I will not leave you orphaned.

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Most people believe that pastors are a sort of anomalous creature that grew up in a home staffed by one dad, one mom, siblings who loved each other, and a dog that never chewed. They believe pastors come from a family that is a cross between the Waltons and the Cleavers and that we all came from families that just oozed goodness, mercy, and love. (Goodnight Jim Bob, goodnight Mary Ellen) Sanctified, justified, and purified. THE PASTOR

Yeah, I don't come from one of those families! I come from a wonderful family, but I come from a family that is probably a lot like yours. We have our warts, our scars, and our goofy histories, just like everybody else. We have our share of crazy stories, dysfunctional behavior, systemic silliness, and just point-blank oddity.

I was not born into Waltons! Not at all! In fact, when I was born, there was no dad in sight. None to be found! I didn't have a father figure until I was six. Then everything changed.

In 1969, this was the world my stepfather walked into. One day, he is a single man living in a small basement apartment by himself. The next day, he is living with a wife, children ages 6, 12, 18, and 20, a dog named Tippy, and, let's not forget, grandma. I never asked him what it was like for him that first week, but I'm betting that it was like "having a bowling alley installed in his head."

I wonder if Dad thought much about that season of his life. Hopefully, the healing of memories has occurred. As for me, I remember what it was like to have a dad for the first time. One of the things I remember was the week after my 7th birthday.   I had been saving for a new bike. And for my birthday, I had an economic windfall. I had in my possession forty-nine George Washingtons. It was "new bike" time. 

On Saturday morning, Dad and I got into his 1965 Ford Galaxy and drove to New Rockford to the Coast to Coast to get my new bike. I remember walking in the front door of that store as if I owned it. Armed with forty-nine dollars, I was about to be a traveling man on a brand-new three-speed. It was fast! As quickly as my hopes rose, they were crushed. The bike, I thought was forty-nine dollars, was marked sixty-four dollars. I did not have enough money!

I will never forget what happened next. This new dad of mine looked at the bike and then looked at me, introducing me to the definition of fatherhood. He said, "Corey, we can still get the bike. I'll make up the difference."

That was the day I learned that fatherhood was all about “making up the difference” and also what Jesus meant in John 14:18 when he said,

"I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you."