We all inherit a legacy from the men who came before us. Some of that legacy is good — sacrifice, protection, provision. Some of it is painful — absence, misunderstanding, or failure. As sons, it’s easy to focus on what our fathers didn’t give us. But if we stay there, we risk carrying that pain into the next generation. There’s a better option than blame or bitterness: forgiveness. We must let go of old wounds and decide what kind of fathers — and men — we want to become. Generational growth starts with generational grace.
It is easy to look back and critique what we think our father should have done differently without considering how he was raised, the relational dynamics between his parents, and the communication, leadership, or relationship skills he did or didn’t develop.
My dad and I struggled to connect on a deeper level for most of my life, but we found common ground in motorcycles. That became our language — our way of understanding each other when words fell short. Just before he passed, we told each other, “I love you.” And I believe with all my heart that if he had known how to do better by me, he would have — because he loved me.
Yet, like many men, he wrestled with the memory of the 35-year-old version of himself — the man he wished he had been. But there’s no victory in battling a version of ourselves that no longer exists. Forgiving others is hard; forgiving ourselves is often harder. That’s where grace steps in.
I know men who are currently battling their 35-year-old fathers. The problem is, their father is now in his 70s. Our fathers have had to grapple with their inadequacies and failures, just as we have had to find our path to overcome the effects of those shortcomings. But we must go further and forgive our fathers for the unintentional missteps in raising us.
Raising and providing for my own family has helped me see my father in a different light. As kids, we don’t realize what it takes to raise children or appreciate the degree of sacrifice it requires.
During a conversation with men in my small group, one of the guys said, “Being married is hard. Raising kids is hard.” There was a pause, and I asked, “Would you want it to be easy?” Every man said no, because there is no value without effort. There’s no value in easy. We put in the work because our families are worth it. That means accepting our shortcomings and learning from them.
As a 35-year-old father, I made mistakes. Looking back now, I see that those mistakes were the fuel that helped me grow. I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror, so I decided that he had to change.
Your life is being recorded. Whether we recognize it or not, we are teaching our boys what it means to be good sons, brothers, husbands and fathers with every word we speak and action we do or don’t take. They internalize how a marriage should function, how a man should talk and act. They are learning how to take care of others and what a God-centered family looks like. They are inclined to mimic us, and one day, they’ll play that footage back.
Realizing this is humbling and compels this exhortation to forgive our fathers. We can’t let the mistakes they made rob us from enjoying what they did correctly. That’s a lesson I hope my son has learned.
I’ve chosen not to judge my father by the missteps of his younger self. When he died, he wasn’t 35 — he was in his sixties, and by then, he was a good man. A man who had grown, who had tried, and who had loved the best way he knew how.
Carrying around unforgiveness is like me carrying around a hundred-pound backpack. I can’t play with my kids or show up for my family in the ways they need me when I’m lugging around the baggage of my past. They would be getting less the father they deserve and a more restricted, and exhausted shell of myself. To be all that I was created by God to be and to live with intention and purpose in the design of fatherhood, I must shed the unnecessary weight of unforgiveness.
Forgiveness doesn’t come naturally. It requires grace — a strength beyond ourselves. It calls us to let go of past pain and offenses, not once, but daily. It’s a continual act of surrender that frees us to move forward.
You are not the 35-year-old version of your father. You’re a new man — shaped by his story, refined by grace and guided by a higher calling. Forgive your father. Honor his journey, but don’t repeat his missteps. It’s time to lead with faith, wisdom, and redemption.
* * *
This article is adapted from “The Return of Man: America’s Only Hope is in our Original Hope.”
Jimmy Graham, CEO of Able Shepherd, is a veteran Navy SEAL and former CIA Global Response Staff Protective Officer with over two decades of experience in high-risk environments worldwide. He is author of “The Return of Man.”
The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.
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We all inherit a legacy from the men who came before us. Some of that legacy is good — sacrifice, protection, provision. Some of it is painful — absence, misunderstanding, or failure. As sons, it’s easy to focus on what our fathers didn’t give us. But if we stay there, we risk carrying that pain into the next generation. There’s a better option than blame or bitterness: forgiveness. We must let go of old wounds and decide what kind of fathers — and men — we want to become. Generational growth starts with generational grace.
It is easy to look back and critique what we think our father should have done differently without considering how he was raised, the relational dynamics between his parents, and the communication, leadership, or relationship skills he did or didn’t develop.
My dad and I struggled to connect on a deeper level for most of my life, but we found common ground in motorcycles. That became our language — our way of understanding each other when words fell short. Just before he passed, we told each other, “I love you.” And I believe with all my heart that if he had known how to do better by me, he would have — because he loved me.
Yet, like many men, he wrestled with the memory of the 35-year-old version of himself — the man he wished he had been. But there’s no victory in battling a version of ourselves that no longer exists. Forgiving others is hard; forgiving ourselves is often harder. That’s where grace steps in.
I know men who are currently battling their 35-year-old fathers. The problem is, their father is now in his 70s. Our fathers have had to grapple with their inadequacies and failures, just as we have had to find our path to overcome the effects of those shortcomings. But we must go further and forgive our fathers for the unintentional missteps in raising us.
Raising and providing for my own family has helped me see my father in a different light. As kids, we don’t realize what it takes to raise children or appreciate the degree of sacrifice it requires.
During a conversation with men in my small group, one of the guys said, “Being married is hard. Raising kids is hard.” There was a pause, and I asked, “Would you want it to be easy?” Every man said no, because there is no value without effort. There’s no value in easy. We put in the work because our families are worth it. That means accepting our shortcomings and learning from them.
As a 35-year-old father, I made mistakes. Looking back now, I see that those mistakes were the fuel that helped me grow. I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror, so I decided that he had to change.
Your life is being recorded. Whether we recognize it or not, we are teaching our boys what it means to be good sons, brothers, husbands and fathers with every word we speak and action we do or don’t take. They internalize how a marriage should function, how a man should talk and act. They are learning how to take care of others and what a God-centered family looks like. They are inclined to mimic us, and one day, they’ll play that footage back.
Realizing this is humbling and compels this exhortation to forgive our fathers. We can’t let the mistakes they made rob us from enjoying what they did correctly. That’s a lesson I hope my son has learned.
I’ve chosen not to judge my father by the missteps of his younger self. When he died, he wasn’t 35 — he was in his sixties, and by then, he was a good man. A man who had grown, who had tried, and who had loved the best way he knew how.
Carrying around unforgiveness is like me carrying around a hundred-pound backpack. I can’t play with my kids or show up for my family in the ways they need me when I’m lugging around the baggage of my past. They would be getting less the father they deserve and a more restricted, and exhausted shell of myself. To be all that I was created by God to be and to live with intention and purpose in the design of fatherhood, I must shed the unnecessary weight of unforgiveness.
Forgiveness doesn’t come naturally. It requires grace — a strength beyond ourselves. It calls us to let go of past pain and offenses, not once, but daily. It’s a continual act of surrender that frees us to move forward.
You are not the 35-year-old version of your father. You’re a new man — shaped by his story, refined by grace and guided by a higher calling. Forgive your father. Honor his journey, but don’t repeat his missteps. It’s time to lead with faith, wisdom, and redemption.
* * *
This article is adapted from “The Return of Man: America’s Only Hope is in our Original Hope.”
Jimmy Graham, CEO of Able Shepherd, is a veteran Navy SEAL and former CIA Global Response Staff Protective Officer with over two decades of experience in high-risk environments worldwide. He is author of “The Return of Man.”
The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.
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