I was born in 1970.
Growing up, I was raised by a man I proudly call father. He showed me he loved me. He taught me many of life's lessons. He hugged me. He disciplined me with words. He set clear examples for me of how to become a man, a good man, a family man. He instilled in me values and gained my trust. This man, for me, is the most incredible, amazing man that I know. He is truly my best friend. My father's name is Andre.
Contrast my dad with some other guy claiming to be my father. He entered my life when I was around 7. He basically introduced himself to me with a manifesto seemingly written by someone with issues beyond my grasp of understanding. He wrote about how he loved me, how I was special to him. He offered to be there for me in my times of need yet never once showed his face to me, even down to this very day. He has never congratulated me on my bithdays, wedding, graduation or the birth of my son five months ago. To this day, I have never heard his voice. Only pages and pages of rules, what he says is right or wrong, all the while writing things advocating violence and intolerance.
To top it off, he says that I must thank him for everything good in my life but he always blames someone else for the bad. How can I call this other person a friend, much less a father?
His guidebook, the Bible, is as hollow as he is.
I have but one Father. His name is Andre.