I’m at the gym and this one girl caught my eye. She has a very nice body, and a cute face but there are also things I don’t prefer. She also wasn’t smiling or showing traits of things I look for (not saying she doesn’t have them). An interesting thing was I noticed I wanted to go talk to her or get her Instagram, even though I felt like I was out of her league. I think it’s a no go if I start off feeling like I’m settling, and so I won’t approach her, but I wanted to introspect on why I felt attracted to her BECAUSE of the mismatch/flaws. I think it’s a well documented thing about how people will “punch down” in hopes of security or being treated better as compensation, or something along those lines. I think part of this for me is a remnant of my lower self esteem growing up, and the idea that people like that would find me attractive and I’d have a chance. I think this is obviously flawed for several reasons, but another thing that comes to mind is the concept of “potential energy.” I saw this girl, and I thought about how if she continues to work out, or changes in some way or another then it would be amazing. But you cannot control someone else or make them change, and additionally I feel like it’s a bit shitty to want or expect someone to change. I also think back to my last relationship where I held myself there because I kept hoping for the potential of her. From that relationship one of the lessons I want to hold with me is to not look for potential, but rather accept the person infront of me. And I think that begins at the start, if I am not content with a person as they are, I should not pursue it. I’m not saying they have to be perfect, and I hope that people grow in relationships, myself included. I just hope that whoever I search for is someone I am happy with as is, without needing change.

S.NI.t. ; Swoobeli 32SmartPLEDTVF7k Smart Tv 7k PLED

***** 55% **** 30% *** 5% ** 10% * 20%

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Benny Weijs 12 12 2023

Werd op de kop geleverd in de doos. Meteen terug gestuurd.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Goed object, werkt alleen niet onder water.

Geverifieerd

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Zat barst in afstandsbediening daarom deze nieuwe tv gekocht, heel tevreden over de verbeelding.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Hendrik de Realistische 27 09 2025

Leek helemaal niet op het plaatje. Veel groter dan gedacht. Miskoop.

Geverifieerde Miskoop

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Mooie televisie jammer van de vele slechte programma's er op. Toen op mijn oude bolle met dikke cont had ik hier geen last van.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Koos Schaamteloos 19 04 2024

Top televisie maar ondanks aankoop en er al twee maanden naar zitten kijken toch na herhaaldelijk verzoek mijn geld niet terug gekregen. Slechte zaak, ik koop hier deze maand nooit weer.

Geverifieerde Aansteller

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Imponerend, Enorm groot

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Mooie handleiding, goed geschreven en mooie eerste druk! Hier kun je belachelijk veel geld voor vragen op handleidingkjes.net.

Geverifieerde Doorverkoop

* Anders Om 16 05 2024

Het beeld zat aan de achterkant, zo zie ik niks. Na vijf maanden nog niet verholpen. Hele slechte verkoper.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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(Voorheen) 04 05 600

Misdadig gedoe VanVoorbijgaandeAard verkoopt televisies die niet bestaan. Ik voel me genaaid

Geverifieerde Misdaad

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Mooie tv werkt alleen niet maar is zo eigenlijk veel beter.

Geverifieerde Aankoop.

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Slecht beeld. Hier op ben ik lang niet zo mooi en goed dan ik echt wel ben.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Don Corleone III 14 04 2025

Klote ding, laat alleen maar slechte dingen over mij zien. Ik zal een signaal moeten afgeven aan de verkopers en de helft van hun personeel en hun kinderen om zeep helpen zodat ze snappen dat dit echt niet kan.

Niet Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Rein Aard Devos 13 08 2025

Beste aankoop ooit. Ik heb helemaal geen last meer van mijn pre-puberende kinderen.

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Cyclops 06 01 -2025

Mooie frisbee voor de dwerghamsters

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Geverifieerde Aandoening.

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Siem Ula Tor 11 09 2025

Sublieme televisie, laat gekozen programma”s zien op het gewenste formaat en je hebt een leeslamp als het op standby staat. 2 in 1. Top, ik raad iedereen deze bescherming aan.

Geverifieerde Aankopen.

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Heel apart hoe verder je er van af staat hoe kleiner het wordt maar hij blijft precies even groot. Gewoon eng.

Geverifieerde Afwijking.

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Moeizame aanschaf, Alexa laat zich niet zien ook al vraag ik het haar keer op keer. Ik voel bittere teleurstelling.

Geverifieerde Aandrang

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Goedele Gelovig 23 09 2025

Mooie tv ook met menu dat niet meer uit beeld wil verdwijnen sinds de derde reparatie in drie maanden na aankoop.

Geverifieerde Aankoop

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Vriendjes Politiek 17 06 2025

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Top beoordeling, goed onderbouwd, nuttig voor andere kopers, veroorzaakt geen totale vervreemding bij hen die per c door ons bedrogen willen worden.

Geverifieerde Aankoop Beoordeling

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In Summary: * A surprise thunderstorm early this morning woke me ~03:00 and its soaking rain cancelled my plans to do some Saturday morning mowing on the front yard. The ground is entirely too wet to try and shove the lawn mower around on it. More rain is predicted for tomorrow but the weatherman is calling for a week of clear skies starting Monday. So as soon as the ground is dry enough, maybe Monday, certainly by Tuesday, I'll be cutting grass, chopping weeds, and hauling branches for several days.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.

Health Metrics: * bw= 234.46 lbs. * bp= 138/82 (65)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups, BP breathing exercises, pilates

Diet: * 05:40 – 1 peanutbutter sandwich * 07:00 – 1 bacon and egg breakfast taco * 09:00 – 1 breaded pork chop, cut green beans * 10:50 – 3 crispy oatmeal cookies * 14:10 – mashed potatoes and beef patties with mushroom gravy, whole kernel corn

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 04:35 – bank accounts activity monitored. * 04:45 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 09:00 – watching old episodes of the Adventures of Superman * 10:45 – listening to Indianapolis sports talk on 1070 The Fan * 12:00 – now following a WNBA Game, Indiana Fever vs Atlanta Dream * 14:26 – and the Dream win, 113 to 96. * 14:30 – have now tuned to 105.3 The Fan, DFW's #1 Sports Station, ahead of this afternoon's MLB Game between my Texas Rangers and the San Diego Padres. * 15:05 – First pitch has been thrown, the Rangers and Padres are playing baseball.

Chess: * 13:32 – moved in all pending CC games

Chapter 1: The Words She May Be Waiting to Hear

There is a kind of quiet that can settle over a daughter even when the house is full of noise. She may be sitting at the kitchen table with homework open, pretending the numbers make sense while her phone lights up beside her. She may be driving alone after work, replaying something her father said years ago that he probably forgot five minutes later. She may be grown now, with children of her own, folding towels after everyone else has gone to bed, still wondering why one small part of her heart feels like it is standing in the doorway of her childhood, waiting. Father’s Day has a way of bringing that doorway back into view, and that is why the Father’s Day message about telling your daughter I believe in you matters more than most people realize. A daughter can look strong and still be hungry for her father’s blessing.

Some fathers do not understand this because they think love is obvious if they provide, protect, work hard, stay around, pay bills, fix what breaks, and show up when there is trouble. Those things matter. A father who stays is not a small thing. A father who works when he is tired is not a small thing. A father who keeps getting up when his body hurts and his mind is crowded is not a small thing. But a daughter does not only need proof that her father is responsible. She needs words that tell her what her place is in his heart. She needs to know he sees more in her than her mistakes, her mood swings, her grades, her attitude, her choices, her fears, or the version of herself she shows the world when she is trying not to fall apart. That is why Christian encouragement for fathers raising daughters with faith and love has to become more than a seasonal thought. It has to come into the living room, the car ride, the hallway conversation, the hospital room, the graduation day, the ordinary Tuesday, and the moment when a daughter least knows how to ask for it.

The sentence is simple. “I believe in you.” It does not sound large enough to carry the weight it can carry. It does not sound like something that can repair anything, strengthen anything, or redirect a family. But there are daughters walking through life with talent they do not trust, beauty they do not believe, wisdom they keep second-guessing, and calling they are afraid to step into because somewhere along the way they did not hear enough steady voices telling them they were capable, seen, and worth fighting for. A father does not have to be perfect to speak life. He does not have to have every answer. He does not have to rewrite the past before he can bless the present. He can begin with one sentence spoken honestly, and that sentence can open a door to faith-based family healing through a father’s words of blessing.

I know some fathers will hear this and feel pressure instead of hope. They will think about the years they did not know what to say. They will think about the times they were too hard, too quiet, too distracted, too angry, too proud, too tired, or too wounded themselves to give their daughter what she needed. A man can love his daughter and still fail to speak tenderly. A man can be willing to die for his family and still not know how to sit across from his daughter and tell her she is not a disappointment. That is part of the hidden sadness in many homes. The father loves deeply, but the daughter hears mostly correction. The father sacrifices silently, but the daughter experiences distance. The father assumes she knows, but she does not know in the way he thinks she knows.

There is a difference between being loved and feeling blessed. A daughter may know her father loves her in the general way a father is supposed to love his child. She may know he would come if she called. She may know he would defend her if someone hurt her. She may know he worked hard and tried. But blessing is more personal than that. Blessing says, “I see you.” Blessing says, “I am not ashamed of you.” Blessing says, “Your future is not limited to what you fear about yourself.” Blessing says, “You are not alone in becoming who God made you to be.” A daughter can live for years around a father who loves her and still wonder whether he delights in her.

That question can shape a life quietly. It can sit behind the way she receives affection. It can influence the kind of attention she accepts. It can affect how quickly she apologizes for needing anything. It can change how she walks into a room, how she hears criticism, how she handles rejection, how she prays, and how she sees God. If her earthly father was distant, harsh, absent, inconsistent, or emotionally unavailable, she may struggle to believe that her heavenly Father is near, kind, patient, and pleased to receive her. That does not mean God is limited by an earthly father. God is greater than every wound. But fathers should not pretend their voice has no spiritual weight. A father’s words can either make it easier for a daughter to imagine love without fear, or they can make her spend years trying to separate God’s heart from a man’s silence.

This is why the sentence matters. “I believe in you” is not flattery. It is not pretending a daughter has no flaws. It is not giving her a trophy for breathing. It is not telling her she can do anything without wisdom, discipline, humility, or obedience to God. Real belief is stronger than empty praise. Real belief looks at a daughter in the middle of becoming and says, “I can see God’s hand on your life even while you are still learning how to live it.” It tells her that her current struggle is not the final definition of who she is. It gives her courage without lying to her. It gives her confidence without making her proud. It gives her correction a place to land because she knows the father correcting her is not against her.

Many daughters only hear correction after something goes wrong. A bad grade. A careless choice. A disrespectful tone. A friend who seems dangerous. A relationship that raises concern. A door slammed too hard. A mistake on social media. A credit card bill that should not have happened. A father steps in because he loves her, but if correction is the main language she hears, she may begin to believe his attention is only activated by her failure. She may feel invisible when she is trying and exposed when she falls. That is a hard way to live inside a family.

A father may think, “I do not praise what should already be expected.” I understand that thought. Many men were raised that way. They were taught to work hard, stop whining, handle business, and not need much affirmation. Some fathers never heard “I believe in you” from their own fathers, so the words feel unnatural in their mouths. They may love their daughters fiercely but feel strange saying anything soft. They may write checks, mow lawns, fix brakes, sit through school events, drive across town, and carry stress no one sees, but when it comes time to speak from the heart, they go quiet.

But daughters cannot live on a father’s unspoken love alone. They can appreciate sacrifice and still need tenderness. They can respect strength and still need warmth. They can admire a hardworking father and still long for words that reach the hidden place. If a father only shows love through duty, his daughter may grow grateful for him but still emotionally hungry around him. The bills were paid, but the blessing was missing. The roof was secure, but the heart still wondered.

I think about a teenage girl standing in front of a mirror before school. She has changed clothes three times. She does not like her face that morning. She is trying to decide whether to wear the hoodie that helps her disappear. Her father walks past the bedroom door, already thinking about work, traffic, money, and the problem waiting for him when he gets there. He sees her for two seconds. In one version of that morning, he says nothing because he is busy. In another version, he says, “You ready? We need to go.” In another version, he notices the sadness around her eyes and says, “Hey, I know today feels heavy. But I believe in you. You are stronger than you think, and God is with you.” The whole day may not become easy. The hallway may still be cruel. The pressure may still be real. But she walks out of the house carrying a sentence instead of only carrying fear.

That is not weakness. That is fatherhood.

