I recently heard Josh McDowell speaking about the “King of Pop” Michael Jackson. Michael is quoted speaking about the first year of the Jackson Five. Michael was only five years old. In a rehearsal with his brothers, he stopped to ask his father a question. “Dad,” he began. His father abruptly responded, “I’m not your dad; I’m your manager.”

Speaking in a graduation ceremony to 800 students in England several years ago, Michael began to cry. His tears turned into weeping, so much so that a student rose from the audience and brought a tissue box to the podium. Upon gaining composure, Michael stated, “All I have ever wanted is to be loved by my father.”

This Sunday will be a different Father’s Day for me. My dad passed away last July. I have so many memories leading up to this day of my time with him, his words, his laughter, his joy, his counsel, his teaching, pitching baseball almost daily in the back yard, learning to drive, riding bikes, walking together, listening for hours to my piano playing, watching classics like Hawaii 5-O, Gunsmoke and Wild Kingdom. I remember sitting on the floor outside his office door listening to him pray and prepare his sermons. I remember talking to him about being a husband, being a dad, being a minister and pastor, seeking his advice, listening to his words … I remember his prayers.

I give honor to this great man whom God used to form me, guide me, inspire me and cover me with prayers and Biblical direction. I give honor to this husband, father, grandfather, pastor, and leader. I give honor to my dad.

But I also think about the many Michael Jackson’s in this world, especially in the inner city where we focus our ministry. So many are like him. A pastor from Detroit recently told me about his teenage daughter’s friend coming home from school and staring intently at him. She eventually asked the pastor’s daughter, “Who is that man in your house?” The daughter replied, “That’s my dad. He lives here.” The friend replied, “I’ve never been in a house where a man lives there.”

This may be extreme, but not abnormal. Fathers are absent. They have disappeared from the lives of their children. More than 85 percent of children in the South Bronx are fatherless, and our government has aided the process by robbing from men the role of working and supporting their families. “We don’t need you to do that in poor communities. We will do it for you.” And men are reduced to making babies. And children grow up with a vacuum and a lack of understanding of and relationship with fathers. And the enemy of our souls takes advantage of it by screwing up their understanding of Father God.

Despite all of these things, these words are true: He is a father to the fatherless, and He brings the orphans into a family. God does this. Through His blood, His mercy and His grace, He repairs the wounds of father absence, neglect and abuse and heals the hearts of the wounded. He is faithful. He is loving Father and Healer, Friend and King.

Let us not forget that He chooses to be Father through us, His church. To what wounded soul can you be a godly man who points to the wonder and majesty of Father God?