Never Give Up: Hostage – the Story We Tell Ourselvesਨਮੂਨਾ

**Notice: This content includes sensitive themes that some readers may find difficult: Mentions of racism, sexism, or other discrimination. Please take care as you read.

Day 4: A Father’s Approval and a Child’s Identity

The Prodigal Son
Jesus tells a story of a son who asked for his inheritance early, left home, and wasted it all in reckless living. When he hit rock bottom, he decided to return home, expecting rejection. But instead, his father ran to him, embraced him, and celebrated his return. The older brother didn’t understand it. But the father’s message was clear: “You were always my son. You still belong.” The son’s failure didn’t strip him of his identity.

Searching for a Father’s Approval

By the time I was twelve, my parents had long been divorced. I didn’t spend much time with my dad growing up. Our connection was distant—like a foggy outline of what a father-son relationship should look like. There were occasional visits and awkward dinners, but never much closeness. So when he said, “I think it’s time for you to come live with me,” I was stunned.

He framed it as fairness. “Your mom’s had you for years,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

Then came the part I’ll never forget. He added, “Besides, being raised by your mom and sisters could cause you to become gay. You need a man to show you how to be a man.”

I didn’t even know how to respond. I was twelve. That statement wasn’t just ignorant—it was deeply wounding. What I heard in those words was: You’re not enough. You’re not right. You’re not safe here unless you become someone else.

Still, I said yes.

I think I hoped that if I agreed to live with him, maybe I could earn his approval. Maybe this would be the moment where we finally connected. Maybe I’d stop feeling like I was on the outside looking in.

But from the moment I arrived at his house, it was clear that I wasn’t really wanted.

The bedroom I expected to stay in? Off limits—it was being turned into a TV room. Instead, they set me up in the “manor”—a glorified backyard shed with no heating, no plumbing, and the stench of a chicken coop that shared the same metal wall. I tried to endure it, hoping it would all somehow work out. But after nights of getting eaten alive by mosquitos and trying to sleep through the cold, I begged to return home to my mom.

“No, son. You need to stick this out,” he said.

Eventually, he let me move to the TV room floor. Still, the message had already been received: You don’t really belong here.

After a few more weeks, I couldn’t take it anymore. I called my mom and asked to come home. And she, as always, welcomed me with open arms.

Devotional Reflection

When a father withholds approval, it creates a deep ache in the soul of a child. And for many of us, that ache grows into a narrative we begin to believe: I’m not enough. I’m not lovable. I have to earn my place.

The tragedy is, those lies often shape our relationship with God too. If our earthly fathers failed us, we sometimes assume our Heavenly Father will too.

But Jesus told the story of the prodigal son for a reason. Not just to illustrate forgiveness—but to redefine identity.

The son in the story blew it—big time. He wasted everything. He lived shamefully. He returned home rehearsing a speech to convince his father to take him back as a servant. But his father didn’t need a speech. He needed his son. He saw him coming from a distance, ran to him, and embraced him.

There was no “prove it” conversation. No punishment. Just a robe, a ring, and a feast.

Why? Because nothing the son did changed who he was to the father.

Your Father in heaven feels the same about you.

You don’t have to live in a shed to earn His love. You don’t have to suffer to prove your worth. He’s not waiting for you to clean yourself up—He’s waiting to embrace you.

Your identity is not in what your dad did or didn’t say. It’s not in your past. It’s not in the mistakes you’ve made or the approval you’ve chased.

Your identity is secure in God: chosen, loved, redeemed, and called.

Action Step

Write a letter (you don’t have to send it) to your earthly father—either expressing what you wish he had said, forgiving him, or releasing him from expectations he never met. Then write a second letter from your Heavenly Father to you. What does He say? How does He see you?

Reflection Questions

1. In what ways have you tried to earn love or approval from others?
2. What lies about your identity have taken root from painful family experiences?
3. How would your life change if you fully believed what God says about you?