Aug 18 2007
A Father’s Place
Last week on a plane from Chicago to San Francisco I sat next to a very friendly man. Friendly and talkative. As we engaged in conversation he mentioned children. I asked how many children he had, and he replied, eight. Said he’d like to have more.
I almost asked where he went to church (very few non-Christians have that many children) when he asked if I was married. I said that I’d been married for twelve years.
Him? He’d not yet found the right woman.
Eight children with multiple partners. The man acted like he wanted to be a good father. He “texts†his older daughters every Saturday. He sends uplifting, encouraging messages. He doesn’t want them to grow up dependent upon a man.
I found that ironic. A father who has many children and yet to actually make a marriage work with any woman—nor in fact even to give it a try. Nobody could depend upon him, and so maybe that’s a responsible act on his part—to encourage his daughters not to depend on a man since as they can see he’s not very dependable.
I spent the balance of the flight resting but I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind: he’s fathered children but is not a father to his children. Because a father’s place is in his home, ministering to his children. This man’s example of staying involved in the life of his children may stand out as “good†among others who “father†children they’ll never be involved with, but it falls so far short of where he should be—his children need not just to be fathered—but they need a Father.
The post I made earlier this week about war shows this point. Fathers don’t belong out fighting wars, at least not in the long term. A father’s place is at home, working in a community, discipling his children.
I mentioned earlier this week in a comemnt on post by Gabrielle that I don’t consider myself to be a very good father. I see examples around me of fathers that just amaze me. Most of them have been fathers longer than me, and I see their love for their children and their desire to see the lives of their children reflect Christ.
And this, on the good days, drives me to Christ. It drives me to Christ because I’ll never be a good enough father. But my children have a better Father who’s always Home. And He’ll never let them down or yell at them or ignore them or any of the sins I or the man I met might commit against our children. And that’s really the only encouraging message my seatmate can send his daughters: that they need to depend on a Man. On Jesus. And so do you and I.
We are imperfect people in an imperfect world. I believe we grow by embracing our responsbilities, rather than running from them. Someone who strives to be a good father, will be one.
I certainly agree with both of your first two statements, Conrad, but the last one I have to quibble with.
I quibble because I am an imperfect person in and imperfect world, further a sinful person living in a sinful world–and striving to be a good father will not make me a good father.
This past Lord’s Day the sermon was on the passage in Mark where Jesus is approached by a rich, young ruler. Upon the man’s address of “good teacher” for Jesus he is asked “why do you call me good? Only God is good.”
No amount of striving will make me a good man, a good husband, or a good father. My main goal with my children is to point them to the One True Only Good Father, who is our God and will always be there for them, and to continually trust in the grace of Jesus to change me.
And Jesus has promised that He will do that: change me to be more like Him. But it doesn’t happen because of my work, but because of His work in me by His grace.
And that is the point of my post–that all of us need Jesus. And I am thankful that He stopped me in my tracks and loved me when I was even more unlovable than I am today. And because of His work in me and His grace to me I live for Him and Him alone–and trust that He will work in my children the way He has worked in me.