A 32-year-old investment banker lies on the couch searching his memories for childhood wounds.
A Lexus in the parking lot and a Wall Street portfolio brings no peace to his troubled mind. The analyst probes and questions while soft jazz helps fill the awkward silences. They’re getting close now … the banker remembers another broken promise … another missing piece of the puzzle and the analyst nods knowingly. A father’s broken promises and frequent absences have ruined this poor soul. It’s time to let the young man off the hook. “It’s not your fault,” says the good doctor, “It’s just not your fault.” Tears roll down the banker’s cheeks as he gains release from the guilt he’s carried through two divorces and countless bare-knuckled brawls on his way to the top. Absolved of all responsibility for his own choices, he firmly shakes the hand and gladly pays the fee of the man who helped him lay his guilt on the shoulders of a dead father.
We can easily justify remaining the same as long as we can lay it on someone else’s doorstep. Sure … we are influenced by our beginnings, but each and every one of us will stand before God to give our own account; no excuses; no exceptions; no scapegoats.