I know deep in my heart that God is my father, yet as I reflect on my childhood, I can’t think of one time God ever played catch with me, father to son. And if you really want to know the truth, I can’t remember God ever coming around the house much at all.

Every time we talk about dads in America, we picture a strong father throwing a ball back and forth with his sprite young son, teaching him how to keep a throwin’ that ball no matter what hits him in this tumultuous life. But when I think about dads, I can’t see my father at all— God is nowhere to be found.

What’s a boy to do when his father is God but God has gone away?