A daughter does not need her father to become dramatic. She does not need speeches every morning. She does not need fake emotion or forced spiritual language. She needs honesty. She needs consistency. She needs words that do not only appear when everyone is dressed up for a holiday photo. She needs a father who can look past the awkwardness of saying something meaningful and care more about her heart than his comfort. Sometimes the holiest thing a father can do is walk into an ordinary room and say the sentence he should have said years ago.

It may feel too late. That is one of the lies that keeps fathers silent. Too late because she is grown. Too late because she has moved out. Too late because she is angry. Too late because the relationship is strained. Too late because she rolls her eyes. Too late because he has already failed too many times. Too late because the divorce happened. Too late because the house already broke. Too late because another man already wounded her. Too late because the father does not know where to begin.

But God does not only work in early moments. He works in late moments too. Scripture is full of people meeting mercy after they thought the door had closed. A father cannot go back and become who he should have been ten years ago, but he can become more honest today. He can repent without making excuses. He can bless without demanding a reaction. He can speak without controlling how the words are received. He can choose the humility of a new beginning.

For some daughters, “I believe in you” from their father will land like water on dry ground. For others, it may land awkwardly because trust has been damaged. She may not know what to do with the sentence. She may shrug. She may say, “Okay.” She may make a joke. She may not respond at all. That does not mean the words failed. Some words have to sit in the heart for a while before they are believed. A father should not speak blessing only because he wants an emotional scene. He should speak blessing because it is true, because it is right, because God gave fathers a voice that can strengthen the souls entrusted to them.

There is also a danger in waiting for the perfect moment. Many fathers imagine they will say something meaningful at graduation, at a wedding, before a big move, after a crisis, or when their daughter finally opens up. But daughters need blessing in the small places, not only the ceremonial ones. They need it when they come home quiet and say they are fine. They need it when they are trying something new and pretending they are not scared. They need it when they failed and think everyone sees them differently. They need it when they are succeeding and do not know how to enjoy it because pressure has trained them to fear the next mistake.

A father’s belief should not be reserved for the polished version of his daughter. If he only believes in her when she performs well, she may begin to confuse love with achievement. If he only praises her when she looks happy, she may hide her sadness to keep approval. If he only speaks warmly when she is agreeable, she may think conflict cancels connection. But when a father can say, “I believe in you” in the middle of growth, confusion, struggle, repair, and learning, he gives his daughter something closer to grace.

Grace does not deny truth. Grace does not excuse sin. Grace does not pretend choices do not matter. Grace tells the truth with a door open. Grace says, “This is not the way, but you are not beyond love.” Grace says, “We need to talk about what happened, but I am still for you.” Grace says, “You cannot build your life on this, but I believe God is still working in you.” Fathers need that kind of strength. Not the strength that only raises its voice, but the strength that can stay present when a daughter is hard to understand.

There are daughters who test their fathers because they are trying to find out whether love will remain. They push. They withdraw. They answer with sharpness. They say they do not care. They act like they do not need approval. Sometimes they truly are being disrespectful and need correction. But sometimes beneath the sharp edge is a question: “Are you still here? Do you still see me? Do you still want me close? Are you proud of anything in me, or am I only a problem to manage?” A wise father learns to listen for the question beneath the behavior.

This does not mean a father becomes passive. It does not mean he lets his daughter run the home, dishonor her mother, ignore wisdom, or walk into destruction while he smiles and calls it love. A father should lead. He should protect. He should speak truth. He should set boundaries. But truth without blessing can feel like rejection, and blessing without truth can become weakness. A daughter needs both. She needs a father with enough courage to correct her and enough tenderness to make sure correction does not become the only proof that he is paying attention.

The sentence “I believe in you” becomes powerful because it does something many daughters need desperately. It separates identity from struggle. It tells her she is not the worst thing she has done, not the fear she feels, not the mood she cannot explain, not the grade on the paper, not the relationship that broke her, not the season where she lost herself, not the insecurity she hides under makeup, sarcasm, silence, overachievement, or distance. It tells her there is a deeper truth over her life.

A Christian father has even more reason to speak that way because he is not blessing from shallow optimism. He is not saying, “I believe in you because you are perfect.” He is saying, “I believe God made you with purpose. I believe His grace can hold you. I believe His wisdom can guide you. I believe His strength can meet you. I believe your life is not random. I believe you can get up again.” That kind of belief does not place the daughter at the center as her own savior. It points her back to the Father who knew her before her earthly father ever held her.

That matters because daughters are constantly being told who they are. The world is loud. It names them by appearance, popularity, performance, sexuality, productivity, relationship status, career progress, body shape, mistakes, wounds, and usefulness. Social media gives them mirrors that lie. Comparison gives them measurements that never stop moving. Culture often tells them to be strong but leaves them exhausted, guarded, and unsure whom they can trust. In the middle of all that noise, a father’s steady voice can become a shelter.

Not a cage. Not control. Not ownership. A shelter.

A shelter is a place where a person can breathe long enough to remember who they are. A father’s belief can become that kind of shelter when it is humble, faithful, and consistent. It can give a daughter courage to try without crumbling when she fails. It can help her walk away from people who only value her when she is useful to them. It can help her recognize the difference between love and manipulation. It can help her pray with less fear because her heart has tasted something of fatherly care on earth.

There is a moment many fathers miss because it looks too ordinary to matter. A daughter tells him about something small. A class. A job idea. A song she likes. A problem with a friend. A dream that sounds fragile. A fear that comes out sideways. A father can dismiss it because he is tired, or he can treat that moment like a small window into her heart. He can say, “Tell me more.” He can say, “I can see why that matters to you.” He can say, “I believe you can handle this.” He can say, “I am proud of the way you are thinking.” It may take less than thirty seconds, but some thirty-second moments become part of a daughter’s inner life for decades.

Fathers sometimes underestimate how long their words live. A harsh sentence can echo for years. So can a holy one. A careless insult can become a private wound. A faithful blessing can become a rope a daughter holds when life gets dark. That should sober every father, but it should not paralyze him. The point is not to make fathers afraid to speak. The point is to help fathers speak with life.

There is a father somewhere who needs to stop reading for a moment and think about the daughter God gave him. Not the ideal daughter. Not the easy daughter. Not the little girl she used to be before life became complicated. The real daughter. The one with her own mind, her own struggles, her own sins, her own gifts, her own fears, her own questions, her own pressure, her own future. She may still live under his roof. She may be across the country. She may answer every call. She may barely respond. She may be close. She may be guarded. She may be waiting for him to become the kind of father who can say something true without turning it into a lecture.

And there is a daughter somewhere who needs to know that if her father never said it, God has not forgotten her. This article is for fathers, but it is also for daughters who read the title and feel something tighten inside. Maybe you wanted those words. Maybe you still do. Maybe your father could fix cars, run a business, serve in church, coach a team, provide a house, command a room, or quote Scripture, but he could not look at you and say, “I believe in you.” That missing sentence may have left a mark, but it does not get the final authority over your life. Your heavenly Father is not speechless over you. He is not confused about your worth. He is not waiting for you to become impressive before He cares.

Still, earthly fathers should not use God’s perfect love as an excuse for their own silence. They should let God’s love teach them how to speak. A father who follows Jesus is called to more than being present in the building. He is called to be present in spirit. He is called to speak words that heal, guide, strengthen, and bless. He is called to repent when he has used his voice to wound. He is called to learn tenderness even if tenderness was never modeled for him. He is called to become the kind of man whose daughter does not have to spend her life guessing whether he was ever proud of her.

This can start today. Not with a production. Not with a perfect speech. Not with a long explanation of everything the father meant to say. It can start with a quiet sentence at the sink, in the car, on the phone, in a text, beside a hospital bed, at a restaurant table, after church, before school, before she boards the plane, after she failed, after she succeeded, after an argument has cooled, or during a simple Father’s Day conversation when everyone expects the father to receive honor and he chooses to give blessing.

“I believe in you.”

Say it plainly. Say it without making her earn it first. Say it without attaching a lecture to the end. Say it with enough humility that she does not have to comfort you afterward. Say it because you mean it. Say it because the world is loud and your daughter needs to hear a voice that is for her. Say it because one day your voice will not be as close as it is now, and you do not want her to search her memory and find only instructions, warnings, jokes, silence, or criticism where blessing should have been.

A father may not understand all the ways his daughter carries his words, but he can choose what kind of words he gives her to carry.

Chapter 2: The Silence a Father Thinks Is Safe

A father can sit in his truck in the driveway for ten minutes after work and tell himself he is only catching his breath. The engine is off. The garage light is on. His lunch box is on the passenger seat, and his phone has three messages he has not answered yet. Inside the house, someone needs him. Maybe everybody needs him. His wife may want to talk about the bill that came in higher than expected. His son may need help with something that broke. His daughter may be in her room with the door partly closed, waiting to see which version of him walks in. The tired version. The irritated version. The silent version. The version that says, “What now?” before anyone has even asked for anything.

Many fathers live in that space more often than they admit. They are not trying to be cold. They are trying to survive the pressure of being needed by everyone while having almost nowhere to put their own fear. A man can feel responsible for the roof, the food, the car, the future, the marriage, the tone of the home, the mistakes of the past, and the unknown problems coming tomorrow. He may walk into the house carrying more than his daughter can see. But if he never learns how to turn his love into words, his silence can become a wall she keeps running into.

That is one of the quiet conflicts in fatherhood. A father may think silence is safer than saying the wrong thing. He may think staying calm means staying quiet. He may think affection is implied. He may think his daughter understands him because he has always been there in the ways he knew how to be there. But children do not always translate adult silence accurately. A daughter may not hear, “Dad is tired.” She may hear, “Dad does not want to be bothered.” She may not hear, “Dad is worried about money.” She may hear, “I am a burden.” She may not hear, “Dad does not know how to say what he feels.” She may hear, “There must not be much in me worth noticing.”

This is where a father has to become honest with himself. Not ashamed. Honest. Shame usually makes men hide, defend, blame, or shut down. Honesty gives a man room to change. A father can admit, “I have been quiet because I did not know what to say,” without deciding he is a failure. He can admit, “I corrected more than I encouraged,” without surrendering to despair. He can admit, “My daughter may not know what I meant,” and then choose to make it clearer.

A daughter should not have to become an expert in interpreting her father’s unspoken heart. She should not have to build a whole emotional dictionary out of his work habits, facial expressions, tired sighs, small favors, and rare moments of softness. Those things may be real. They may even be beautiful in their own way. But a daughter still needs words. She needs words because life will give her plenty of voices that accuse her, measure her, pressure her, and confuse her. Her father’s blessing needs to be clearer than a hint.

There is a grown daughter sitting in a parking lot after a job interview. She is twenty-seven, maybe thirty-four, maybe forty-one. The age does not matter as much as the feeling. She told herself she was confident, but now she is replaying every answer she gave. She wonders if she talked too much. She wonders if she sounded foolish. She wonders if she should have worn something different. She opens her phone and sees a message from her father. It does not need to be long. It does not need to solve anything. It says, “I know you were nervous today. I believe in you. No matter what happens, I am proud of you for showing up.” She may stare at it longer than he expects. She may not write back with much. But something in her shoulders may drop because, for once, she does not have to carry the whole moment alone.

That is the kind of fatherly voice many daughters need. Not a voice that takes over. Not a voice that treats her like she is still five. Not a voice that tries to manage every outcome. A voice that stands near her soul and reminds her she is not ridiculous for trying. A voice that gives her courage without making her feel controlled. A voice that says, “You are not alone in this,” while still respecting that she has her own life to live.

Fathers sometimes fear that encouraging a daughter too much will make her weak, proud, careless, or unrealistic. They may think hardship is the better teacher. They may believe too much affirmation softens a person. But real encouragement does not weaken a daughter. It gives her enough inner security to face truth. A daughter who knows her father believes in her can often receive correction better, not worse, because she does not have to translate every hard conversation as rejection. She can hear, “This choice is dangerous,” without thinking, “He thinks I am hopeless.” She can hear, “You need to take responsibility,” without hearing, “You are a disappointment.” A blessed daughter does not become fragile because she is loved. She becomes steadier.

The problem is that some fathers were taught a version of strength that leaves little room for blessing. They were raised by men who did not explain themselves. Men who came home, ate dinner, read the paper, watched the news, handled discipline, and went to bed. Maybe those men loved their families deeply, but love often came through duty more than closeness. A boy raised in that kind of home may grow into a father who knows how to provide but not how to speak. He may know how to warn, but not how to bless. He may know how to fix a fence, but not how to sit on the edge of a bed and say, “You matter to me more than you know.”

