The Example of Father

"And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

What is a father? And what makes a man a good father? These questions cannot be answered with mere biology, though there is a biological foundation for the concept of fatherhood. There is a general ideal or pattern of what fatherhood is and should be, and any individual father is a good father in so far as he lives up to that ideal. And in this article, I want to look at a few specific aspects of this ideal--because I think they reveal something valuable for all people, even for those of us who are not fathers. One of the roles of a father is to teach; so let us learn something about what makes a good father and how that applies to being a good Christian.

(1) A father is prosaic. Fatherhood is a very ordinary thing. Nobody gets a Nobel Prize for fatherhood. You will seldom see a newspaper headline proclaiming in bold type that Mr. Brown is a good father. A father may be roughly defined as someone whom everyone takes for granted. If a man risks his life to save a child from a burning building, everyone applauds. But when a man gives years of his life to feed and clothe and protect and keep alive his child, nobody gives it a second thought. Being a father is not a matter of glitter and guilt, of fine words and golden phrases. It's a matter of grime and sweat, of grass stains and spilled milk. It means comforting scared children and repairing broken toys. It means working long hours and then coming home to a noisy house. It means a thousand small words and a thousand little deeds performed tirelessly and unnoticed.

Nobody ever looks back at their childhood and says: “My father was a good father because of this ONE thing he did.” Being a good father is not doing one big thing; it means doing a million little things, things usually unnoticed and unthanked.

But while this is especially true of parenthood, we should have this same kind of commitment in our love for God and for one another. The apostle John told his friends: “My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.” (1 John 3:18) That is the kind of love I'm talking about--a love which acts in practical situations and isn't content with fine sounding words.

There may be occasions when we find something great we can do for God; something to advance the kingdom of God; or something we can do to drastically help a neighbor in need. We read in history of Christian heroes who perform some spectacular service for God. I do not want to discount that. But many of us will never have that kind of opportunity and usually such opportunities come only once in a man's life. The greater question is whether we are faithful in the ordinary, commonplace matters of life. 

C. S. Lewis wrote a story in which he pictured himself visiting Heaven. There he saw a woman being accompanied by a vast procession of angels and showered with the honors of Heaven--and he thought she must be one of the famous saints of the church. But his guide told him, no: It was Mrs. Smith from London. Just an ordinary woman who had never done anything important--but she had loved God and served him in her ordinary, mundane life. And so, while she had been unnoticed on earth, she received recognition for her life in Heaven.

A father is a prosaic person; fatherhood stands or falls mostly by ordinary, commonplace actions; little things done or undone throughout life. And the same is true for us all. Like a good father, we should strive to be faithful even in the ordinary and everyday events of life.

(2) And that very much overlaps with the second aspect of fatherhood I want to mention: a father must be patient. Paul tells fathers to “bring... up” their children. That implies a process. Parenting is not quick work. Being a father is not the work of a moment. It's not the kind of thing you do and then it's over and you move on with life. It's a marathon, not a sprint. That's why the continual and even prosaic faithfulness I mentioned before is so important.

Notice Paul's contrast. Against the admonition to bring up children is the warning: “Father, provoke not your children to wrath.” He gives almost the same command to the Colossians, but adds this note: “Lest they be discouraged.” (Colossians 3:21) What is it in a parent that will cause anger and discouragement in a child? Several things, probably, but especially impatience. 

When a parent teaches a child something, the child isn't going to learn it the first time. Or the second. Or most likely the third. Raising a child means saying the same thing over and over again, teaching the same lessons, solving the same problems. Deuteronomy 6:7 describes how parents were to teach their children God's law: “ And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.” It wasn't just a one-and-done sort of thing. We have a picture of continual, repeated instruction.

That is why one of the most important attribute for a parent to have is patience--the ability teach the same lessons over and over again without becoming impatient; of not giving up or getting angry when having to deal with the exact same issue for the thousandth time.

And the truth is that though we grow up physically and mentally, there is still a sense in which we are all children, especially where spiritual things are concerned. We may think that as adults dealing with other adults, we would not need the same patience that a father must have for his children--but patience is a perennial necessity.

