06/21/2026
On this Father's Day, and EVERYday, we ALL have a Heavenly Father.
Below are writings from "Farmer Girl":
Friday (6/19/26)
This weekend is Father's Day, which can bring a lot of different emotions depending on where you are in life. For some, it is a joyful day spent celebrating a dad who has been a source of strength, wisdom, and encouragement. For others, it is a reminder of a father who has passed away, a relationship that is strained, a dad they never knew, or a child they have lost. Like many holidays, it can hold both gratitude and grief at the same time.
So this week, let's remember fathers. Let's pray for the dads who are trying their best and wondering if they are getting any of it right. Let's pray for fathers carrying burdens nobody sees. Let's pray for those who step into fatherly roles even when they are not required to. Let's pray for the men raising children, mentoring young people, coaching teams, teaching classes, and quietly making a difference in lives that may never fully realize the impact they have had.
Let's also remember those for whom Father's Day is hard. Those missing someone. Those carrying wounds. Those facing empty chairs around the table. Those wishing they could make one more phone call, ask one more question, or hear one more story.
And as always, let's remember that no prayer request is too big, too small, too complicated, or too messy. God is not surprised by any of it.
Saturday (6/20/26)
One of the things that absolutely amazes me every time I stop and really think about it is the way Jesus begins the Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6:9.
"Pray then like this: 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.'" (ESV)
We know those words so well that it is easy to miss how astonishing they really are. We hear them at church. We read them in our Bibles. Many of us could recite them from memory. But imagine hearing those words for the very first time.
Jesus doesn't say, "Pray then like this: My Father in heaven."
He says, "Our Father."
And the more I think about that, the more incredible it becomes.
Because if anyone who has ever lived had the right to say "My Father," it was Jesus. This is the Son of God. The One who existed before Bethlehem. Before Abraham. Before creation itself. The One of whom John writes, "All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made" (John 1:3, ESV). If anyone could have claimed a relationship with the Father that nobody else could share, it was Him.
Yet when the disciples ask Him how to pray, He doesn't put distance between Himself and them. He doesn't stand on one side and tell everyone else to stay behind the rope. Instead, He invites them in.
"Our Father."
Just think about who is standing there hearing those words. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Men who still misunderstand half of what Jesus is teaching. Men who are going to argue about who is the greatest. Men who are going to fall asleep when they should be praying and run away when they should be standing firm. In other words, people. Very human people.
And Jesus looks at them and says, "Our Father."
Not because God became less holy.
Not because sin suddenly stopped mattering.
Not because everybody got a participation trophy.
Because Jesus came to make a way for sinners to be adopted into the family of God.
I think sometimes we approach God as though He is a customer service department. We carefully prepare our request. We hope we say the right words. We wonder whether we're bothering Him. We secretly suspect He has more important things to do than listen to us.
Meanwhile Jesus is saying, "Our Father."
The God who spoke galaxies into existence. The God who knows every star by name. The God who holds together every atom in the universe somehow wants His people to know Him as Father.
That should stop us in our tracks.
Because Jesus starts there before anything else. Before daily bread. Before forgiveness. Before temptation. Before the kingdom. Before any requests are made at all, He starts with relationship.
"Our Father."
The Gospel is not simply the story of how people avoid judgment. It is the story of how rebels become sons and daughters. It is the story of adoption. It is the story of a God who looked at people who had wandered far from Him and decided not merely to forgive them, but to bring them home.
That is one of those truths that should never stop amazing us.
Because let's be honest. Most of us know ourselves pretty well. We know our failures. We know our doubts. We know the things we've done and the things we've left undone. If salvation depended on us being impressive enough, we'd all be in trouble.
Instead, Romans 8:15 says, "You have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!'" (ESV).
Adoption.
Family.
Belonging.
That was always the plan.
And someday every prayer that seemed unanswered, every burden that felt too heavy, every loss that left a hole in our hearts, every question we wrestled with, and every fear that kept us awake at night will finally be behind us. We will stand before the God whom Jesus taught us to call Father.
Not a stranger.
Not a distant ruler we never really knew.
Not someone meeting us for the first time.
Our Father.
And I think there is something beautiful about realizing that the very first words Jesus taught us to pray point all the way to the ending of the story.
Because the goal was never simply getting us into Heaven.
The goal was bringing His children home.
Father’s Day 2026
Happy Father's Day.
And as with most holidays, I know today lands a little differently depending on who is reading this.
For some of you, today is easy. You get to call your dad. Maybe you'll have a barbecue. Maybe you'll sit around telling stories that have somehow gotten slightly more dramatic every year they've been told. Maybe you'll laugh about old family memories and roll your eyes at the same dad jokes you've heard for decades. Those are gifts. Don't take them for granted.
For some of you, though, today hurts.
Maybe your dad is already Home. Maybe Father's Day means remembering a man whose voice you can still hear in your head even though it's been years since you've heard it with your ears. Maybe it means wishing you could ask one more question, hear one more story, get one more piece of advice, or just sit across the table from him one more time.
And for some people, Father's Day is hard for a completely different reason. Not because your father is gone, but because the relationship was never what it should have been. Not everyone has memories filled with support, encouragement, and safety. Sometimes Father's Day can feel less like a celebration and more like a reminder of what should have been but wasn't.
Then there are the men who desperately wanted children and never had them. The fathers who have buried a son or daughter. The grandfathers who miss the grandkids who moved away. The stepdads wondering if the children they helped raise really know how much they love them. The foster dads who opened their homes and hearts knowing goodbyes would eventually come. The men who became father figures simply because a kid needed somebody to show up.
Many of the most important things fathers do aren't the big dramatic moments. They're the thousands of ordinary ones.
It's getting up and going to work when you'd rather stay home. It's fixing things nobody notices unless they break. It's carrying burdens quietly. It's teaching a child how to work, how to keep their word, how to treat people, how to pray, how to keep going when life gets hard.
It's being tired and showing up anyway.
A lot of fathers don't get thanked nearly enough.
The funny thing is that when we're kids, we assume our parents know everything. Then we become adults and realize they were figuring things out as they went, just like the rest of us. They made mistakes. They worried more than we knew. They carried responsibilities we never saw. And somehow, despite all that, many of them kept putting one foot in front of the other and doing the best they could.
So today, if your dad is still here, give him a call.
If he's already Home, spend a few minutes remembering him.
If Father's Day is painful, know that you're not alone.
And to all the dads, grandpas, stepdads, foster dads, adoptive dads, and father figures out there: thank you.
The world changes because ordinary men choose, day after day, to love, lead, provide, protect, teach, and show up.
That may not always make headlines.
But it matters more than most people realize.