This is not about mocking fathers from another generation. Many of them carried burdens we do not fully understand. Many lived through war, poverty, loss, family pressure, hard labor, and emotional training that told them tears were weakness and tenderness was danger. But every generation has to decide what pain it will stop passing down. A father does not honor his past by repeating every silence he inherited. He honors what was good by adding what was missing.

That is where faith becomes practical. Following Jesus does not only mean believing correct things. It means allowing the Spirit of God to reshape how we love the people closest to us. It means a man who was never blessed can become a father who blesses. It means a man who was raised with harshness can learn gentleness. It means a man who hid behind silence can learn to speak words that give life. This is not sentimental. It is discipleship at the dinner table.

When Scripture speaks about the tongue, it does not treat words as small things. Words can build or break. Words can turn a heart toward hope or push it deeper into fear. A father does not need to quote a verse every time he encourages his daughter, but he should understand that his speech belongs to God. His tone belongs to God. His timing belongs to God. The way he says her name belongs to God. The way he speaks when he is disappointed belongs to God. Faith is not separate from the sentence he chooses in the hallway after an argument.

Imagine a daughter coming home after making a mistake. Not a small mistake. One of those mistakes that changes the air in the house. Maybe she lied. Maybe she got involved with someone who was not good for her. Maybe she ignored warnings and now the consequences have arrived. Her father is angry because he is scared. That happens often. Fear wears the mask of anger in many fathers. He wants to protect her, but protection comes out as accusation. He wants her to understand the seriousness of what happened, but his voice gets loud enough that she stops hearing the wisdom and starts bracing for impact.

There is a better way, but it requires strength most men have to learn. He can still tell the truth. He can still name the danger. He can still set a boundary. He can still say, “This cannot continue.” But somewhere in that conversation, if his heart is ruled by love and not just fear, he also has to say, “I still believe God is not finished with you. I believe you can tell the truth. I believe you can choose differently. I believe you are worth the hard work of healing.” That does not erase the consequence. It gives the consequence a purpose.

Without that, discipline can become humiliation. A daughter may comply outwardly while something inside her grows colder. She may learn how to avoid getting caught rather than how to become wise. She may learn that failure makes her unworthy of tenderness. But when a father combines truth with blessing, he teaches her that accountability is not the enemy of love. That lesson can protect her for the rest of her life.

Some fathers need to hear this carefully. Your daughter is not asking you to become soft in the way you fear. She is not asking you to have no backbone. She is not asking you to approve of everything she does. She is not asking you to stop being a father. She needs you to be a father more fully. She needs truth that does not crush. She needs strength that does not intimidate. She needs love that does not disappear behind frustration. She needs a blessing that is not held hostage until she becomes easier to raise.

That last part matters because daughters are not always easy to raise. No child is. They can be confusing, emotional, stubborn, private, impulsive, sensitive, defensive, brilliant, funny, tender, and exhausting all in the same week. A father who expected a simple path may find himself walking through years where he does not know what to say. One day his daughter wants advice. The next day she wants space. One day she talks for an hour. The next day she answers with one word. One day she seems confident. The next day she is crying in a bathroom because of something someone posted online.

A father cannot control every inner storm. He cannot be the Holy Spirit. He cannot become her Savior. But he can become a steady witness. He can be one of the voices God uses to remind her she is not abandoned inside the storm. He can learn to say, “I do not understand everything you are feeling, but I am here. I believe in you. I believe God can help us through this.” Those words may feel small to him, but they may be the first safe place she has felt all day.

There is also a hidden gift in speaking blessing. It changes the father too. A man who blesses his daughter has to slow down enough to see her. He has to pay attention. He has to notice more than problems. He has to look for evidence of courage, kindness, effort, honesty, growth, humor, resilience, repentance, creativity, patience, and faith. When he begins to name what is good, he may discover that he had been living with his eyes trained mostly on what needed fixing.

This is a common trap in family life. The broken thing gets attention. The loud problem gets attention. The unpaid bill gets attention. The bad attitude gets attention. The messy room gets attention. The dangerous friend gets attention. But quiet growth often goes unmentioned. A daughter apologizes faster than she used to, and no one says anything. She studies even though she is discouraged, and no one notices. She helps her mother without being asked, and the moment passes. She tells the truth when lying would have been easier, and the father moves too quickly into the next concern. Over time, she may feel as if only failure has a microphone.

A father can change that pattern. He can become specific. Instead of only saying, “Good job,” he can say, “I saw how you handled that conversation. That took maturity.” Instead of only saying, “I’m proud of you,” he can say, “I am proud of the way you kept going even though you were scared.” Instead of only saying, “You’ll be fine,” he can say, “I believe in the woman God is shaping you to become.” Specific blessing feels different because it proves the father is paying attention.

That does not mean every conversation needs to become intense. Families need normal moments too. Jokes. Meals. Errands. Bad coffee. Shared music. Ordinary talk. A father can bless his daughter in a sentence and then keep washing the dishes. The power is not in making the moment dramatic. The power is in making blessing normal. A daughter should not have to wait for a birthday card to find out what her father sees in her.

And maybe that is where Father’s Day becomes more than a holiday. It is often built around honoring fathers, and that is good. Fathers need encouragement too. Many carry loads nobody claps for. Many are trying harder than their families know. Many are quietly afraid they are failing. But perhaps Father’s Day can also become a day when fathers give something back that cannot be bought, wrapped, or posted online. A father can receive the card, the meal, the phone call, the hug, and then turn toward his daughter and say what should have been said all along.

He can say, “Thank you for loving me. I want you to know something too. I believe in you.”

For a father who has been silent for a long time, the first attempt may feel awkward. Let it be awkward. Holy things are not always smooth the first time. Prayer can feel awkward when a person has not prayed in years. Apology can feel awkward when pride has had the floor for too long. Blessing can feel awkward when a family has learned to survive on hints. But awkward obedience is still obedience. A father does not need perfect delivery. He needs a faithful heart.

The daughter may remember the awkwardness with tenderness later. She may remember that her father tried. She may remember that his voice shook a little. She may remember that he looked away because emotion was hard for him, but he still said it. She may remember that something changed, not all at once, but enough to make hope possible. A father cannot force healing to move at his preferred speed. He can only keep choosing the words that make healing more possible.

The silence a father thinks is safe may not be safe at all. It may be protecting him from discomfort while leaving his daughter unsure. Love has to become brave enough to speak. Not constantly. Not carelessly. Not with pressure. But faithfully, in the real rooms where families live, after long workdays, after arguments, before hard mornings, during uncertain seasons, and in the small openings where a daughter’s heart is close enough to hear.

A father’s voice will not be the only voice in his daughter’s life. But it should be one of the truest.

Chapter 3: When Belief Has to Stay After the Moment

A father can stand behind a chain-link fence on a cold evening and watch his daughter miss the ball three times. The other parents clap anyway, because that is what parents do when they are trying to be kind, but she knows what happened. She walks back toward the bench with her helmet low and her jaw tight, fighting the tears because she does not want anyone to see. Her father feels it in his own chest. He wants to fix the moment for her. He wants to explain her swing, tell her to keep her eye on the ball, remind her not to drop her shoulder, and maybe there is a time for that. But not right then. Right then, she does not need a coach first. She needs a father.

That is where many fathers get the sentence wrong without meaning to. They say, “I believe in you,” but then they rush to turn belief into advice. They speak blessing, and then they bury it under instruction. They begin with encouragement, but within a few seconds the daughter feels herself being evaluated again. A father may think he is helping because he sees the mechanics, the pattern, the weakness, the thing that needs improvement. But a daughter may hear, “Even your father cannot let you be disappointed for one minute without turning you into a project.”

There is a place for guidance. A good father does not stand by forever and call passivity love. He teaches. He corrects. He trains. He warns. He shows up. But when a daughter is already carrying shame, the first gift is often not a lesson. It is presence. It is the father who can walk beside her to the car without making her relive the whole failure. It is the father who can hand her a bottle of water and say, “That was a hard one. I still believe in you.” Not because the missed ball did not matter at all, but because it did not get to name her.

That is one of the deepest things a father can teach his daughter. Failure is real, but it is not a name. Disappointment is real, but it is not a destiny. A bad moment is real, but it is not the whole story. If a father only believes in his daughter when she performs well, then he is not really giving her belief. He is giving her approval with conditions. She will feel the difference, even if she cannot explain it.

There are daughters who grow up becoming excellent because they are afraid not to be. They get the grades. They win the awards. They help around the house. They do not cause much trouble. They smile in pictures. They learn how to read the room, keep peace, and stay impressive enough to avoid criticism. People call them strong. Teachers praise them. Relatives brag about them. But inside, some of them are tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep. They do not know if they are loved, or if they are simply performing well enough to keep everyone comfortable.

A father may not see that danger at first because achievement looks healthy from the outside. It is easy to be proud of a daughter who succeeds. It is easy to say, “That is my girl,” when everyone else is clapping too. But the blessing that changes a daughter’s life cannot only appear on stage, in the award ceremony, after the promotion, at the wedding, or beside the diploma. A daughter needs to know her father believes in her when nobody is clapping. She needs to know he can see her worth when the scoreboard is ugly, the application is denied, the relationship ends, the business fails, the test comes back lower than expected, or the plan falls apart.

That kind of belief has to stay after the moment. It cannot be a Father’s Day sentence said once because the topic sounded meaningful. It has to become part of the way a father lives near his daughter. She needs to hear it in different seasons and in different forms. She needs to experience it when she is easy to celebrate and when she is hard to understand. She needs a father whose confidence in her does not vanish when life gets messy.

This matters because daughters often learn what to expect from love by watching what happens after they are not at their best. Anyone can enjoy a child when she is laughing, achieving, cooperating, and making the family look good. But what happens after she cries too hard, fails publicly, speaks sharply, becomes anxious, changes direction, asks uncomfortable questions, or admits she is not okay? Does the father move closer with truth and steadiness, or does he withdraw until she becomes easier again?

A daughter remembers that. She may not remember every word, but she remembers the temperature of love in the room. She remembers whether her father became safe or dangerous when she was weak. She remembers whether he looked embarrassed by her pain. She remembers whether he helped her carry it or made her feel foolish for having it. She remembers whether he turned every confession into a lecture. She remembers whether she could come home broken and still belong.

There is a young woman sitting at a small desk in a college dorm room, staring at an email that says she did not get into the program she wanted. The room smells like reheated noodles. Her laundry is piled on the chair. Her roommate is out, so she lets herself cry, but only quietly, because even alone she feels embarrassed. She calls her father and tries to sound normal, but he hears the break in her voice. In that moment, he can do what fear tells fathers to do. He can start solving. He can ask what her backup plan is. He can talk about deadlines, money, next steps, and whether she should have prepared differently. Those things may need to be discussed later. But first, he can say, “I am sorry. I know you wanted that. I believe in you, and this closed door does not get to decide your whole life.”

That sentence does not make the rejection painless. It does not magically produce a new plan. It does not remove the work still ahead. But it keeps the closed door from becoming a verdict. It reminds her that her father sees more than the email. It gives her a place to stand while she catches her breath.

That is what faithful fatherhood often looks like. Not dramatic rescue. Not control. Not a grand speech with music in the background. Just a father refusing to let one hard moment swallow his daughter’s sense of who she is. He stands there with her, even if he is miles away on the phone. He lets his belief become a handrail.

A father also has to learn that believing in his daughter does not mean believing in every decision she makes. This is important. Some people confuse affirmation with agreement. They think the only way to make a daughter feel loved is to approve of whatever she wants. That is not fatherhood. A father can believe in his daughter and still disagree with her direction. He can honor her dignity and still challenge her choices. He can speak gently and still speak truth. In fact, if he truly believes in her, he will not flatter her while she walks toward harm.

But the order matters. If she knows her father is for her, truth has a better chance of being heard. If she believes he is mainly disappointed, truth may sound like more proof that she is unwanted. Many fathers lose influence not because they lack wisdom, but because their daughters do not feel cherished enough to trust the wisdom. The father may be right about the danger, but his daughter cannot hear the warning through the old fear that she is never enough.

A father who wants to be heard later must build trust now. He cannot wait until the crisis and expect his voice to carry weight if his daily presence has been mostly criticism, absence, sarcasm, or impatience. Authority in a family is real, but influence grows through love. A daughter may obey authority for a season because she has to. She receives influence when she trusts the heart behind the voice.

