It has been said that each one of us comes into the world with a hole in our heart the shape of our dad. And when this hole is not filled, the void is often referred to as “the father wound.” Here’s how I defined it on a project I did for the Bureau of Justice Assistance when I was working for National Fatherhood Initiative:
The “father wound” is a phrase often used to refer to the psychological and emotional pain related to one or more of the following: growing up without an involved, responsible, and committed father; growing up with a father who was physically present but emotionally absent; growing up with a verbally or physically abusive father; growing up not knowing who your father was.[1]
And here’s another excellent definition:
[Father wounds] are “wounds caused by a distant, emotionally unavailable, physically absent, or abusive father run deep and leave a gaping hole behind that can, like an unseen congenital defect, diminish the quality of a man’s life or escalate over time into something worse. The father wound can be the driving force in a man’s life—for good or ill. It can be the making of a man who resolves to do things differently from his dad or morph into a seething rage that transfers the pain to others and repeats the cycle.”[2]I remember being in Atlanta a little over ten years ago. I was at a hotel eating breakfast and preparing to speak at a Counselor’s Conference for the Southern Territory of the Salvation Army on “Why Dads Matter So Much to God.” I picked up the complimentary issue of USA Today and was intrigued by the cover story on former heavyweight boxing champion, Mike Tyson.[3] He was getting ready to turn forty. I was too. The 2005 interview gave this description of Tyson:
“Anything but at peace. Confused and humiliated after a decadent lifestyle left him with broken relationships, shattered finances and a reputation in ruin, the fighter cannot hide his insecurities, stacked as high as his legendary knockouts. He frets about his place in this world—where he comes from, where he’s headed and how the life and times of Michael Gerard Tyson will play out. “I’ll never be happy,” he says. “I believe I’ll die alone. I would want it that way. I’ve been a loner all my life with my secrets and my pain. I’m really lost, but I’m trying to find myself . . . I’m really a sad, pathetic case . . . My whole life has been a waste. I’ve been a failure.”[4]
I continued to read on, looking for that piece of information that I knew I would find. There it was: Tyson was a then-divorced father of six who “has doubts and questions beyond legacy. He is angry and still doesn’t know the identity of his real father.”[5] Now, by all accounts, Mr. Tyson has found some measure of healing since this article was written, but this snapshot from his life provides a particularly vivid example of the father wound and its generational impact.
The father wound is a pervasive theme in many of our stories. Yet, as most of us have learned, personal growth is messy and not easily packaged. For example, we don’t miraculously heal from our wounds in chapter one and then move forward neatly and unscathed into chapter two. As the late spiritual guide Henri Houwen discerned, all of us—even at our best—are just “wounded healers.” To say it another way, we don’t have the luxury of understanding and eradicating everything wrong with us before we start being good friends, spouses, or parents. And so, it’s not that many of us don’t need, won’t experience, or shouldn’t pursue healing. It’s just that with God in the picture and as we look to him in humility, often “the wound is where the light shines through.”[6]
For reflection & discussion: They say that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. And we know that similar circumstances can make one person bitter and one better. What makes the difference? And do you agree or disagree with the statement: “The wound is where the light shines through?” I am thinking through this myself and would love to hear your thoughts!
[1] Engaging Fathers for Successful Reentry: Research, Tips, Best Practices (Germantown, MD: National Fatherhood Initiative, 2011), 13.
[2] Malestrom, 78.
[3] Mike Tyson is also famous for biting the ear of his opponent, Evander Holyfield, in 1997.
[4] John Saraceno, “Tyson: ‘My Whole Life Has Been a Waste,” USA Today, June 2, 2005, accessed November 14, 2016, http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/sports/boxing/2005-06-02-tyson-saraceno_x.htm.
[5] Ibid.
[6] This phrase is a lyric from the title track of Switchfoot’s 2016 album Where the Light Shines Through and is closely connected (if not inspired by) Leonard Cohen’s great lyric from his song “Anthem:”
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in