By Matthew F. Leighty
Executive Director

“The LORD your God who goes before you will himself fight for you, just as he did for you in Egypt before your eyes, and in the wilderness, where you have seen how the LORD your God carried you, as a man carries his son, all the way that you went until you came to this place.”

Deuteronomy 1:30-31

Some of my best conversations happen when I least expect them. The other day, it was with my son, Ian — just the two of us talking through the weight of parenting — the decisions you second-guess, and the ones you simply get wrong. My wife, Kelli, and I had nearly the same conversation earlier that day. And somewhere in all of it, I found myself thinking: Fatherhood is hard. Profoundly joyful, but hard. No one does it perfectly.

Kelli and I have worked hard and sought God’s will. By His grace, our kids seem to be turning out pretty well. They are still works in progress, and, if I am honest, so am I. Any parent knows you can do everything right and still end up on your knees. Every father falls short. Culture knows this, too, though it often draws the wrong conclusions. In recent decades, fatherhood has been caricatured, dismissed, and diminished, leaving real damage in many families. In our world, we see people every day who carry wounds from fathers who were absent, distracted, or simply did not give what was needed.

Into all of that, God speaks. His Word in Deuteronomy sustains us, blesses us, and strengthens our faith.

Moses, at the edge of the Promised Land, reminds the Israelites of what they witnessed. God fought for them and carried them through Egypt and the wilderness. They spent 40 years wandering, filled with doubt and failure. Still, He carried them every step of the way, as a man carries his son.

That image stops me every time I read it.

Whatever your earthly father was or was not — whatever kind of father you have been or tried to be — there is a Father who has never once set you down or let you down. Who has gone before you into every hard place. Who fights on your behalf. Who carries you still.

That same carrying love — the love that fought for Israel — meets each of us through Holy Baptism. It began at the font.

When Ian was baptized, we chose a hymn that has rung in my head ever since that precious day he became an adopted child of God. “Father Welcomes” (LSB #605) is a baptismal hymn rooted in the promise that in the waters of Baptism, the Father draws His children into His family through His Son. It is the hymn of a Father who claims us, names us, and calls us His own.

“Father welcomes all His children To His fam’ly through His Son. Father giving His salvation, Life forever has been won.”

In the waters of Baptism, that is exactly what happened to Ian. And to you. And to me. The heavenly Father did not stand at a distance and assess whether we were worthy of welcome. He claimed us. He named us. He wrapped the robe of Christ’s righteousness around our shoulders and called us His own. Every sin forgiven; the relationship restored — not by our climbing up to Him but by His running to us.

This is the fatherhood that does not fail. The love that does not depend on our performance, our faithfulness, or our worthiness to receive it. On the days when earthly fatherhood feels impossibly heavy — when you are aware of every shortcoming, each missed moment, every word you wish you could take back — you can return to the font. You can remember what was spoken over you there.

And He does not leave you there alone. He comes to you still in His Word and at His Table, delivering that same Fatherly love to you again and again.

The hymn’s next stanza says it plainly:

“In the water, in the Word, In His promise, be assured: Those who are baptized and believe Shall be born again.”

You were brought. You did not find your way to the Father on your own — you were carried there, just as surely as Israel was carried through the wilderness. And what was given to you in that very moment has never been taken back. You are a child of the heavenly Father. He carried you to those waters. He carries you still.

It is one of the great privileges of this ministry to journey alongside you in that carried life, day after day.

This Father’s Day, may His Fatherly love be your rest and your rejoicing.