Jesus understood this better than anyone. He told the truth without cruelty. He corrected without needing to crush. He saw people completely, and still He moved toward them with mercy. When He called people out of sin, He was not trying to shame them into hiding. He was calling them into life. A Christian father has to keep learning that pattern. The goal is not to win every argument in the house. The goal is to help his daughter recognize the sound of truth spoken by love.

That means tone matters. Timing matters. Facial expression matters. A father can say a technically correct sentence in a way that leaves a daughter feeling small. He can say, “I believe in you,” with impatience, and it will not feel like belief. He can say, “I am proud of you,” while staring at his phone, and the words may feel thin. He can say, “You can talk to me,” but if every hard conversation becomes a courtroom, she will eventually stop bringing him the truth.

This is not about making fathers walk on eggshells. It is about asking fathers to become aware of the power they carry. A daughter’s heart is not a machine that only needs correct information. She is a person. She hears tone. She feels distance. She notices when her father is half-present. She notices when his words and his posture do not match. She notices when he wants the conversation to end more than he wants to understand her.

There is a father at a restaurant with his adult daughter. The table has two glasses of water, a basket of bread, and a silence that has been building for years. She is telling him about something in her life he does not fully understand. Maybe a career change. Maybe a struggle in her marriage. Maybe a season of doubt. Maybe the fact that she has been carrying sadness longer than anyone knew. He feels the old reflex rise in him. Explain. Correct. Compare. Minimize. Tell her what he would do. But this time he does something harder. He listens. He asks one honest question. He lets the silence breathe. Then he says, “I hate that you have been carrying that alone. I believe in you, and I want to understand better.”

That may be the first time she feels her father’s strength as shelter instead of pressure.

Belief becomes powerful when it learns patience. A daughter may not become confident overnight because her father said one good sentence. She may have years of fear, insecurity, or distance inside her. She may have learned to distrust kindness. She may have learned that praise is usually followed by criticism. She may wonder if the new tenderness is real or temporary. A father who wants healing must be willing to repeat love without demanding quick proof that it worked.

That is not easy. Men often like visible progress. They like problems they can solve with tools, money, decisions, or effort. Emotional repair does not always move that way. A father may apologize and receive silence. He may encourage and get a shrug. He may reach out and be met with caution. He may speak blessing and feel foolish because nothing changes on the surface. But seeds do not announce themselves the day they go into the ground. They disappear first.

A father has to trust God with the hidden work. His job is not to force his daughter to respond correctly. His job is to become faithful with what God has placed in his hands. His voice. His humility. His repentance. His presence. His willingness to bless without controlling the outcome. Those are not small things.

The same is true for daughters who are waiting for words that may never come from the father they wanted. That is one of the painful realities of life in a broken world. Some fathers will not say it. Some are gone. Some are too proud. Some are too wounded. Some are too trapped in old patterns. Some daughters have tried to open the door and found it closed again and again. If that is your story, I will not hand you a shallow answer. Missing a father’s blessing hurts. It can leave questions that do not go away just because you are grown.

But the absence of that sentence from an earthly father does not mean heaven is silent. God can father the places that people failed to bless. He can speak through Scripture, through prayer, through wise people, through quiet conviction, through the slow rebuilding of your own courage, and through the steady reminder that you were not created by accident. The Lord can place truth where rejection left confusion. He can teach you to live from His voice, even when your father’s voice was missing, harsh, or unclear.

That does not erase the human need. It redeems it. God does not mock the daughter who wanted her father to believe in her. He understands that longing. He made family to matter. He made blessing to matter. He made words to matter. But He also refuses to let the failure of one person become the final word over His child.

So fathers, say the sentence. But after you say it, stay. Stay in the patient work of becoming trustworthy. Stay after the awkward conversation. Stay after the apology. Stay after she does not know how to receive it. Stay after the hard truth. Stay after the missed ball, the denied application, the failed plan, the tense dinner, the anxious phone call, the season where she is not easy to reach. Let your belief become more than a sentence. Let it become a pattern she can recognize.

And daughters, when true blessing comes, try to let it reach you. That may sound simple, but sometimes receiving love is harder than wanting it. If you have lived guarded for a long time, encouragement can feel suspicious. You may want it and resist it at the same time. You may hear “I believe in you” and immediately remember every time the opposite seemed true. Healing can feel strange when pain has been familiar. But when love is honest, when repentance is real, when blessing is spoken without manipulation, let yourself consider that God may be giving you a gift through imperfect words from an imperfect father.

A father does not have to become perfect to become a blessing. A daughter does not have to become fearless to receive one. Somewhere between the father who is learning to speak and the daughter who is learning to believe she is loved, God can build something holy in a family that once survived on silence.

Chapter 4: The Courage to Bless Without Defending Yourself

A father can stand in the hallway outside his daughter’s room with his hand raised to knock and suddenly feel like a much younger man. The house is quiet, but his mind is loud. He remembers the argument from earlier. He remembers her face when he raised his voice. He remembers the sentence he wishes he had not said. Maybe it was not the worst thing a father has ever said, but it was sharp enough to leave a mark. Now the light under her door is still on, and he knows she is awake. He wants to make it right, but another part of him wants to walk away and pretend tomorrow will soften everything by itself.

That moment may look small from the outside. It is not small. A father standing outside a closed door with pride in one hand and love in the other is standing in one of the most important places in family life. He can choose the old pattern. He can wait until everyone acts normal again. He can tell himself she was disrespectful too. He can build a case in his mind for why his anger made sense. He can decide that apologizing will make him look weak. Or he can knock.

Many families are not broken by one terrible event. They are worn down by unrepaired moments. A harsh word that never gets named. A slammed door that never gets revisited. A father’s silence after conflict. A daughter’s tears that everyone pretends not to see. A tense dinner where people pass plates and avoid eye contact. Then another day comes, and life keeps moving. Work starts again. School starts again. Laundry keeps piling up. Bills keep arriving. The family survives, but something tender gets pushed farther underground.

A daughter can learn to move on without healing. She can learn to act fine because acting fine is easier than hoping her father will come back and make it right. She can become polite, helpful, successful, even affectionate in certain moments, while still carrying the memory that her father rarely returned after hurting her. That memory can teach her a dangerous lesson. It can teach her that love does not repair. It can teach her that people who hurt you get to decide when the conversation is over. It can teach her that peace means silence, not truth.

A father who wants to bless his daughter has to learn the courage of repair. He has to learn how to come back without defending himself first. That is difficult because many fathers feel accused before their daughter even says a word. They already carry guilt from years they cannot redo. They already wonder if they have failed. So when a daughter says, “You hurt me,” the father may hear, “You are a terrible man.” He may react to the accusation he feels instead of the pain she is actually trying to express.

This is where a father has to slow down. His daughter’s hurt is not always an attack on his entire life. Sometimes it is an invitation into honesty. She may not say it gently. She may not say it perfectly. She may have her own pride, her own sharpness, her own unfair way of framing the moment. But beneath the imperfect words there may be a daughter asking, “Can you care that this hurt me without making me prove it in court?”

That question matters. A father can win the argument and lose the room. He can prove his point and miss his daughter’s heart. He can explain the pressure he was under, the long day he had, the disrespect he felt, the reason he snapped, and every sentence may contain some truth. But if he explains before he listens, his daughter may feel like her pain has been cross-examined instead of received.

The sentence “I believe in you” carries more weight when it comes from a father who can also say, “I was wrong.” Those two things belong together more often than fathers realize. Blessing without humility can feel hollow. A daughter may hear encouragement from a father who never apologizes and wonder if the words are just another way to move past what needs to be faced. But when a father can say, “I should not have spoken to you that way,” and then say, “I still believe in you, and I want to be better at loving you,” the blessing has a place to land.

There is a man sitting at the end of a kitchen table late at night with a glass of water in front of him. His daughter is grown now. She came over for dinner, and the evening was almost good until an old subject came up. College money. A past boyfriend. The divorce. The years he missed too many events because of work. Something opened that both of them usually avoid. He felt cornered, so he started explaining. She shut down. Now she has gone home, and he is staring at his phone, deciding whether to send the text.

The old version of him would wait. The old version would think, “She knows I love her.” The old version would decide that bringing it up again would only make things worse. But maybe the Spirit of God is pressing gently on his conscience, not to shame him, but to lead him. So he types slowly. “I have been thinking about tonight. I got defensive. I am sorry. I do believe in you, and I am proud of the woman you are becoming. I want to listen better.”

That text may not fix twenty years. But it may become the first honest board laid across a broken bridge.

A father should not underestimate the power of a clean apology. Not a dramatic apology that makes the daughter responsible for comforting him. Not an apology with a hidden excuse attached. Not, “I am sorry, but you know how you get.” Not, “I am sorry if you felt hurt.” Not, “I guess I am just the bad guy.” Those are not repairs. Those are ways of protecting pride while pretending to be humble. A clean apology is simple. “I was wrong.” “I hurt you.” “I should have handled that differently.” “I am sorry.” “I want to do better.”

Then comes the blessing, not as a distraction from the apology, but as a truthful word spoken from a softer heart. “I believe in you.” “I am glad I am your father.” “I see your courage.” “I know I have not always said it well, but I am proud of you.” These words become stronger when they are not used to avoid responsibility. They become part of repair.

Some fathers fear that apologizing will weaken their authority. It does the opposite when it is sincere. A father who cannot admit wrong teaches his daughter to distrust power. A father who can repent teaches her that strength and humility can live in the same man. He shows her that authority under God is not a license to be untouchable. He shows her that love cares more about truth than image. That lesson may shape the way she sees marriage, leadership, church, friendship, and even prayer.

Think about what a daughter learns from a father who never apologizes. She learns that the bigger person does not have to repair. She learns that the louder voice gets the final word. She learns that hurt must be swallowed if the person who caused it does not want to talk. She may carry that into relationships where she keeps accepting blame that is not hers. Or she may become hard and decide never to need anyone’s apology again. Neither path is freedom.

Now think about what she learns when her father comes back with humility. She learns that love can return to the scene of pain and tell the truth. She learns that conflict does not have to mean abandonment. She learns that a person can be wrong and still be loved. She learns that repentance is not humiliation. She learns something about the gospel without anyone turning the moment into a sermon.

That may be one of the most beautiful parts of this. A father can preach grace with his life in a way his daughter can feel. Not by being flawless. Not by having a Bible verse ready for every situation. Not by forcing spiritual language into every conversation. He preaches grace when he refuses to let pride have the final word in his home. He preaches grace when he asks forgiveness. He preaches grace when he blesses the daughter he also has to correct. He preaches grace when he admits, “I am still learning how to love you well.”

There is a daughter sitting beside her father in a hospital waiting room. The roles have begun to shift. He is older now. Maybe his hands shake a little when he reaches for the paper cup of coffee. Maybe he has become quieter, not because he is cold, but because age has humbled him. She has taken time off work to bring him to appointments. She fills out forms, keeps track of medications, asks the nurse questions, and tries not to show how scared she is. He looks over and sees the tiredness on her face. For years, he may have thought of her as the child who needed him. Now she is carrying part of him.

That moment is a holy opportunity. He could complain about the wait. He could talk about the pain. He could retreat into embarrassment because needing help is hard for a father who spent his life being needed. Or he could bless her. He could say, “I know this is a lot. I see what you are doing for me. I believe in you, and I am grateful for the woman you are.” Those words may reach a place in her that has been tired for a long time. Caregiving can make a daughter feel invisible. A father’s blessing can remind her that love is seen.

The sentence changes shape as life changes. When a daughter is little, “I believe in you” may help her climb back on the bike. When she is a teenager, it may help her face a school hallway that feels cruel. When she is young and uncertain, it may steady her through decisions about work, friendship, marriage, faith, and calling. When she is grown and carrying responsibilities of her own, it may remind her that she is more than what everyone needs from her. When her father is old, the same sentence may become a gift passed with trembling hands from one season to another.

A father should speak it while he can. That is not meant to frighten anyone. It is simply true. No one gets unlimited ordinary days. The car rides end. The bedtime prayers end. The school events end. The long seasons under one roof end. Phone calls become more important. Visits become less frequent. Health changes. Time moves. A father may assume there will always be another chance to say what matters, but wisdom does not live on assumptions. Wisdom speaks while the person can still hear.

