Restoring Broken Relationships

At the time of this writing, I am 48 years young. I have had my share of broken relationships in my life. But none of them have been as severe and lasted as long as had the broken relationship between my Dad and I. My parents divorced when I was about a year old. Growing up, I would only see my Dad once a year, and that was for a week (or two) during summer vacation. We lived over 600 miles apart, so seeing each other more often was not very feasible.

When I was twenty years old, I made a decision to move to Georgia full time to be closer to my Dad and to attempt to establish a relationship with him. It went well for the first few months, but then it all blew up in my face. I am not pointing any blame, except at myself. I can say this though ... one of our constant struggles is that although we did not grow up together, we were wayyyyy too much alike. And that drove us both crazy! At one point during that time period, I got into some very serious trouble. My Dad told me then, "You are my son by birth only, and not by relationship." Those words haunt me still to this day.

After a period of time, I moved away from Georgia, and had no more contact with my Dad at all. Almost 15 years later, when I was in my mid 30's in age, I was transferred with my job back to Georgia, and lived about 45 minutes away from him. I tried several times to contact him to attempt to join together for a lunch. Each time, he claimed he was too busy. I finally stopped trying.

In 2005, a good friend of mine (Chris) and I were in Atlanta for our annual "Away Browns Game" ... we were to spend the weekend going to an Atlanta Falcons vs Cleveland Browns game, and had tickets to an Atlanta Hawks basketball game, and an Atlanta Thrashers hockey game. At the strong urging of Chris, I called my Dad. I asked him if he wanted to go out to eat. He said he had no interest and hung up. It's okay, I reasoned, because I tried. But about 20 minutes later, my stepmother called me back and asked us to meet both of them at a BBQ restaurant ten minutes from their house. Once we arrived, my stepmother explained to us that the reason he finally agreed is because his health has been declining, and he might not ever have another chance.

After that, we stayed in contact to a degree, which means about once a month or so. It was better than nothing, and I was content with that. It appeared he was as well. But after about two years of that, I made a comment on my Facebook that offended him, so he blocked me and we have had no further contact with one another. (The comment had to do a University of Michigan slang term!)

My Dad has not spent much time with me since I was 21 years old. All he has of me are the memories of a self centered rotten kid. All I want him to do is be able to take a look at who I've become since, and I'm sure he would be proud. But honestly, I don't even know if he's still alive! During that dinner at the BBQ restaurant, my stepmother told us that if his health declined even worse and he were to pass away, he was leaving instructions to the rest of the family to not let me know.

I pray for him daily. I even check the obituaries online once in awhile.  I seek to restore this broken relationship because Jesus first reconciled us to God. When I pursue a broken relationship, my focus should be on the other person and what we need to do – instead of what they did and what they need to do to make it right. This principle of reaping and sowing creates reciprocity in a relationship.

We become planters of peace in our relationships when we intentionally function from a peace-centered perspective. We are peace-makers because we worship the greater Peace-maker. The Bible promises that those who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness (James. 3:18). This is exactly what Jesus did – by peacefully submitting to the will of His Father – going to the cross – and providing us with His righteousness.

Please keep us both in your prayers. Pray that Christ banish any and all barriers that may be set up to keep reconciliation from occurring.

Mark Beavers, left, and his Dad, right (November, 2005)