Fatherhood

June 18, 2023

Scrolling through Facebook, it doesn’t take too many swipes of the finger to see that everyone is extolling the virtues of the father in their lives. Every one of them is the best dad ever, and to the writer, it’s true. If it weren’t, they wouldn’t be writing. It’s tempting to add my scratchings to the pile, but it wouldn’t add much to the mountains of adulation being heaped up today.

There is much for which I could praise my father; he was a loyal, faithful, and hardworking man of integrity who taught me more by example than word. But what I want to do tonight is the more serious and pertinent business of thinking about the father I have been and the father I want to be. They are not identical; one is reality, the other aspiration.

I watch my own sons as fathers, and have often said to myself, “I wish I had thought of that.” They have built relationships with their children filled with conversations, confidence, and wisdom. They are the kind of fathers their children not only want to be around, but have their friends around as well. I think we built that kind of relationship with our children, but I must confess that Linda was the chief relationship builder. She’s the better listener, and better able to relate to kids. I was more like the Great Oz, behind the scenes, giving whatever wisdom I could to Linda who would pass it along to the kids.

I made my share of mistakes, have often wished I could go back and have a “do-over,” but since that isn’t possible, I’ll settle for the alternative. I want to be a father (and grandfather) who listens carefully before speaking, who is available for everything from small errands to major projects. While I don’t think my kids particularly need my wisdom at this stage in their lives, I want to remain an example of faith and faithfulness. Too often, fathers have gone off the rails later in life, and it is as devastating as when it happens early on—perhaps more, because if what has been secure for years suddenly comes unglued, it’s a major seismic event, much like a volcano; the longer it has been dormant, the greater the devastation when it finally erupts.

I’ve never been an exciting sort of man; there were times I wish I had been so, but no longer. I’m content to be ordinarily steady as long as I can be extraordinarily adventurous for Jesus. When this life is at its earthly end, I want my family to be able to say I showed them Christ. And at my funeral, I would like someone to be able to look at me lying there and say, “Look! He’s alive!”