This is especially important for fathers who are not naturally emotional. You do not have to become someone else. You do not have to talk like another man, write like a poet, or force tears that are not there. Your daughter does not need performance. She needs truth from you. If your voice is plain, speak plainly. If your sentences are short, speak short honest sentences. If you have to write it because saying it face-to-face feels too hard at first, write it. But do not hide behind the idea that because tenderness feels unnatural, silence is acceptable.

Growth often feels unnatural before it becomes faithful. The first prayer after years away from God may feel clumsy. The first honest apology after a lifetime of defensiveness may feel like walking uphill with weak legs. The first blessing spoken out loud may feel exposed. That does not mean it is false. It may mean the father is stepping into a part of love he avoided for too long.

A father also needs to bless without turning the moment back toward himself. This can be subtle. He may say, “I believe in you,” and then quickly add, “I know I was a terrible father,” hoping she will tell him he was not. He may begin blessing her but then drift into his own regret so heavily that she becomes the comforter. That is not fair to the daughter. There may be a time for the father to share his regret, but blessing should not become a request for emotional rescue. Give the words freely. Let them be about her.

That takes maturity. It means a father can feel sorrow over his failures without making his daughter carry that sorrow for him. It means he can repent without demanding immediate closeness. It means he can say, “I know I missed things I should not have missed. I am sorry. I believe in you. I am proud of you,” and then let her receive that however she is able. Humility does not control the response. It tells the truth and leaves room.

There are fathers reading this who may have complicated relationships with their daughters. Maybe there has been addiction in the family. Maybe divorce changed everything. Maybe years of anger built a wall. Maybe the daughter has made choices that scare him. Maybe the father has made choices that wounded her. Maybe conversations become tense quickly. Maybe there are grandchildren now, and the pain has started touching another generation. In situations like that, one sentence may not be enough by itself, but it can still be a beginning.

Do not use “I believe in you” as a shortcut around the hard work. Use it as one faithful part of the hard work. If trust has been broken, become trustworthy. If you have been absent, become consistent. If you have been harsh, become gentle without becoming passive. If you have been controlling, learn to honor her adulthood. If you have been afraid to speak, start speaking with humility. If you do not know how to repair, ask God for wisdom and seek help from someone wise enough to tell you the truth.

A daughter can usually tell the difference between a sentence used as a tool and a sentence spoken as a blessing. If a father says, “I believe in you,” only to get her to stop being upset, she will feel the manipulation. If he says it to make himself feel like he did his part, it will feel thin. If he says it because he truly sees her and wants life for her, even awkwardly, even imperfectly, the words can carry warmth.

The heart behind the sentence matters. A father is not casting magic words into the air. He is offering a truthful blessing from a heart that is trying to love more like Christ. The power is not in the phrase alone. The power is in the love, humility, faith, and presence that stand behind it. The sentence matters because the father matters. His voice matters. His repentance matters. His attention matters. His willingness to become softer without becoming weaker matters.

A father may never know the full effect. That is another act of faith. He may say the words and see no visible change. He may apologize and receive a cautious nod. He may send a text and get a short reply. He may bless his daughter at a time when she is too guarded to show what it means. But years later, in a moment he never sees, she may remember. She may be standing in a bathroom before a difficult meeting, sitting in a car after bad news, holding her own child through tears, praying on a morning when she feels small, or deciding not to quit something God has called her to do. His sentence may rise in her memory like a small lamp.

“I believe in you.”

A father cannot control when the lamp is needed. He can only make sure he has placed it there.

Chapter 5: What Her Heart Learns About the Father

A daughter can be thirty-eight years old and still become a little girl for three seconds when her father says her name kindly. She may be standing at her own kitchen counter now, cutting strawberries for children who are already asking for something else. The sink may be full. The dog may be barking. Her calendar may be too crowded, and her phone may be buzzing with a message from work she does not want to answer. Then her father calls. Maybe his voice is older than it used to be. Maybe he is slower to get to the point. Maybe he asks about the weather first because some men still need to walk around the emotional room before they enter it. But before the call ends, he says, “I just wanted you to know I believe in you.” And suddenly the kitchen is not only a kitchen. It becomes a place where a grown woman receives something she may have needed since she was twelve.

That is why this sentence matters beyond one holiday. Father’s Day can remind a man to say it, but the sentence itself belongs to a much longer story. A daughter is always learning something about fatherhood. She learns from what her father does. She learns from what he refuses to do. She learns from the way he handles stress, anger, affection, prayer, money, disappointment, women, weakness, and responsibility. She learns from the way he speaks to her mother. She learns from the way he treats strangers when there is nothing to gain. She learns from the way he speaks about God when life does not go his way. And whether he realizes it or not, she may also be learning what to expect when she brings her heart near a father.

That is a serious thing, but it is also a hopeful thing. It means a father’s life can become a doorway, not because he is perfect, but because he is willing to be shaped by grace. When he blesses his daughter with honesty, he gives her more than confidence. He gives her a living picture, however imperfect, of what it feels like to be seen and not discarded. He helps her understand that fatherly love is not supposed to be cold, distant, impossible to please, or available only after performance. He helps her imagine closeness without fear.

Some fathers may feel the weight of that and think they are already too late. But the gospel keeps telling us that God can begin holy things in unlikely places. He can begin them after silence. He can begin them after failure. He can begin them after years of emotional distance. He can begin them in a text message, a short phone call, a quiet apology, a ride to the airport, a conversation on the porch, a card that finally says more than “Love, Dad.” God can use small obedience when it comes from a humbled heart.

There is a father standing in the card aisle the day before Father’s Day, though he is not looking for a card for himself. He is holding one for his daughter. The store is too bright. The music is soft and forgettable. People move around him with balloons, gift bags, and last-minute errands. He reads a few cards and puts them back because they sound nothing like him. Too flowery. Too silly. Too polished. He almost gives up. Then he finds a blank card and realizes maybe blank is better. He can write the sentence himself. He can write, “I know I do not always say things the way I should. I want you to know I believe in you. I am thankful God made me your father.” It will not be perfect, but it will be his.

That may be enough to start something.

A daughter does not need every word to be elegant. She needs it to be true. There is a kind of healing that begins when a father stops outsourcing his heart to printed cards, jokes, money, favors, or silence. Those things can have their place, but they cannot fully replace his voice. A gift card may be useful. A repaired sink may be kind. A paid bill may be generous. A ride to the mechanic may be loving. But there are moments when only spoken or written blessing can touch the part of a daughter that still wonders, “Does my father see me?”

That question is not childish. It is human. People are formed by being seen. Children especially are shaped by the eyes of those who raise them. A daughter who feels seen by her father does not become immune to pain, but she receives a kind of inner witness that can strengthen her. She can walk into hard rooms with the memory that someone important believed she belonged in the world. She can face criticism without being completely owned by it. She can fail without assuming she has become a failure. She can choose wisely because she is not starving for attention from anyone willing to offer it.

This is one reason a father’s blessing can protect a daughter in ways he may never see. It can help her recognize cheap substitutes for love. When she has heard steady, honorable belief from her father, manipulation may sound less convincing. When she knows what it feels like to be respected, she may be less likely to confuse being wanted with being cherished. When she has been blessed without being controlled, she may recognize the difference between care and possession. A father cannot prevent every wound, and no sentence can shield a daughter from every danger, but blessing gives her a stronger place to stand.

The world will still test her. It will test her at sixteen when she feels left out and wonders if becoming someone else would make her more accepted. It will test her at twenty-two when she is trying to build a life and everyone seems ahead. It will test her at thirty when the future does not look the way she imagined. It will test her at forty-five when she has carried so much for so long that she forgets she is allowed to need encouragement too. In those seasons, a father’s voice may become one of the memories God uses to steady her.

But even the best father is not enough by himself. That is important to say. A father’s blessing is powerful, but it is not ultimate. No earthly father can carry the full weight of a daughter’s identity. If he tries, he will fail. If she expects him to be the source of her worth, she will eventually be disappointed. The best thing a Christian father can do is not make himself the center of his daughter’s confidence. It is to bless her in a way that points beyond him.

“I believe in you” becomes most beautiful when it quietly means, “I believe God is at work in you.” It means, “I see gifts in you, but I know they came from Him.” It means, “I see strength in you, but I know His strength is greater.” It means, “I love being your father, but I am not your Savior.” A wise father does not use blessing to make his daughter dependent on his approval. He uses blessing to help her recognize the goodness of the Father who will never leave her.

That is the spiritual center of this whole thing. A daughter needs her father’s blessing, but even more deeply, she needs to know the heart of God. She needs to know that the Lord is not irritated by her existence. She needs to know that God does not only come near when she performs well. She needs to know that He is not waiting with folded arms for her to prove she deserves kindness. She needs to know that correction from God comes from love, not disgust. She needs to know that His truth is not against her healing. She needs to know that His grace is not fragile.

A father can help or hinder that understanding. He cannot control it completely, but he can influence it. If he is harsh and calls it godliness, he may make holiness look cruel. If he is distant and calls it strength, he may make fatherhood look cold. If he is controlling and calls it protection, he may make authority look unsafe. But if he is humble, steady, truthful, gentle, repentant, and present, he may help his daughter believe that strength and love can live together. He may help her see a small reflection of the Father Jesus revealed.

That reflection does not require perfection. It requires surrender. A father has to surrender the right to hide behind how he was raised. He has to surrender the excuse that he is just not good with words. He has to surrender the pride that says apology lowers him. He has to surrender the fear that tenderness will make him less of a man. He has to surrender the habit of noticing only what is wrong. He has to surrender his need to be understood before he is willing to understand.

This is not easy work. It is holy work, which often means it happens in ordinary places while nobody applauds. It happens when a father turns down the television because his daughter is trying to tell him something. It happens when he leaves the phone in his pocket during lunch. It happens when he asks about her life without turning the answer into a lesson. It happens when he pauses before speaking in anger. It happens when he chooses a softer tone even though the old tone would have come faster. It happens when he prays for her by name and then treats her like the prayer mattered.

A father may pray, “Lord, protect my daughter,” and then become one of the safe places God uses. He may pray, “Lord, guide her,” and then speak wisdom with patience instead of panic. He may pray, “Lord, help her know Your love,” and then show love in a way that makes the word Father less frightening and more beautiful. Prayer does not excuse a father from action. Prayer should lead him into faithful action.

There is another daughter now, sitting in a church pew on Father’s Day. She came alone. Maybe her father is gone. Maybe he is alive but distant. Maybe their relationship is complicated enough that every sermon about fathers makes her want to disappear. Around her, people are smiling, taking pictures, posting tributes, handing out gifts. She is trying to be happy for them, but something in her feels tired. She hears the word father and does not know whether to feel gratitude, grief, anger, or longing.

If that is you, please hear this gently. You are not wrong for feeling the weight of what was missing. Faith does not require you to pretend your father’s silence did not matter. Forgiveness does not require you to call neglect good. Honoring your father does not mean denying the truth. God is not asking you to fake a happy story. He is inviting you to bring the real one to Him.

And He is not embarrassed by your need. The Fatherhood of God is not a slogan meant to cover over human pain. It is a holy reality meant to meet you inside it. If your father never said, “I believe in you,” God can still teach your heart how to stand. If your father wounded you with words, God can speak better words over you. If your father was absent, God can become near in ways you did not know were possible. If your father loved you but did not know how to say it, God can help you receive what was good and grieve what was missing.

That healing may take time. It may involve prayer, honest conversations, wise counsel, boundaries, forgiveness, tears, and the slow work of learning to live from truth instead of old wounds. But you are not disqualified from peace because your family story is complicated. You are not less loved by God because an earthly father did not know how to love you well. You are not too old to be blessed by your heavenly Father. You are not too damaged to become whole.

And fathers, this is part of why your words matter so much. You are not merely improving your daughter’s mood. You are participating in something sacred. You are helping shape the atmosphere in which her heart learns what love feels like. You are speaking into the place where fear tries to build a home. You are giving her a sentence she can carry into rooms where you cannot go with her.

Do not wait until you feel like a perfect father. That day will not come. Speak while you are still learning. Bless while you are still growing. Apologize when you fall short. Get back up when you slip into old patterns. Ask God to make your voice a tool of life instead of a weapon of fear. Ask Him to help your daughter hear what is true, even through your imperfect delivery.

Maybe today the sentence needs to be spoken across a kitchen table. Maybe it needs to be written in a card. Maybe it needs to be sent in a text that does not demand a reply. Maybe it needs to be said over the phone to a daughter who has not heard tenderness from you in years. Maybe it needs to be whispered beside a hospital bed. Maybe it needs to be spoken after an apology. Maybe it needs to be repeated to a young girl who acts confident but is secretly afraid she is not enough.

