it was easier for me to accept Him. It’s not that I didn't believe in God the Father; I was simply ambivalent toward Him.
God brought a woman in my life who would become a dear friend. We raised our families together, prayed and studied God's word together. It was in those times spent with her and doing Bible study she would begin to share with me her relationship with her Father God.
Her relationship with The Father was tender, merciful and unlike anything I knew I wanted what she had. I wanted to feel no hesitation in running to the Father with my hopes, dreams, and my shame. I wanted to walk into the throne room, bow before the Father and feel loved, not constant condemnation.
Now, some 30 years later I am more confident. I can still struggle but what I know that was different then is who God says He is. You see, I viewed my Heavenly Father through the lens of poor and abusive father figures. I have very few memories of my actual father but the men who came after him were not good. So my view of what a father should be like tainted my view of God.
When I realized, or better said, when God revealed my wrong view of who God is I began searching for truth. I wanted to know who He was and is. I have mostly found that in studying God’s character through the studying if His names. With each name I gained a greater depth of who He is. I began to realize that all those years ago I was searching for my Father, my good, kind and merciful Heavenly Father. The Father who loves me unconditionally and sent Jesus to die for me. What an amazing love the Father has for me.
One of the studies that helped me tremendously was Kay Arthur’s Lord, I Want to Know You. It is a study of the names of God
