John 20:19-23 

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

I was speaking with my younger brother Jared a while back and was talking with him about the different experiences and thoughts I was having about God.  As some of you may know, I usually don't have a problem talking about God, often times in dingy gay bars.  My brother, very earnestly, asked me if I was perhaps trying to reconnect with my father in some way by becoming so involved in church.  I have to admit that I was a little dumb founded and couldn't come up with an answer that felt right to me.  If I said no, would I be denying the impact that my father continues to have in my faith in God?  If I said yes, would I be subverting Christ as my true foundation?  More importantly, does it really matter how I came and continue to live into the Christian faith?

My father really does have a great impact on how I view God and without him I wouldn't be speaking with you today.   The most important letter that I have ever received was from my father a couple years before his death.  It is perhaps the only guidance that I have from him that I can turn to, to remember his love and passion that he had for me and my future.  The last time I saw him was at his farm the day before he had a massive coronary that ended his life.  I was twenty years old and was in a hurry to go see my boyfriend who I was madly in love with, the same boy who broke up with me a few weeks later by email when he was in Europe.  Before I drove off to meet him, my father kept trying to engage me in debate about Iraq, which the US invaded twelve days prior.  I remember looking at him as I drove away and I sarcastically waved goodbye.  I remember the look he had in his eyes as he watched me drive away.  I was his first son to graduate from high school, the first to attend college, and the last of his children that he saw baptized.  Still, his eyes were apprehensive when he looked me and they displayed an intense hope that he had for my life.  Looking back, I know actually what he was worried about.

My father struggled in every way possible.  He was the youngest child with a non-supportive father and a cold stepmother.  However, he was successful in winning the heart of my mother, fell in love, and fathered five children.  He bought a home, founded his own construction company that brought in a great deal of money and hired dozens of employees.  Soon, however, the chemicals involved with the work he did began to turn against him and became a toxin that infected his mind and body.  In time, he fell into a path of anger and frustration that led him into becoming an emotionally abusive father and husband.  Eventually he lost everything, including his health, his wife and children and even his ability to participate in basic social functions.  At times it was so bad and his body was so sensitive to chemicals that he had to wear a gas mask in order to attend church, because the perfume that people wore was so toxic to him.  Although his life and his character did change for the better, becoming the amazing man I know today, he never let his faith in God waver.