“I believe in you.”

Say it with your life too. Believe enough to listen. Believe enough to guide. Believe enough to correct without crushing. Believe enough to bless when she succeeds and when she fails. Believe enough to stay humble. Believe enough to keep showing up. Believe enough to point her beyond your own limited strength to the God who gave her breath, purpose, dignity, and a future.

One day, your daughter may stand in a season you cannot fix. She may face grief, rejection, pressure, uncertainty, temptation, loneliness, or fear. You may not be able to get there in time. You may not know the right advice. You may not be able to change the outcome. But if you have planted blessing faithfully, your voice may still meet her there. It may rise quietly in her memory, not as noise, but as a steady reminder that she is not what the fear says she is.

A father cannot give his daughter a painless life. He cannot make every road smooth, every person kind, every door open, or every prayer answered the way she hoped. But he can give her something real. He can give her words that strengthen rather than scar. He can give her humility that repairs rather than hides. He can give her love that points toward God rather than toward control. He can give her a blessing that says, “You are seen. You are loved. You are not alone. God is not finished with you.”

And when a father gives that blessing with a sincere heart, he may find that his family is not only changed by what his daughter receives. He may be changed by what love teaches him to give.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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written by amelia rodriguez / a.k.a amy

published june 20, 2026

---

I greeted the barista with a warm smile that hid desperation. It was in the afternoon of a brisk autumn day, I was home alone, and I was repeating a routine that I did every week, while I lived in the city of Columbus, Ohio.

I had rode the downtown-bound 102 bus with an optimistic mind that yearned for connection. I lived in Columbus for just over one year, and in that time, I had made no friends. My routine was as cyclical as it gets: wake up at 7:00, take the bus to work, try to not collapse from stress and anxiety and boredom, and then take the bus home, leaving barely three hours – sometimes four if I was lucky – of free time at home, before I had to go to sleep. It was no small miracle that I was able to hold myself together for most of these days. This is the ruthlessness, the reality, of the capitalistic society we live in. I wanted to fight that. I wanted to beat that. In even the smallest way. I wanted people, and I wanted connection. I wanted friendship. What was I alone, if not a crumbling pile of tears that formed together to resemble the shape of a person?

I ordered my usual – a Dante's Paradise. Espresso, with a shot of Frangelico, and I began my routine inside the cafe. Peoplewatching, and the eavesdropping that often accompanies it, is my lifeline when I have little else to draw life from. When I am anxious, lonelier than ever, and overtaken by the incapability of reaching out and begging and crying for help, the next best thing I can do is to observe the friendship of others happening right in front of me.

When I picked up my drink, I walked to the other room of the cafe. Bookshelves lined the walls, and upon the small stage was a group of musicians setting up the speakers for their show later that night. I had left a book on one of the shelves from a previous visit, and went to grab it.

The other room of this cafe was a precious space to me. I came to realize that this room is where other queer people my age would congregate. Students from the nearby Ohio State University, coming together to study, talk, gossip, organize, laugh, hug, and cry.

I sat down on my usual spot, in front of the windows that graced my back with the sun's late afternoon glow. The glow greeted my back with the usual, as did the sip of ill-advised alcohol that entered my mouth at the table. I shyly cracked open my book, without any intention of giving the words of the pages real focus. Then, in the corner of my eye, my focus, if there was any, became transfixed on something, someone, else.

A girl my age, trans flag pins proudly placed on her OSU laptop bag, set her things on the table to my left. She put a pair of cat-ear headphones over her head, and sat down, pulling open a Canvas tab on her laptop which was tilted juuuuuuuust enough so that I could glance its detail from the corner of my eye as I did my best to pretend to read a book.

My mind raced. I was desperate. I was alone. I wanted friends. I wanted to meet the people in the community I resided in for over a year without having taken a part in it at all, a transplant in every sense of the word. I wanted to talk to this girl. I wanted to say hello. I wanted to have a fun conversation with her. I wanted to compliment her bag. I wanted to compliment the video game stickers she had on her laptop. I wanted to compliment the confidence of the smile that graced her face without fail even as she did something as mundane as read the passages of the story she was studying for school.

i wanted to say hi.

And then someone walked up to her and said hi. From the main room of the cafe, someone approached the girl's table. The girl took off her headphones and greeted her friend with a wide smile, and waving her right hand comically fast. The girl got up and hugged her friend, then sat back down as the friend remained standing. The friend was just stopping by but figured the girl would be here, so they wanted to say hello. The two of them excitedly talked for a moment about meeting back up at the Ohio Union later. The friend walked away, and the girl went back to reading on her laptop, but without putting her headphones back on.

My mind raced. She had left her headphones off. Her persistent smile didn't waver after her friend left. The seat opposite to her was empty. She begun to focus less on her schoolwork and glance at her phone every few minutes. I knew that there was no better time to meekly say hello to the most approachable and friendly person in my vicinity. I knew that there was no better opportunity to immediately make it clear that I wasn't being weird I swear to god I wasn't being weird I swear to fucking god that I was only taking note of every little thing I noticed about you in that moment because I wanted to be able to talk to you and have a conversation and maybe make the first new friend I had ever made in-person since high school and I know you noticed me staring at you I know I caught your eye looking back at mine for approximately one ten septillionths of a second but i saw it nonetheless and i probably wasn't actually being very subtle about it but you didn't seem to mind so i just kept doing it and then i knew all i had to do was say hi and say that i'm new in town and wanted to get to know people.

So, naturally – logically, even – I got up,

put my book back on the shelf,

turned around,

and rushed to the bathroom

where i sobbed quietly.

then

i cleaned myself up

and rode the bus back home.

Log Entry #1

Date: 20 JUN 2026

UK to ban social media for under 16s

I want my kids to know that I, as well as their mother, and others our age, were some of the last to have it good. My childhood, outside of the home, was incredible. Tree climbing, football, wood chip fights, riding bikes, making dens… The list is endless. It was all so real and pure.

The internet tech kicked in for us when playing in parks became that of the children younger than us. When our climbing frames and dens were invaded by the upcoming generations on the block. We was prepared, however. Already equipped with our parents old mobile phones. Having to go to the local shop once or twice a month to “top up credit” so you could send an SMS or take a call. We was introduced to a growing technology alongside the adults but we had something they didn’t – curiosity.

We delved into new technology like a fish thrown in water. Curious enough to experiment. Dazzled enough to learn. Young enough to master. The internet and all of its offerings were there for the taking and whilst our adults latched onto their old ways, we of the young generation saw endless potential and a new way of life.

The reason I reflect on my early years is because with the explosion of the internet and internet culture, the real world got lost along the way. The internet was a url link to a quick escape from reality. A game. A video. A chat with a friend. But as the saying goes, with great power comes great responsibility, and the internet is one of hell of a power.

Surfing the internet was a little activity you did once or twice a week in your spare time. Then it was on your laptop. Then your phone. And then suddenly the entire world opened up right in front of you. Suddenly you was a simple url link away from hearing Russians converse, or the French and Spanish or even just your local area. Sites like Facebook became the go-to place to find friends and family and even strangers. And like all social interactions, when you first walk in a room, you introduce yourself and disclose personal information one step at a time – we, knowing no better, flooded these sites with personal information.

Fast forward a few years and sites began to violate our privacy. Are we to blame, also? Perhaps. But what did we know at that time? Data is now the new unofficial currency. Algorithms feed us an echo chamber. People obsessing over viewership and followers. The entire technology has become a cesspool of propaganda slop and has weaponized people against each other. Gone are the days of innocent surfing and social interaction. Now are the days of a harsh reality inside an already harsh reality.

So here we are, the UK government has decided to ban social media for under 16s. Like with all government policies nowadays, it presents itself as for the people but under a different lens it is wrapped in questionable motives. With a ban for certain people comes verification for others, and verification to simply explore the internet is bordering close to a Big Brother state.

I want my kids to know that this ban comes at a time when I worry about young people online. Cancerous Discord groups (764) are on the rise, blackmailing young people into evil, satanic acts. CSAM is infecting almost all social platforms. Biased propaganda floods every public newsfeed. Algorithms will randomly insert a death/gore video from time to time. The internet has simply become the wild west. Even more wild than it was in the early days. So on that front, I am happy that young people now face challenges to access these platforms. A level of happy you can only truly appreciate until you have kids of your own.

However, as I said, verification is now going to be enforced. And the issue with most is not that our government can track us – they do a pretty good job at that already – but instead that our personal data will be stored in (most likely) third party servers. To put it simply, the UK will be one or two data breaches away from personal info/fraud Armageddon.

Data breaches are in full swing right now. Mine and my partners email are in constant attack by IP addresses all over the world. I, personally, have been blackmailed following a breach of a cloud storage account I held. Unfortunately, we live in a world now where all our data is stored online and if stolen, is used against us. All whilst corporations and governments simply shrug their shoulders and mass email an apology newsletter.

So, what do I conclude about the current state of the web? Tread carefully and expect the unexpected. The online world is the new world, and you don’t want to be caught with your pants down – literally. I expect, going forward, people will begin to segregate more online. Private group chats via Telegram or Signal. VPNs and TOR will be used more. I actually think we might be ok but, who knows, right?

The eskératz (entrance hall) — a Louis XV canapé (1920s copy). A Furch acoustic guitar and a Directoire-style demi-lune table, both furniture pieces from provincial workshops in southwest France, all acting together as a hinge. Two oil paintings — one of local hens, the other of the back garden — illustrate what actually matters and complete the décor.

The oil lamp, from the 1890's is both functional and necessary. Power outages are frequent.

This room is the main working space of a late 16th‑century town house, opening directly onto the street. As the most public-facing area of the building, it served as an important point of contact between the household and the wider community. With its long-standing association with the church, the room was historically accessible to local people and played a semi-public role within the life of the town. The presence of the canapé continues this tradition, helping to create an atmosphere in which visitors feel comfortable and welcome.

[test post using snap.as]

Watching someone on YouTube unbox a gadget like they’re defusing a bomb. Every layer examined. Every tab pulled – with ceremony. The device itself is the least interesting part.

Tax season 2026 arrived with a peculiar new ritual. Across kitchen tables and home offices, millions of filers uploaded W-2s, 1099s, and brokerage statements not to a human accountant, but to an algorithmic system promising speed, savings, and superior accuracy. The pitch was irresistible: why pay thousands for a professional when an AI agent can ingest your financial life, cross-reference the tax code, and spit out an optimised return in minutes?

One early adopter, Mike Todasco, documented the experiment on his Substack in vivid detail. He pointed OpenAI's Codex at a folder of tax documents, fed it a master prompt, and waited. Three hours and roughly twenty dollars later, the system had processed his return, a task that would have cost him around ten thousand dollars with his usual accountant. The post went viral. The implication was unmistakable: the AI tax revolution had arrived, and it was cheap.

But here is the question nobody racing to upload their documents seems to be asking. When the algorithm gets it wrong, and the evidence suggests it will, who exactly picks up the bill?

The Allure of the Algorithmic Accountant

The shift from tax software to tax agents is one of the defining themes of the 2026 filing season. Having AI “do” your taxes now means deploying large language models and agentic AI systems that pull data from financial institutions, read blurry 1099-K photographs using optical character recognition, categorise thousands of Venmo transactions, reconcile brokerage statements, and surface recent changes in tax law. Intuit, the company behind TurboTax, has gone all in on what it calls “done-for-you” experiences. Its AI engine, Intuit Assist, uses both traditional and generative AI to provide personalised recommendations, flag potential errors in real time, and even deploy a specialised agent, the “1099 Cost Agent,” that can ingest supplemental PDF forms and reason through stock sales to identify the correct cost basis.

Intuit announced in early 2026 that it had paired advanced agentic AI with a nationwide network of 13,000 human experts, creating what it describes as the only all-in-one consumer platform for year-round personal finance management. Credit Karma's Tax Assistant, another Intuit product, claims that members with simple tax situations who answer quick questions throughout the year can have up to 80 per cent of their Tax Year 2025 returns ready to go by filing time. TurboTax Live Assisted is marketed as “the only tax filing solution on the market that provides customers an expert final review at no added cost, ensuring 100 percent accuracy and maximum refund guaranteed.” That guarantee, notably, applies to the human-reviewed product, not to the AI outputs alone.

