Dr. Charles W. Ferguson

Now that Father’s Day has past, I can finally sit with my thoughts that seem to surround this holiday. Every year for the past 36 years, I have found myself facing a funk that seems like it will just not leave me alone. I am the child of a single parent. My father has not been present. I no longer attempt to know the reasons why. All I know with certainty is that my father has not been actively engaged with me.

The only reason I celebrated the day was my grandfather. That man is my man 100 grand. I would not have made it through my most formative years without him. Nevertheless, I realize more than ever the void of not having a father present.

I never ascribed fatherly attributes to my mother. Our relationship has had its own struggles of being mother and son. She has openly admitted that she was working with the best that she had. I know that to be true. Not one day goes by when I don’t assess the sacrifices made and the challenges endured attempting to raise a young black man. Yet, the father void persisted.

Fast forward to yesterday. I stand in my home with my family sharing thoughts on fatherhood. As I stood in the same home that holds the memories of my formative years and now the future of my son’s dreams and aspirations, I held my son close to me and gave thanks to God that Charles Jeremiah will never know a day in his life where my voice and love is not present. That knowledge is the greatest joy of my life.

I submit to you that I possess an internal conflict. One side of my being understands the difficulty some people have in acknowledging strong fatherhood in the midst of their own experience. I will not take it to the levels of faulting or shaming anyone for the relationships or decisions that were made in a certain season of life. Everyone makes choices. Everyone connects with who they want in a season. Everyone is not always the full manifestation of maturity. So, I recognize why there are women who take the time to express the need to highlight their exemplary performance as mothers who go above and beyond for their children in so many areas.

Yet, another side of me struggles with the tearing down of fatherhood. Before anyone becomes deep, let me state my argument. I have heard so much about what men were not doing. Yet, every day I see and witness so much to the contrary. The majority of men that had major impact on my life are fathers. I may not have had mine, but I was around to many good fathers not to be impacted. While I can accept the sentiment and realities of the struggle of single mothers (remember I am a product), I can not live with a lack of balance regarding fatherhood.

Being on both sides of the issues, I believe I possess a greater mandate to demonstrate the best possible example of fatherhood to my son. It is not about the male dynamic alone. If or when I have a daughter, the same mandate applies. I realize how much the presence of a father matters to the development of a child. CJ knew my voice the moment he came out of the womb. Why? I talked to him every day while he was growing inside my wife. He moved in the womb at the sound of my voice. The footprint I have made in CJ’s life began before arrival.

I can truly say that I would give anything just to have the choice of whether my father would be enough for me. The choice was made for me. I never gave consent. I was not consulted. I can’t assess the level of his paternal abilities. My father was absent. I don’t know why. Yet, I can not ascribe blame to his actions. I don’t know the reasons for his disappearance. But, I do know that I praise the work of fathers who do not need to be questioned in motive. I say thank you to those who put in the work and time to cultivate a generation of better people.

I live in a tension that may never go away. I live in it with the hope of helping the hurting and encouraging the selfless. May God work this tension to produce something beautiful for the future.

When I was in middle school, I wrestled with the challenge of public speaking. (I know you’re thinking, really?) One of my greatest fears was speaking in front of people. Part of the reason I didn’t have the typical teenage dating life was not my lack of interest, but it was my deep fear of talking to young ladies. However, the fear led to becoming a dedicated writer. Go figure..

As I was saying, I had a terrible fear of verbal expressing myself. At times, I felt that nothing I said would have any weight to an environment or conversation. I did not always feel that my thoughts or opinions were welcomed. The moments that I would open my mouth, I found myself at the mercy of criticism, berating, and ridicule. So it is easy for me to see that my younger self had justified reasoning for silence.

These days, I consider the climate of our society  and realize that we are a part of a culture that thrives on the timidity and quiet of others. I am not suggesting that people are not vocal in various areas of our global community. I am saying that many times we dismiss the power of our voices for the sake of getting by. We stay silent knowing that our entire existence can be affected in an instant. Fear overtakes our resolve ultimately cause us to become stagnant in our pursue of the greater good.

The moment that saved and preserved my voice is when I read about Isaiah’s encounter with God. At 14, I felt like I just existed, and my purpose was not much. It was in the reading of the text I discovered how God will make clear your purpose. Isaiah was a foul-mouthed individual with attachments to a king. He was in the midst of mourning the loss of his mentor/hero. Isaiah’s morning found him in the temple.

