Spiritual Fatherhood

I grew up not knowing who my father was.

For the first ten years of my life, I called my stepdad “dad” and even had his last name. But around age eight, I found out he wouldn’t be adopting me after all. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember learning to spell a new last name, Blizzard. That moment stayed with me.

What I didn’t understand at the time was that I felt rejected. Something inside me began to ask: Am I not worth keeping? When I was twelve, I found my birth certificate. The space for “father” was blank. I had a loving family, but that space shouted louder than anything else—Who am I? Where do I belong?

Today, one in four kids in the U.S. lives without a father in the home. And many who do have dads don’t feel connected to them. That kind of ache leaves a mark.

But here’s the good news: God is a Father to the fatherless. He meets us in our pain and starts to rewrite the story. I’ve seen Him do it in my life.

In 2 Kings 2, Elijah is about to be taken to heaven. Elisha, his apprentice, refuses to leave his side. They weren’t just mentor and student, they were like father and son. Before Elijah goes, Elisha asks for a double portion of his spirit, not because he wants more power but to carry on Elijah’s legacy. He wants to be known as his spiritual son.

When Elijah is taken up in a whirlwind, Elisha picks up his cloak, strikes the river, and watches it part. Just like that, he steps into the calling that had been growing in him all along. This is what spiritual fatherhood and motherhood look like: passing on identity, calling, and courage to the next generation.

Over the years, God gave me spiritual fathers who helped me heal and grow. They showed me what it means to live as a daughter of God. But recently, God did something even more personal.

A few months ago, I had a dream. In it, I took a DNA test and discovered my biological father and family. Years earlier, I had taken the same test and found nothing. But this dream felt different. So, for Christmas, I asked for that same test. Rich gave it to me, and I mailed it in. Three weeks later, just after returning from a missions conference, the results returned.

Two matches. Two women. One of them wrote: “Jessica, I’m your aunt. My brother is your father. You have three half-sisters. You look like us.” Just like that, the blank space had a name.

I dropped to the floor in tears. Years of pain, wondering, and praying all spilled out. My son, home sick that day, sat beside me as I cried tears of joy and peace. Since then, I’ve spoken with my new aunt and sisters. I haven’t talked to my biological father yet, and I may never, but I’ve found peace. Because I know who my Father is.

There are people in your life right now wondering who they are and where they belong. And you may be the one God wants to use to speak identity and love into their story. If you feel a tug to be a spiritual father or mother for someone else, lean in. Someone is likely waiting for you to show up.

If you long for a spiritual father or mother, ask God to show you who He’s already placed around you. Take a step toward connection. Jesus said, “I will not leave you as orphans” (John 14:18). He gives us a name, a place to belong, and a family to walk with.

I may have grown up with a blank space on my birth certificate, but now I know exactly who I am.