It’s Father’s Day. As I contemplate, memories come unbidden. In the fall, I turn 42, and have had the honor of fathering two sons and raising a third. I can remember hospital waiting rooms, diapers, bottles, walkers, bikes, skateboards, video games, more things than I have the room to mention. Like my Uncle Fred said, when he unknowingly gave my mother the name for her book, “There are hard times, but no bad times.” As I sit and ponder on what it means to be a dad, I am prompted to examine the legacy that my own father left me.
No reflection is complete without a trip through the past. I was born during the days of the Cuban missile crisis. Dad was in the Air Force Reserve. He had completed active duty, and was subject to call up. Mom was very pregnant with me. I later remember him saying that his biggest fear was that he would be called away to war and possibly never see his baby. Thankfully, he was not recalled, and the crisis was resolved without war.
I remember very little about my youngest days. I suppose a lot of people are like that. However my earliest memories are of us as a family spending lots of time together. We frequently took trips together, picnicking, whatever. As a young boy, I don’t remember the first time we went fishing. It seems like something I’ve always done. Growing up, I suppose we were poor by the standards of the day. There were many of the finer things we did without, due to the tightness of money. Dad worked full time at the newspaper, mom did sewing at home for people. In our spare time Dad and I did odd jobs and light hauling with an old pickup. We cut and hauled firewood to heat the house during the winter.
I don't mean to portray the old dirt-poor, walk 5 miles to school in the snow, barefooted, uphill both ways, scenario. We were far from that, but what is striking to me is how they seemed to make happen just what needed to be done. It seemed that everything was done with careful planning and deliberation. It just had to be that way. Now, at my age, with kids of my own, I have a full appreciation of what sacrifices my folks made. In addition to keeping my sister and me alive, feeding, clothing, and housing, they wove into our everyday lives a rich heritage, that I carry with me to this day.
Was it all rosy? No. There were times of discipline. Dad was strict, and no mistake about it. His word was law in our home. There were many times I thought him unfair and I even resented him and chafed under his authority. There were many times when I had transgressed the law that I was even afraid of him. I did not understand at the time that that fear could be channeled into forging character for myself. Unbeknownst to me, he was shaping me, forming me into the man that I would become. Was it perfection? Surely not, but now I also understand the dilemma he must have faced. Raising kids of my own, I often agonize over the decisions that I must make, whether they are understood or not. He must have done that too.
Of all the examples that dad set for me one stands out above the rest. In this day and age, marriages are entered and abandoned without much thought being given to the implications thereof. Mom and Dad have been married now for 42 years. There was never a time when my sister and I were kids that we had to look at the prospect of living without one of our parents. This is not to say that Mom and Dad were never challenged in their relationship. Many trials confronted them. But after all was said and done, they were determined to keep our family together.
Big deal, you might say. Or you might even be persuaded to laud them for that. But Dad gave us more than he ever had as a kid. He never got to know his dad, until he had started a family of his own. His folks divorced when he was a small boy. Dad was raised by an abusive step dad. He was physically, mentally, and emotionally abused. As soon as he was old enough, he joined the Air Force and left home. Seems a pretty dismal genesis for a soon to be husband and father. But things took an unexpected turn. A fellow airman invited Dad to church one day, and Dad agreed to go. In short, Jesus came into my father’s life at a young age. Involved in church as a new convert, he soon met my uncle who was stationed nearby with the Navy. They soon became best friends, brothers in Christ. Mark soon introduced Dad to his baby sister. They corresponded through the mail. He was stationed on Okinawa. When Dad shipped back over stateside, he made his way directly to my mother, and soon after, they were married. Almost a year and a half later, I was born.
The greatest single thing I can say that Dad did for us, was he gave us Jesus. For as long as I can remember, he always strove to put God first. Our household was a sanctuary, a Godly place to live and grow, and he defended it staunchly, sometimes even from us. There were many things we were not allowed to do, and we never missed church. Mom and Dad were involved, and taught us to be involved too. There were many times I chafed at this. I didn’t always want to go or to participate. But they were faithful. They raised us by the principle:
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. (Pro 22:6 KJV)This has proven true in my life. As a younger man, I am shamed to say that I strayed from the faith and the things I was taught. But the things of God had been so deeply ingrained in me that I could not help but return to Him. In fact as I sampled the things of the world, I always knew I would return. When I did, Mom and Dad were there, not judging, but welcoming me back. You see, they too knew I would return, they had God’s promise.
As a child I never understood what a struggle Dad had raising us. He never had much of a father figure to relate to. It is a problem that is common to us all I suppose. We tend to relate to God as a Father, in much the same way we relate to our natural fathers. It must have been immensely difficult. But there are always hidden blessings. God always makes a way. My Mom’s Dad was a Godly man, and had ministered the gospel for many years. When Mom and Dad married, Granddad took my Dad under his wing and mentored him as he would have, and did, for any of his four other boys.
Granddad led by example. He was an early riser. He was often up before dawn, studying his Bible and praying. He prayed for each of his children and their spouses, grandchildren and great grandchildren, naming all by name. What a blessing he was for us all. He went to be with Jesus in 1991. Dad was so influenced by that example that he has taken up the mantle. He rises early, prays and studies. I know he prays for his progeny, because we have discussed many matters between us.
I share so much of my family’s history because I know that there are many men, fathers, who feel like giving up. Some have already given up and turned away from the responsibilities God has given them. Perhaps much damage has been done. But God transforms lives. He took a boy that had been beaten and belittled and made him the patriarch of a family of Godly people. Both of his kids and all of his grandchildren are Christians and are heaven bound.
A final illustration of the power of God is this. Dad was able to forgive his step dad and become burdened for his soul. He prayed for his step dad and all of his unbelieving relatives back home. This impacted the family so much that they have almost all come to Christ. The hateful step dad that treated my Dad so cruelly, passed away several years ago, but not before being redeemed. He is now waiting for us in heaven. What a legacy!
If you are discouraged, thinking about leaving your wife and kids, men, it’s not too late. God, the perfect Father, has the power to change lives. He can take your situation and turn it into a rich legacy for your future generations. Turn to Him. Seek Him. Ask Him to make you the Dad you were meant to be. I can promise you the payoff is priceless.
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