I’m the daughter of a pastor who fell into prescription drug abuse.
My early years are full of happy memories of a father who was present, engaged, and loving. But when I was 15 years old, my father began experiencing chronic headaches and pain. He started taking medication that was meant to help him recover, but for the next 20 years, these drugs were a source of great harm as my father fell into addiction and substance abuse.
It’s big news when a pastor falls from grace, and there are countless stories of how this affects churches. When you’re on the outside looking in, it’s easy to make assumptions and judgments about the pastor and his choices. But it’s hard to live through when you’re the pastor’s kid.
As a small town, Native American girl, I idolized my father. I looked to him for approval, guidance, and identity. He wasn’t only our church’s pastor; he was also my pastor, counselor, and friend. I found stability in his consistency. But when his consistency and friendship were no longer available to me because of his addiction, I became consumed with fear and mistrust, both of him and of the world. Questions about my identity and security threatened to undo me.
3 Truths I Learned from My Father’s Fall
Although it’s a road I never would have chosen for myself or our family, this season of pain and sorrow has helped me experience three hard-won truths about the Lord.
1. The love I need is found in Christ.
When substance abuse changed the dynamics of my relationship with my father, I began to question his love for me. I thought that if he truly loved me, he would seek help and loosen his grip on medication. “Can’t you see what your choices are doing to yourself, me, and our family?” I’d ask, only to hear his plethora of explanations for why I was wrong.
He wasn’t only our church’s pastor; he was also my pastor, counselor, and friend.
Subconsciously, lies began to reverberate in my mind––lies that I was unloved, unseen, and unheard. These descriptors weighed heavily on my heart, and my father’s behavior often made those lies feel true. But as I no longer received the connection I needed from my dad, I had the opportunity to cling to the love of God instead.
By searching the Scriptures, I found that my ability to be loved isn’t ultimately defined by any human relationship. God’s love is unending and unchanging (Ps. 136:26; Rom. 8:38–39). Nothing we do––or don’t do––can earn this love, because God himself is love (1 John 4:16). The God who loves us never drifts beyond our reach, flees from our presence, or takes his eyes from us. No matter what our earthly relationships are like, God’s love for us will never end and never falter.
2. My identity is found in Christ.
Eventually, my father’s substance abuse brought an end to his church ministry and my parents’ marriage. It changed our family dynamics. After I chose to set healthy boundaries in my relationship with him, I struggled with my identity. I no longer saw myself as the proud daughter of a pastor or as someone with the “perfect” family––and it made me question who I was. I had to go to God in prayer and search his Word to find my identity.
Scripture is clear that as children of God, our identity rests in him. The challenge was to retrain my brain (and heart) to accept this truth. Written in the pages of my journal are a few statements I often repeat: I am the daughter of the King of kings (Eph. 1:5), blessed (v. 3, 6), chosen (v. 4), and redeemed (v. 7). God has a good purpose for my life (v. 5). He lavished his grace on me (v. 8), and he provides a wonderful inheritance for me (vv. 11, 14).
As painful as the strained relationship with my father was, it sent me to the arms of the One who can never let me down––and it taught me more about who I am. For those of us in Christ, our identity comes from and is defined by our heavenly Father.
3. My security is found in Christ.
The security that comes from having good parents is God’s kind gift to many children. Before my father’s substance abuse began, I had rightly expected that my father would provide security. But his addiction changed it all as the sense of security he once offered me was stripped away. When he failed, I had an opportunity to learn that my security is not ultimately in my parents but in the Lord who is our perfect Father.
Years later, even when my father sought help and our relationship began to heal, it looked different than it had before. I’d learned the Lord’s design for us isn’t to base our stability in another human. Jesus alone cannot fail. He’s the only One who can meet every need (Phil. 4:19). He’s our “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa. 9:6).
As painful as the strained relationship with my father was, it sent me to the arms of the One who can never let me down.
With God’s help, my heart and mind were realigned to the truth of who God is according to Scripture, praying continually, and resting in God as my unfailing Father. These things freed my heart to love my father—but not depend on him alone for security.
The next time you read a story of a failed pastor, remember the heartbroken family sitting in the shadows. Their foundation is crumbling to the ground. Let compassion for them fill your heart, and may your first response be to cry out to God for the family to find love, identity, and security in the Almighty God.
The Gospel Coalition