Stepdad A.K.A. Dad
Jimmy, my stepdad by the world’s standards but my dad in his own heart, was not perfect. He was what the world calls a functioning addict. Alcohol was his biggest issue, but it certainly wasn’t his only one. To many, he appeared judgmental and racist. I found it ironic, mainly because Jimmy had married my half-Native American mother, whose struggles were compounded by her own issues. He loved her as much as I have seen any man love his wife. Instead of acknowledging her challenges, he did what many people do when they choose to love: he pretended they didn’t exist. Ultimately, even his go-along-to-get-along mentality could not save his marriage.
Jimmy was raised by people who found their self-worth in appearances rather than in who they genuinely were. His father was very religious, and his mother judged everything by how it looked. On the surface, they seemed to have it all together, but underneath, they really didn’t. They wore masks for so long that they forgot their true selves.
The little boy who rejects the façade eventually gets pushed out of the nest as soon as possible. When I first met Jimmy, he detested religion and the rules of polite society. However, as he grew older, he began playing some of the same games his parents did, and I was disappointed. Don’t get me wrong; I believe everyone deserves respect because we are all part of God’s creation. But religion based on man-made doctrine? No, thank you. On the other hand, a genuine faith and relationship with God? Count me in 100%. What you see with me is what you get; God is real, and what He has done in me is real, but it took time, and He isn’t finished with me yet.
Eventually, Jimmy grew tired of fighting against the established system and started playing the shell game himself, which only made him miserable. Old habits resurfaced, and he succumbed to them, leading to his downfall. He lost everything: his house, his business, his wife, and even his health. It was during this period that he came to stay with me and Kurt.
Jimmy struggled to respond to our faith, which was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. It was real, and it wasn’t always pretty as we stumbled through our journey, trying to understand who God was and who we were in Him. One time, Kurt and I discovered that something most Christians found acceptable was based on doctrine rather than biblical truth. We decided to abstain from a practice that Jimmy’s ultra-religious father always deemed acceptable. Jimmy thought we must be wrong while believing his well-studied father must be right. I encouraged him to research it; if he found we were in error, he could come back and show me the proof, and we would revert to our old ways. Jimmy attempted to find fault in our beliefs but, after not locating any proof, he wrote to his father for clarification. After weeks of no response, he came to me and admitted, “I guess you guys are right.” I informed him it wasn’t about being right; it was about listening to the conviction God places on your heart.
For the next four years, Jimmy divided his time between our home and his family. One night, I received a call from him in tears. Once again, his father had torn him apart over a misunderstanding. As Jimmy returned to our house, I assured him I would wait for him. When he arrived, I gave him a hug, pulled out my Bible, and said, “Let’s discuss what happened.” He explained the conversation, and I took it to God, opened my Bible, and read what the Word said. Jimmy’s father had condemned him based on doctrinal beliefs, breaking his son’s heart. Fortunately, God used me to help restore him; he passed away a couple of months later. For many years, Jimmy played the role of Dad in my life, and near the end, I had the opportunity to introduce him to my Father.
