In my book ‘The Man in the Window”, I share a bit about my personal relationship with my birth father, who was an alcoholic.  My struggles with him growing up, and then later in life, when we had reconciled our relationship and the healing process that God walked me through in our relationship. I loved my  father, he was one of my best friends.  I miss him daily.  We celebrate his birthday every year by cooking spaghetti (his favorite meal to cook).  He had his faults, just like we all do.  He was a character, with a big heart, never met a stranger.  He obviously had his flaws, which we all do, unfortunately some things he never was able to overcome. I loved him. 

 

In the 8th chapter titled “Go with them”, I share how my father eventually started coming to church with me after not attending for the previous 20+ years. I can remember seeing him walking into the door at the back of the church, looking for me, and making his way to sit next to me and my family.   The stench of cheap whiskey was always on his breath, he never was drunk per se’, but you always knew it was there.   He’d sit next to me, undoubtedly fall asleep during the message.  I’d knee him a couple of times, to wake him up, then church would be over.   

 

I can remember how frustrated I was at my father’s choices.  I was embarrassed for him.  Then one weekend, he showed up and had three strangers with him.  He’d met them that morning and told them to get in his truck and come to church.  The next week it might be four different people.  My dad, the alcoholic evangelist.  Sounds crazy doesn’t it.  It sure was crazy to me.   He was, even in his old age, one of the most effective people at inviting others to come to church.  He sat by me and my family nearly every Sunday for two years, and sadly there wasn’t a single one that I wasn’t embarrassed by.  

 

Years later, I was preaching a message on the Prodigal Son. In the story of the Prodigal, most times our focus is on the younger son, who leaves and returns.  Some times the focus of this parable may be on the father, and how he dropped everything and ran towards the son with reckless abandonment upon his return.   

For me this was different.  I was neither the prodigal, nor the father.  I was the offended brother.   I had spent years praying for my father to come back to the Lord.   I had thought all along that the solution was get him to church (notice the absence of relationship).  His return happened over the course of the three years that he lived with me.  I missed it though, I missed the celebration, because I was too caught up in all of his sin to recognize the beauty of his return.  

 

I was too caught up in the stench of his cheap whiskey, and here he was sharing the gospel with different people every week and carrying them to church with him.   I was too worried that someone would notice all his faults, that I missed the celebration feast.  

 

Don’t be like I was, don’t miss all the amazing things that God is doing in other people’s lives, because you are too offended at the worldly faults that you see.  We could all learn a little from my father the alcoholic evangelist.  That is to love everyone exactly where they are at.  When was the last time you invited someone to church?  When was the last time you shared with someone all the great things God has done in your life?  He was no where near perfect.  He died that year, after two strokes.  He never overcame his alcohol addiction.  But he sure knew how to love his family, and he sure knew how to tell people about Jesus.