A Quiet Epidemic

In America,
63% of youth suicides
71% of pregnant teenagers
70% of juveniles in state-operated institutions
85% of all youth who exhibit behavior disorders
71% of high school dropouts
85% of teenagers in prison

...come from fatherless homes.

Recently, I finished reading the book Fatherless Generation, by John Sowers. While I was saddened by the above statistics that greeted me within the first few pages of the book, I was even more saddened by my lack of surprise at Sowers' grim account of the pandemic of fatherlessness in America. Shouldn't statistics like these shock me?! Shouldn't I be appalled?!

The reality is, I see these statistics every day. I go to school with these statistics. I sit next to these statistics in church. I counsel these statistics every week at the local crisis pregnancy center. I goof off with these statistics every Sunday night at youth group functions. I pass these statistics in the grocery, on the street, at the post office. These statistics...are faces. They are names. They are real, live, hurting people. And somehow, I become numb to the faces, to the wound that has assailed them all...the wound called fatherlessness. Familylessness.

As I read the last page of Sowers' book and shut the cover, I was bewildered, confused even. How did we get to this place? Where do we go from here? What does all this mean for me? Is there any way to redeem the brokenness that has scarred millions of lives?

I was blessed with 18 years of life under the love and guardianship of an incredible dad. I never wondered if I was loved or protected. I was always tucked in at night, hugged and kissed and played with...by a dad who loved Jesus more than life itself.

What must it be like to grow up without a daddy? Worse still, what must it be like to grow up without a daddy OR a mommy?

Honestly, I cannot even begin to fathom what these kids (and now men and women) have faced...and are still facing. I know the pain of missing my dad, of missing the many roles that he once filled to overflowing in my life. I know the pain of longing for his strength and love and protection. But I cannot begin to comprehend what it must be like to have never known a loving parent.

Which leaves me with the question...what do I do? What do WE do? What does the Church do? Is there any redemption to be found, any hope for these lives buried in brokenness and pain?

It would be easy for me to pass the buck on to someone else. After all, I'm a 21-year-old girl, for crying out loud! The world says I should be living it up, drinking away my weekends and sleeping away my week days. It's not that easy, though.

I have been confronted with a burden, a glimpse into brokenness. And now that I have seen, I am responsible.