In the midst of that solemn moment, God revealed the glory. Isaiah encountered the presence of God in an usual and powerful manner. “Woe is me. I am undone…” This statement was the beginning of the recognition of broken and incomplete places. Isaiah acknowledged and confessed his shortcomings and exposed the environment that aided in shaping his existence. Being in the presence of God shed light on the dysfunctional places.

However, an angel took a coal off the altar and placed it on the unclean lips of Isaiah to signify the purging of taint and stain. Isaiah was coming out of this experience at a minimum as a new man. Isaiah was not going to be the same. Yes, he would be changed but not to become an observer.

God asked a question. “Who shall I send?” The nature of the question is one of contemplation for the young man in the room with God. Consider what just took place. The presence of God burned out Isaiah’s immediate broken condition. The coal burn off the residue of previous iniquity. The experience set Isaiah ablaze from the inside out.

When I consider every moment that I encountered God, I can not look back and not feel the fire burning deep within me. No alternative exists when it comes to sharing my experience with others. I feel obligated by my own standard to tell someone how powerful and life changing God is. Yet, moments in life come to suppress that desire.

Whenever the attempt at suppression enter your space, remember this thought, “I have fire in my mouth!” What are you talking about? Any time you can recall making it through tests, trials, or difficulties, God is placing fuel that can be ignited by the Holy Spirit to speak truth to power in the lives of others. You have a witness that will alter the atmosphere. So do not allow anything to keep you silent.

So what about mental health issues? Ask God to help you find deliverance and a therapist. So what about stagnation on the job? Use your network, pray for discernment, and/or tap into your entrepreneurial creativity to make moves. What about ministry? Watch, pray, study, and serve. In every circumstance, find a way to increase the flame. You have the fire. Blaze the path and walk it like you talk it!

In this past week, the news has highlighted the death of two high profile people–Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. Their deaths come as a shock to people who have watched them through their rise to the top in the respective sectors of fashion and food. Both deaths have been reported as suicides. While many people have decided that it is worth the time now to talk about the struggle of mental health issues in the wake of their deaths, I am convinced people are still unwilling to face the root of issues in the beginning when signs develop.

As a man who has dealt with depression for many years, I can tell you without any hesitation that discussing mental and emotional health challenges at the end of one’s life is not the time to be reflective. Consider for a moment the people in your life that you dismissed when they told you “I am not ok”. Think about the people that you haven’t spoken to in years. Many people could avoid reaching places of despair with a simple, hello.

You may not believe it, but people with great responsibility just want to be treated as a human being first. It may not register right away, but your perception of what a person should be is not the priority when he or she is fighting for level ground in life. God forbid as a person of color that we declare our struggle. We still have to fight the stigma of depression, bipolar disorder, and other diagnoses are strictly demonic and prayer will fix it.

People are fighting daily to hold on. I believe that God has kept me. I also believe that God led me to counseling. I believe that medication aided me when I needed it. I am grateful to connect with friends when it is important. I am grateful to be present for people in their struggle through simple conversation. It is called wisdom. It is called human decency. It called interaction. It is called no judgment. It called facilitating an environment of “going to be ok”.

I will never forget this one encounter. I preached at a church I formerly pastored. I talked about my struggle with depression and suicide attempts that happened in my past as a teenager. Some people in this predominately African American Baptist congregation gave me the “you don’t talk about that here” look. Those individuals did not realize how many people struggle with the same things I was talking about.

A couple of days later, I was in the office. I received a phone call from a member. She always seemed pleasant. Every time I saw her, I tried to go out of my way to speak to her. However, she seemed withdrawn always. The member called to tell me something I did not expect. “Pastor, I wanted to thank you for your message Sunday. I don’t always talk all the time. I struggle with depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia. I didn’t always feel comfortable at church. But when you preach Sunday and shared your story, it was the first time I felt safe.”

The church ought to be a place of safety and refuge. The people ought to be a resource for commonality, relationship, and fellowship. We ought to be experiencing these elements not only in places of worship, but our everyday lives. Don’t wait until it’s too late. Be the change. Be the vessel of hope. Do not wait to be sparked by the plight of more known individuals. Check on your friends and family. Tell them that you love them and show them the same love. The proactive agent aids in producing the change.

#mentalhealth #katespade #anthonybourdain #hope #change