The competition is just as aggressive. H&R Block launched AI Tax Assist, a product designed to streamline preparation for individuals, the self-employed, and small-business owners. Newer entrants like Hive Tax AI can pull in years of past financial data, automatically organise transactions, and help identify missed deductions. TaxGPT markets itself as an AI tax assistant for individuals, promising to simplify the filing process through conversational interfaces. The message from every corner of the industry is the same: the machines are ready.

Yet the machines, it turns out, are not nearly as ready as the marketing suggests.

When the Maths Does Not Add Up

In early 2025, The New York Times conducted a test that should give every aspiring AI tax filer pause. Reporters ran eight fictional tax scenarios, developed in partnership with tax-filing service TaxSlayer, through four leading AI chatbots: Google's Gemini, OpenAI's ChatGPT, Anthropic's Claude, and xAI's Grok. The chatbots were provided with all necessary forms. The result was sobering. On average, the tools miscalculated the refund or amount owed to the IRS by more than two thousand dollars.

The Times attributed the failures to a fundamental design limitation: AI chatbots do not truly understand the complex relationships among the pieces of information they process, and errors accumulate as tasks become more interconnected. Benedict Evans, a prominent technology analyst, told the newspaper that “the problem with taxes is all those very small little details matter, and it's not going to get every single little detail right.” He acknowledged that the models improve dramatically every six months, but added that they still only give “roughly the right answer,” which is not sufficient for taxes.

The nature of these failures matters as much as their frequency. Large language models are probabilistic systems. They generate outputs based on statistical patterns in their training data, not by executing deterministic calculations. This means that the same input can produce different outputs on different runs, a characteristic that is fundamentally incompatible with the precision required in tax preparation. As multiple experts have noted, the results are “unexplainable” in the formal sense: you cannot go back and audit the reasoning chain the way you can with traditional tax software, where every calculation is traceable to a specific rule in the code.

Independent benchmarking has confirmed the scale of the problem. TaxCalcBench, a rigorous evaluation framework created by Column Tax and published on arXiv in July 2025, tested frontier models on their ability to calculate personal income tax returns. The benchmark uses 51 test cases representing a range of personal tax situations, and a return is considered “correct” only if every evaluated field matches the expected value exactly, reflecting the IRS's own standard. The results were stark. Gemini 2.5 Pro, the best-performing standalone model, achieved just 32.4 per cent strict accuracy. Claude Opus 4 managed 27.5 per cent. GPT-5 reached 41.7 per cent. Common failure modes included consistent misuse of tax tables, errors in tax calculation, and incorrect eligibility determinations.

Even Filed, a company using a multi-agent architecture with validation layers, only achieved 72.5 per cent strict accuracy on complete federal returns, though it reached 94 per cent on a line-by-line basis. Patrick McKenzie, the well-known fintech commentator, has cited 2026 to 2028 as the AI industry's consensus window for when large language models might genuinely be able to “do taxes.” Column Tax itself concluded that the task is likely not automated by the end of 2026, and that achieving it will require strong tax domain expertise and proprietary datasets that go well beyond what general-purpose language models currently possess.

NerdWallet published its own analysis in March 2026, testing ChatGPT, Gemini, and Perplexity on seven tax questions. The team combed through more than 50,000 words of chat transcripts and found that while the chatbots performed well on black-and-white questions, they produced inconsistent answers when the same question was asked multiple times and made assumptions about users that could lead to personalised errors. Sam Taube, NerdWallet's lead writer for investing and taxes, noted that “a couple of years ago, even the cutting-edge AI models couldn't reliably do basic arithmetic,” and that while recent updates have improved their maths skills, “the tendency to cite nonexistent, 'hallucinated' cases in response to legal questions still comes up in 2026.” His summary was blunt: “Taxes involve both of those subjects, math and law. It's not a reliable source of truth yet.”

There is an uncomfortable irony here. Intuit's own vice president of product management has publicly acknowledged that generative AI “doesn't do well with math yet,” which is why TurboTax does not use AI for its actual calculations. Making sure tax code outcomes are accurate, the executive said, is “always job number 1A,” adding: “We don't feel that generative AI is at a point yet where it can do that.” The company that sells the most popular tax software in the world is telling you, in effect, that AI cannot do the thing that millions of people are increasingly using AI to do.

The Accountability Void

If the accuracy picture is complicated, the liability picture is worse. When you sign your tax return, you attest under penalty of perjury that the information is accurate to the best of your knowledge. The IRS holds you accountable for your return's accuracy regardless of what tools or methods you used in preparation. There is no special category for AI-assisted errors. No safe harbour protects you from liability based on reliance on algorithmic outputs. If the AI is wrong, the IRS treats that error as your mistake.

This creates a structural asymmetry that ought to trouble anyone who has uploaded a PDF to a chatbot and clicked “file.” The companies building these tools bear minimal liability for the advice they generate. No contract exists between you and the AI in any meaningful sense. No professional liability insurance covers AI errors. No licensing board can sanction an algorithm for providing incorrect advice. The terms of service for virtually every consumer AI product disclaim responsibility for the accuracy of outputs, often in language buried deep in documents that almost nobody reads.

The contrast with traditional tax preparation is instructive. When you hire a human accountant or a CPA, that professional is bound by licensing requirements, ethical codes, and professional liability standards. If they make an error, there are established mechanisms for recourse: malpractice claims, professional disciplinary proceedings, and often errors-and-omissions insurance that can cover the financial damage. None of these mechanisms exist for AI tax tools. The technology occupies a regulatory gap between “software tool,” which carries product liability, and “professional service,” which carries professional liability. It is treated as neither, and thus escapes both frameworks.

Laura Carrubba, an accounting instructor at George Mason University, has warned bluntly that filers should “never, ever upload any kind of sensitive personal information into a public forum like that.” The privacy risks alone are substantial, but the liability exposure is arguably worse. As one tax professional put it to reporters: “The alibi can't be that ChatGPT told me to do it; that's kind of equivalent to the dog ate my homework.”

For tax professionals who use AI tools in their practice, the picture is somewhat different but no less fraught. Practitioners remain professionally liable for supervising AI-generated advice, ensuring its accuracy in the context of intricate tax laws and client-specific circumstances, and validating recommendations before presenting them to clients. AI developers may bear some responsibility for tool reliability, but current service agreements shift most liability to users. As one widely cited legal analysis put it, “the blame game is perhaps the same as it ever was; the responsibility for competent advice lies with the tax professionals who employ these and other tools.”

Canadian tax professionals have already reported a troubling pattern. A survey found that businesses are losing money after relying on AI tools for financial and tax advice, with tax professionals spotting mistakes on a regular basis. The problem, they warn, is not hypothetical. It is materialising now.

A Landmark Ruling and Its Ripple Effects

The legal landscape shifted significantly in February 2026, when Judge Jed Rakoff of the Southern District of New York issued what appears to be the first ruling to squarely address privilege claims involving generative AI. In United States v. Heppner, the defendant, a corporate executive charged with securities fraud, wire fraud, and making false statements to auditors in connection with an alleged scheme to defraud investors of approximately 150 million dollars, had used a consumer version of Anthropic's Claude to research legal issues related to the government's investigation.

Without his lawyers' direction, Heppner inputted information he had learned from his attorneys into the AI platform, generating roughly thirty-one documents that outlined defence strategy and potential arguments. Federal agents seized these documents during the search of his residence after his arrest in November 2025.

Judge Rakoff ruled that the AI-generated documents were not protected by either attorney-client privilege or the work product doctrine. His reasoning was direct. Claude “is not an attorney,” and the platform's privacy policy specified that it collects data on user inputs and outputs, uses that data to train the tool, and reserves the right to disclose such data to third parties, including governmental regulatory authorities. There was no confidentiality. There was no legal advice. There was no privilege.

The decision, described by the court as addressing “a question of first impression nationwide,” sent shockwaves through the legal and financial services communities. The New York State Bar Association published an analysis under the headline “Loose AI Prompts Sink Ships,” underscoring the severity of the implications. The Harvard Law Review noted that the conclusion was not as inevitable as Judge Rakoff's opinion might suggest, arguing that a more fact-intensive analysis would indicate that self-directed AI use should be privileged in at least some circumstances. But the practical implications are already reverberating through corporate tax departments, law firms, and compliance teams. The ruling raises pressing questions for any organisation incorporating AI into its workflows: if an employee feeds sensitive client data into a consumer AI tool to generate tax analysis, is that analysis discoverable? The answer, after Heppner, appears to be yes.

Judge Rakoff left open one important possibility. He suggested that the analysis might differ if AI use had been directed by counsel under a Kovel-type arrangement, where the AI could “arguably be said to have functioned in a manner akin to a highly trained professional who may act as a lawyer's agent within the protection of the attorney-client privilege.” This distinction between supervised and unsupervised AI use may prove to be one of the most consequential legal questions of the coming years.

The Regulatory Vacuum

The IRS itself has taken notice of AI's incursion into tax preparation, though its response so far has been more cautionary than prescriptive. For the first time in history, the agency addressed AI on its annual Dirty Dozen list of tax scams for 2026, warning about AI-enabled IRS impersonation via phone calls, AI-generated phishing content, and voice cloning. Nina Tross, liaison for tax advocacy at the National Society of Tax Professionals, told reporters that “AI is definitely the number one culprit” for perpetrating tax scams. Bad actors, she explained, use AI to gather information from taxpayers and corporations, then file “highly detailed” fraudulent tax forms that result in improper payments.

The IRS has also explicitly cautioned against relying on AI for tax guidance, reminding taxpayers that they “should not rely on AI-generated responses to complex tax questions” and should verify any calculations or information provided by artificial intelligence. But the agency has stopped well short of issuing comprehensive standards for AI use in tax preparation.

This regulatory gap is drawing increasing criticism. Bloomberg Law has reported on growing calls for federal leadership, noting that accounting software companies are promoting AI-powered tools to taxpayers while sidestepping responsibility for errors and passing liability to clients. A letter sent to Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent urged comprehensive federal guidance on AI use in tax preparation, warning that without it, a patchwork of conflicting state rules would undermine business compliance and CPA professionalism. The comparison to the employee retention credit scheme, which earned its place on the IRS's own Dirty Dozen list, is apt: unregulated AI in tax preparation threatens to become the next entry.

Meanwhile, the IRS itself is quietly embracing the technology internally. The agency now operates 129 AI use cases, up from 54 in 2024, with AI powering audit selection, fraud detection, and taxpayer services. Yet the IRS has provided minimal public information about how its algorithms work, and taxpayers selected for audit are not told whether it was humans or AI that flagged their return. The asymmetry is striking: the government uses AI to scrutinise your return, but disclaims responsibility when you use AI to prepare it.

Across the Atlantic, the European Union's AI Act offers a more structured approach. The legislation, which entered into force on 1 August 2024, classifies AI systems by risk level and imposes corresponding obligations. Many AI use cases common in financial services, including credit scoring, fraud detection, and automated decision-making that affects access to services, are explicitly classified as high-risk, subject to strict requirements around risk management, human oversight, transparency, and auditability. For tax advisory firms specifically, the AI Act requires that operators ensure employees possess adequate AI literacy, that chatbots be clearly recognisable as AI systems, and that client data not be entered into open generative AI models without anonymisation. The European Banking Authority published a factsheet in November 2025 on the AI Act's implications for the banking and payments sector, and in November 2025 the European Parliament adopted a resolution laying out its priorities for AI use in financial services.

The full obligations for high-risk systems were initially set to take effect on 2 August 2026, though the European Commission proposed in November 2025 to extend that deadline to December 2027. FINRA in the United States expects compliance frameworks to be operational by the fourth quarter of 2026, with examinations beginning in early 2027.

A peer-reviewed study published in Nature's Humanities and Social Sciences Communications in 2025 examined how AI-driven systems impact legal fairness, due process, and the integrity of tax procedures. The researchers identified risks including algorithmic bias, opacity, and weakened procedural safeguards, and proposed an independent AI oversight mechanism to explain and review tax decisions. The study's central argument is that without such mechanisms, the use of AI in tax administration risks undermining the very principles of fairness and transparency that tax systems are built upon.

The Profession Fights Back, and Adapts

The accounting profession's response to the AI incursion has been a mixture of anxiety and strategic repositioning. A recent survey found that over half of financial services professionals, some 52 per cent, believe their job prospects have worsened in the past year due to AI, while 57 per cent avoid raising concerns with managers due to job insecurity. The World Economic Forum's Future of Jobs 2025 report listed accountants, auditors, and bookkeepers among “the world's fastest-declining jobs,” predicting 92 million global job displacements by 2030, with AI cited as a primary driver. Studies from OpenAI and the International Labour Organisation have also identified accountants and tax preparers as occupations “highly exposed to disruption.”

