Sunday is Fathers’ Day. I know that Fathers’ Day and Mothers’ Day and Grandparents’ Day and Third Cousin Day and Next-Door Neighbor Day is just a conspiracy dreamed up by merchants to get more of your hard-earned money, but there is something to honoring, recognizing our parents. Seems to me, it may have even made it into our LORD’s top ten list. Yes, it did, “Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.” To honor means “to give glory to” or “to revere.” For some of us that is fairly easy to do because we were blessed with godly fathers and mothers. For others, that
is difficult due to being raised in an unloving perhaps even hostile environment. Still others have to deal with the scars of neglect or abuse. I cannot imagine the difficulties of navigating such troubled waters. I thank God I don’t have to!
My father was a good man. Not a perfect man but a good, decent and honorable man who did his best to love and provide for his family. While not wealthy, we were certainly comfortable. I had things many of my friends did not. But the greatest thing my father provided was his presence. Whether a ball game, a concert, a school play or any other activity, he was there. My father coached my brothers but he was never my coach (the strain/frustration may have proved too much if he had). But he was at every game. As I sat on the bench watching the game, I did so, knowing my dad was there watching me watch. During my college years when I was on a church staff and preaching, once a month on Sunday night, he was there though it meant driving to Oklahoma City and getting back late Sunday night to leave early Monday morning to make sales calls around the state. My dad loved to sing. He wasn’t “good” but he made up for it by being loud. When pastoring my first church, the day of my ordination, dad was there. To my surprise, he got up and started down the aisle and he sang a special. It was his gift to me. Some Sundays, as we sing certain hymns, I hear his voice and I give thanks. That presence didn’t end with his sons, it was there for his grandchildren. Trips to Oklahoma City, Shawnee, Ponca City, Coweta for plays, ball games, concerts. I was there, in the hospital with dad, when he took his last breath. I was grateful that a few years earlier I had a conversation with him. I told him, “Dad, I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.” I recounted much of what I’ve said here. Then I said, “But what I can do, is try to be for my children and my grandchildren what you have been for me.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he nodded.
I hope I’ve been faithful to that promise. I’ve tried to be. More than that, I hope that despite my failures and missteps I’ve pointed, beyond my flawed example, to the heavenly Father who never fails. Sunday is Fathers’ Day, if your dad is still around let him know you love him. If you want to make him really proud, go and be a better dad than your old man. As a father, I can say nothing would bring me greater joy.
I will be gone Sunday but I’ll see you next week.
Rod