Healing Father Wounds Through Faith

The fire crackled low, flames licking at the edges of the stacked wood. A cool breeze carried the smoke upward, disappearing into the night sky. Jake sat hunched forward on the log, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the embers. Across from him, Sam leaned back, one boot resting on the other knee, watching but not pushing.

They’d been sitting there a while.

Jake finally exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Sam poked at the fire with a stick. “Start with the lie.”

Jake gave him a sideways glance. “What?”

“The lie,” Sam repeated. “The one that’s got its claws in you the deepest. Say it out loud.”

Jake swallowed hard. The words felt dangerous, like saying them might make them more real. He hesitated, then finally muttered, “I’m not like other men.”

Sam nodded, unshaken. “That’s a common one.”

Jake scoffed. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to tell you the truth,” Sam said. “You’re not alone in that feeling. But it’s still a lie.”

Jake leaned forward again, rubbing his hands together. “Is it, though? I mean, look at me. I never fit in with guys growing up. Always felt different. Still do. I don’t think I’m wired like them.”

Sam tossed the stick into the fire. “Different doesn’t mean deficient. You were made a man. That’s not something you feel your way into—it’s something you already are.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “Then why do I feel like something’s missing?”

Sam’s voice was steady. “Because you were meant to be sharpened by other men. Not as something you need to possess, but as something to grow alongside.” He let the words settle before continuing. “You think you need another man to complete you. But you don’t. Christ already made you whole.”

Jake’s throat tightened. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees now. “Feelings aren’t the final word, brother. Truth is. And the truth is, you lack nothing.”

Jake swallowed hard. “My dad never made me feel that way. He barely looked at me half the time.”

Sam nodded, his voice softening. “I get that. When a father doesn’t affirm his son, it leaves a gap. A hunger. But your dad’s failure doesn’t get the final say on who you are.” He pointed at Jake’s chest. “Your Father in Heaven already called you His son. Already gave you what your earthly dad didn’t. And He doesn’t hold back His love.”

Jake looked down, his fingers curling into fists. “Then why do I still crave it? Why does it hit me so hard when a guy sees me—really sees me?”

Sam let out a slow breath. “Because deep down, you were made for brotherhood. For real, deep, non-sexual connection with other men. But the enemy took that God-given longing and twisted it, made it feel like something else.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “So what am I supposed to do? Just ignore it?”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “You name it. You stop running from it. And you let God untangle what the enemy twisted. You step into real brotherhood—not in secrecy, not in shame, but in the light.”

Jake looked at him then, really looked. “And that works?”

Sam held his gaze, then reached over, clapping a firm hand on Jake’s shoulder before sliding his arm around his back in a solid, steady grip. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The warmth of that touch cut through the cold night air—solid, grounding, real. Jake didn’t pull away. He let himself feel it, the strength of another man standing with him, not against him.

The fire popped, sending sparks into the night. Jake let the words sink in, the truth pushing against years of lies.

He wasn’t there yet. Not fully. But for the first time, he believed it might be possible.

And for now, that was enough.

Themes: Christian man struggling with same-sex attraction, Healing father wounds through Christ,  What does the Bible say about masculinity? Healing from rejection as a man