Yet the profession simultaneously faces a severe talent crisis. More than 300,000 accountants have left the profession since 2020, and three-quarters of CPAs are approaching retirement age. Recruitment agency Robert Half observed growing demand for accountants in 2025, with 58 per cent of employers planning to increase their permanent finance and accounting headcount, a six-percentage-point rise from 2024. The Bureau of Labor Statistics projects 5 per cent growth in accounting through 2034, with 124,200 annual openings. Surveys show that 46 per cent of firms intend to hire more full-time staff and 45 per cent plan to hire more seasonal staff, even as more than a third anticipate automating processes using AI.

The resolution to this apparent paradox lies in the profession's deliberate pivot from routine compliance work toward advisory services. Routine bookkeeping faces an estimated 85 per cent automation risk, but advisory roles face under 25 per cent. Tax professionals are shifting from two-hundred-dollar return preparation to planning engagements worth five to twenty-five thousand dollars, handling multi-entity structures, international tax planning, audit representation, and strategic advice that demands human judgement and client trust.

The American Institute of CPAs launched its Profession Ready Initiative on 2 February 2026, a research-backed effort to identify and develop the skills early-career CPAs need in an AI-driven marketplace. Susan Coffey, CEO of public accounting for the AICPA, described the initiative as addressing “one of the accounting profession's most pressing needs.” The research, led by SkillEdge, a firm specialising in professional practice analysis, will examine the roles early-career CPAs perform, how job expectations align against education curricula, and where professionals need additional development support. The organisation is developing a framework around the “T-shaped professional,” combining deep expertise with broad capabilities in analytics, digital fluency, and strategic thinking.

New roles are already emerging. Firms are hiring AI compliance officers to ensure ethical and audit-ready AI use, exceptions managers to handle discrepancies that AI cannot resolve, and AI audit reviewers to oversee investigations as auditing moves from sampling to full-visibility analysis. Notably, one of the Big Four accounting firms has already announced plans for an end-to-end AI audit process in 2026. CPA Practice Advisor published a pointed essay in February 2026 warning that if the profession lets software do all the thinking, firms risk becoming “interchangeable,” because if every CPA provides the same computer-generated answers, clients will simply pick the cheapest option.

The industry's emerging consensus is captured in a phrase that has become something of a mantra: “AI handles the 'what.' A great accountant tells you 'so what' and 'now what.'”

The Trust Deficit

Consumer sentiment tells a more complicated story than the breathless headlines about AI tax filing might suggest. A YouGov study released in January 2026 found that just 19 per cent of Americans trust AI in financial services, and only 10 per cent trust AI to make financial decisions automatically. Yet the 2026 IPX1031 Tax Procrastinators Report found that 46 per cent of Americans say they trust AI for tax advice, while 21 per cent said they would use AI to help them actually prepare their returns this year.

The gap between these figures hints at something important. People may tell pollsters they trust AI for tax advice, but far fewer are willing to hand over full decision-making authority. This is the uncanny valley of financial automation: close enough to useful to be tempting, far enough from reliable to be dangerous. The distinction between using AI as an assistant and using it as a replacement is one that the marketing rarely makes clear, but it is the distinction upon which financial safety depends.

Early IRS data for the 2026 filing season shows more than 36.5 million refunds totalling roughly 136.6 billion dollars issued as of early March, with the average refund running approximately 10.6 per cent higher than at the same point in 2025. Part of this increase may reflect the complexity of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, the sweeping federal tax package passed in July 2025 that reshaped parts of the US tax code with new credits and deductions. This is precisely the kind of legislative complexity that trips up AI systems. This year's return is not simply last year's return with minor adjustments; it is a substantially different document, and the models trained on prior-year data may not have fully absorbed the changes.

Asking Harder Questions

The convenience narrative around AI tax filing is seductive, and not entirely wrong. For a straightforward W-2 return with no complications, an AI assistant may well produce an adequate result, particularly when integrated into established tax software that uses deterministic calculation engines for the actual maths. The problems begin at the margins, and in taxation, the margins are where the money is.

Consider the filer with cryptocurrency holdings across multiple exchanges, or the freelancer juggling 1099 income from several states, or the small business owner navigating the new provisions of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act. These are precisely the scenarios where AI chatbots have been shown to fail most spectacularly, and they are also the scenarios where the financial consequences of an error are most severe. An incorrectly claimed deduction does not just cost you the deduction itself; it can trigger an audit, generate penalties and interest, and in extreme cases, result in criminal liability for making false statements on a federal return.

The deeper issue is not whether AI will eventually get good enough at taxes. It almost certainly will. The issue is what happens in the interim, while millions of filers are being encouraged to trust systems that independent benchmarks show cannot correctly calculate even a third of federal returns. The consumer protection framework for this transition period is essentially nonexistent. There is no required disclosure when an AI system generates tax advice. There is no mandatory accuracy threshold. There is no insurance requirement. There is no regulatory body specifically overseeing AI tax preparation tools.

What would a responsible accountability framework look like? At minimum, it would require transparency about when AI is generating tax advice versus when a deterministic engine is performing calculations. It would mandate accuracy benchmarks, perhaps modelled on TaxCalcBench, that AI tax tools must meet before being marketed to consumers. It would require some form of liability insurance or indemnification, so that taxpayers who rely on AI advice in good faith are not left entirely on their own when the algorithm gets it wrong. And it would establish clear regulatory oversight, whether through the IRS, the Federal Trade Commission, or a new body entirely, to ensure that the gap between marketing claims and actual capability does not continue to widen.

This is the accountability gap that demands urgent attention. The technology is advancing faster than the legal and regulatory frameworks designed to govern it. Companies are marketing AI tax tools with confidence-inspiring language while their own engineers acknowledge the technology is not ready for the task. Taxpayers are absorbing all the risk while the companies building these tools absorb none of it.

The question is not whether we should celebrate the convenience. Convenience is fine. The question is whether we are willing to build the accountability structures that make that convenience safe, before the next filing season, and the one after that, and the one after that, turn millions of taxpayers into unwitting participants in the largest unregulated experiment in financial automation the world has ever seen.

The IRS will not accept “the AI did it” as an excuse. Perhaps it is time we stopped accepting it from the companies selling these tools, too.

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References and Sources

1. Todasco, M. “Yes, I Did My $10,000 Taxes With a $20 AI.” Substack, 2026.
2. The New York Times. AI chatbot tax accuracy test using eight fictional tax scenarios with ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude, and Grok, 2025.
3. Intuit Inc. “Intuit's AI-Driven Expert Platform Redefines Tax Filing with 'Done-For-You' Experiences.” Intuit Investor Relations, 2026.
4. Intuit Inc. “Intuit's All-in-One Agentic AI-Driven Consumer Platform Powers Year-Round Money Outcomes.” Intuit Investor Relations, 2026.
5. Column Tax. “TaxCalcBench: Evaluating Frontier Models on the Tax Calculation Task.” arXiv, July 2025.
6. Filed. “Measuring AI Tax Accuracy: Comparing Filed to ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini on an Open Benchmark.” Filed.com, 2025.
7. NerdWallet. “Analysis: What AI Gets Right (and Very Wrong) About Taxes.” NerdWallet.com, 3 March 2026.
8. Morgan Lewis. “Using AI in Tax Workflows? What Heppner Means for Tax Departments.” MorganLewis.com, March 2026.
9. Harvard Law Review. “United States v. Heppner.” Harvard Law Review Blog, March 2026.
10. New York State Bar Association. “Loose AI Prompts Sink Ships: How Heppner Shook the Legal Community.” NYSBA.org, 2026.
11. Internal Revenue Service. “Dirty Dozen Tax Scams for 2026.” IRS.gov, March 2026.
12. Bloomberg Law. “IRS Standards on AI and Tax Preparation Would Protect Businesses.” Bloomberg Law, 2026.
13. Nature Humanities and Social Sciences Communications. “Balancing Innovation and Integrity: AI in Tax Administration and Taxpayer Rights.” Nature.com, 2025.
14. European Commission. “AI Act: Shaping Europe's Digital Future.” Digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu, 2024-2026.
15. Cross Border Advisory Solutions. “EU AI Regulation in Tax Law: New Obligations for Tax Advisory Firms.” CrossBorderAdvisorySolutions.com, 2026.
16. Accounting Today. “Accounting and Tax Staff Worry AI Threatens Jobs.” AccountingToday.com, 2025.
17. World Economic Forum. “Future of Jobs 2025 Report.” WEForum.org, 2025.
18. AICPA. “AICPA Launches Profession Ready Initiative to Transform CPA Workforce Readiness.” AICPA-CIMA.com, 2 February 2026.
19. CPA Practice Advisor. “The Decline of Human Intelligence in Tax Strategy: Is AI Replacing Smart Accountants?” CPAPracticeAdvisor.com, 16 February 2026.
20. YouGov. AI in Financial Services Trust Survey. January 2026.
21. IPX1031. “2026 Tax Procrastinators Report.” IPX1031.com, 2026.
22. Robert Half. Accounting and Finance Hiring Survey. 2025.
23. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Occupational Outlook Handbook: Accountants and Auditors. BLS.gov.
24. Capitol Technology University. “Audited by an Algorithm: How the IRS Is Using AI in 2026.” Captechu.edu, 2026.
25. OpenAI and International Labour Organisation. AI Occupational Exposure Studies. 2024-2025.

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Tim Green UK-based Systems Theorist & Independent Technology Writer

Tim explores the intersections of artificial intelligence, decentralised cognition, and posthuman ethics. His work, published at smarterarticles.co.uk, challenges dominant narratives of technological progress while proposing interdisciplinary frameworks for collective intelligence and digital stewardship.

His writing has been featured on Ground News and shared by independent researchers across both academic and technological communities.

ORCID: 0009-0002-0156-9795 Email: tim@smarterarticles.co.uk

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My first game comes from the WNBA, and has my Indiana Fever playing the Atlanta Dream. Start time for this game is scheduled for Noon CDT. Go Fever!

The second game for me to follow is a MLB game with my Texas Rangers playing the San Diego Padres. Opening pitch for this game is scheduled for 3:05 PM CDT. Go Rangers!

And the adventure continues.

I re-download the app to my phone. I open up Facebook. There's a default feed in front of me. I don't understand it.

There's a post from UNICEF Ireland. The white text on black background reads “This week, a 12-year-old girl in a tent in Gaza was shot...” and I'll spare you the rest of the quote.

I scroll down a post. There's a humorous post from some entity I am not familiar with. The Scottish Sun. It's a picture of a handsome young man surrounded by attractive young women. The caption in the picture reads “Boston braces for Tartan Army baby boom as smitten locals enjoy kilted flings”. An accompanying quote reads “It takes a real man to rock a kilt.” I giggle.

I scroll down. There are posts from entities that I do deliberately follow. Most of them are posts about posts from other entities. ...Which is literally what I'm doing right now. For what it's worth, I'm using my own words. I navigate over to some of their pages. A lot of it is screengrabs of posts with snarky commentary or “right on” commentary. There's little to no original content.

I click on “feeds”, I click on “friends”, and there's a feed in front of me of posts from friends, and the posts are in some order I don't understand. No context is given to me that helps me understand why I'm looking at what I am looking at, in the order that I'm looking at it. It isn't chronological. Some posts are higher up. Some are further down. Some are left out altogether.

Was some of it worth seeing or engaging with? Sure. Am I any more informed about what some of my friends are up to or thinking about? Also, sure. But why do I feel like such a sucker every time I log on there?

Deep down I know why. I ignore it.

In my subconscious somewhere, I recall the stat that only 8% of Facebook interactions are between friends these days. Sounds about right. I'd say about 8% of my time and interactions there are with friends myself. How did that happen? I got trained into disconnecting from my friends by a “social” network.

The bell rings. I salivate. I remind myself that everyone is susceptible to this stuff and it is not a good use of anyone's time. Facebook may not be the only offender these days, but you can quickly trace a direct line between everybody else's behavior and Facebook's.

I snap out of it after about fifteen minutes. Thankfully, before I can even get to “reels” this time.

I navigate over to the “memories” or “on this day” feed and see if there are any tasteless old posts that need deleting. I log out. I remove my login information from my device. I get back to living life.

Repeat tomorrow. Hopefully minus the fifteen soul sucking minutes.

-Ira

Our Father Who art in Heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!