Where Faith Meets Reason

The Conversations You Never Had

Day 173 of 365

Most of us can think of words we never said.

The apology we delayed. The gratitude we assumed was understood. The question we were afraid to ask. The encouragement we thought could wait until later.

Life has a way of reminding us that later is never guaranteed.

Faith may call us to speak with honesty and love. Reason may remind us that relationships are built through communication, not assumptions. Both encourage us to say what matters while we still have the opportunity.

Not every conversation will go the way you hope. But silence has a way of creating regrets that honesty often avoids.

Carry this with you today: If something important needs to be said, don’t wait forever.

The Power of a Second Chance

Day 172 of 365

Most of us can point to moments when we needed another chance. A mistake. A bad decision. A missed opportunity. A season we wish we could do over.

What makes life remarkable is that second chances often appear in unexpected forms. Sometimes they come through forgiveness. Sometimes through growth. Sometimes through the simple gift of a new day.

Faith may call this grace. Reason may call it resilience and the human capacity to learn. Both remind us that our worst moments do not have to become our permanent identity.

You are more than your mistakes. You are more than your failures. You are more than the chapter you wish had gone differently.

Carry this with you today: As long as there is breath in your lungs, there is still a next chapter to write.

Father’s Day Thoughts

My dad died in 1986 from alcoholism and su***de.

My parents divorced when I was somewhere between two and three years old. After that, Dad moved to Oklahoma, where he lived until his death. Looking back, I can count on two hands the number of times I spent any meaningful time with him after the divorce.

For many years, I carried confusion, hurt, questions, and a relationship that never had the chance to become what I wished it could have been.

Then something happened.

The Bible tells us to honor our father and mother. It doesn’t say to honor them only if they were perfect. It doesn’t say to honor them only if they did everything right. It simply says to honor them.

That was a difficult lesson for me.

Through recovery, faith, prayer, Scripture, and the guidance of people wiser than myself, I slowly learned how to honor my father—not by pretending he was something he wasn’t, but by accepting him as he was.

A flawed man.

A hurting man.

A man who lost a battle many others have lost.

When I finally came to terms with that relationship, something unexpected happened.

The healing didn’t stop with me.

It led to reconciliation and meaningful relationships with my half-sisters from my father’s previous marriage and with other relatives I likely never would have known otherwise.

What I thought was the end of a story became the beginning of several beautiful new ones.

That’s the ripple effect.

Life rarely unfolds the way we think it should. Sometimes we don’t understand why things happen the way they do. But I have found that when we trust the process, obey what we know is right, honor our parents, forgive others, and even learn to love our enemies, remarkable things begin to happen.

I’ve spent more than three decades visiting prisons.

If you took me into almost any state prison and asked me to speak with 100 inmates, I could tell you three things that would be true an overwhelming majority of the time:

First, their relationship with their earthly father was compromised in some way—through absence, neglect, abuse, addiction, abandonment, or dysfunction.

Second, their reading, writing, and comprehension skills are often below average.

Third, their relationship with God is frequently confused, distorted, damaged, or nonexistent.

Over the years, I’ve seen these patterns too many times to ignore them.

A father’s influence matters.

The relationship we have with our earthly father often shapes how we see our Heavenly Father.

The evidence isn’t just academic to me. It’s what I’ve seen, heard, and experienced firsthand.

So if you’re a dad reading this today, pay attention.

Your children are watching.

They don’t need perfection.

None of us can give them that.

But they do need your presence, your effort, your integrity, your affection, and your example.

Give them everything you’ve got.

And if you’re someone carrying a father wound, if you’ve got a hole in your soul shaped like a dad who wasn’t there, don’t let that be the end of your story.

Through recovery.

Through counseling.

Through therapy.

Through faith.

Through seeking, asking, and knocking.

Healing is possible.

The ripple effects of that healing may take you places you never imagined.

If you had a wonderful father, I’m genuinely happy for you.

If you didn’t, remember this:

Your past may explain part of your story, but it does not have to define its ending.

Choose wisely.

Grace & Peace,

Harold E. Long