A good father doesn't give up on his kids, despite their slowness, because of his love and if we truly love our brothers and sisters then we should have that same patience with them. That is the attitude we must have for other people; the refusal to give up on them because of their failure; because of their slowness; being willing to work with them and help them even when they mess up; even when they hurt us.

(3) But this patience isn't merely a passive thing. It doesn't just mean not losing our temper. The role of a father is a positive, definite thing; that is the third aspect of a father: a father must be proactive.

Paul's words to fathers is an admonition, an admonition to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. He doesn't just say: “Well, try to keep your kids from getting in too much trouble and hope for the best.” The father takes a proactive role in the raising of their children.  This means taking definite and concrete action to bring about a desired end; it means deliberately and consciously considering what their children are to become and how to bring them to that goal. It means teaching and training and disciplining. It means making an effort.

Obviously, even the best parents make mistakes, but that doesn't change what parenting is. Think of a sculptor trying to chisel out a statue from a block of marble. So often he will fail to fully realize his vision. Very few sculptors achieve the fame of Michelangelo. But he still keeps chipping away, with his vision before him. He may not succeed, but he keeps trying; because he knows perfectly well that he wouldn't accomplish anything by just sitting back and looking at the marble and hoping it would turn into a statue on its own.

We often define love as the attitude which does no harm to others. And that is true. But it is only half of the truth. A mere passive refusal to harm may be something other than love--it may be justice or pity or even indifference. Love is always proactive. A good parent will not harm their child--but being a good parent is more than merely not harming them. The love of a parent must be something more than pity. It must be a concentrated desire and effort to bring them up. It means having a care and concern about how they turn out and taking proactive action to bring that end about.

And that is the kind of love we should all have for others. Of course, a father has a special responsibility and authority that does not carry through to other relationships, but the basic point remains the same. When we say that we love one another, that should mean more than just a refusal to hurt others; it should mean more than that we maintain a set standard of behavior concerning them; it should mean more than that we grieve when we see them fall into sin.

Too often, people fall into two camps when it comes to other people. Either they are isolated and just shut others on the outside, not really caring about them at all. Or they become harsh and judgmental, looking down on others, treating them with pride and scorn. And that is even without considering those who deliberately take advantage of others.

But the Christian attitude is none of these. Our love should be like the love a father.  Love should mean that we are actively working to help others, to help them become what God would have them to be, to grow up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. As I said, we don't have the same authority as a parent when dealing with other people, but in fatherhood, we do see a pattern for how we should act. 

(4) The love of a father is proactive. It actively seeks the best for others. And that leads naturally into the fourth aspect of fatherhood; a father is proud.

1 Kings 1 tells of how David, on his deathbed, installed his son Solomon as his successor on the throne of Israel. And verses 47-48 tell of how the officers of the court greeted this change: “And moreover the king's servants came to bless our lord king David, saying, God make the name of Solomon better than thy name, and make his throne greater than thy throne. And the king bowed himself upon the bed. And also thus said the king, Blessed be the LORD God of Israel, which hath given one to sit on my throne this day, mine eyes even seeing it.”

Notice what they said to David--that they hoped Solomon would be an even better king than David had been; that he would surpass and eclipse his father. (Which, from a political point of view he did.) And when David heard it, he rejoiced and thanked God that he had lived to see this day come to pass. 

That is especially striking because of something else in the story of David. You remember how, after the slaying of Goliath, King Saul promoted David and they worked closely together, and seems they had an amicable relationship. And do you remember what it was that drove a wedge between them and turned Saul into David's enemy? It was when the people began singing: “Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.” What embittered Saul was the idea that David might be doing better than he was doing. But that is exactly the thing which David found joy in--the idea that Solomon might surpass him.

David, as a father, was proud of son and was able to rejoice in his triumph, because of his humility. And I realize it sounds very paradoxical to say that someone is proud because they have humility, but that really is what happens in this situation. Because David's pride was not in himself, but in his son. He was able to rejoice in Solomon's exaltation because he loved him and wanted the best for him. 

That is what we mean when speak of a father being proud of his child. Of course, there may often be a selfish or carnal pride mixed in with this, but in its essence, this pride is a form of love--it is loving someone else so much that we can rejoice in their triumphs as much as if they were our own; it means caring more for someone else than for our own reputation or prestige. That is what love does, even on its lowest level; it takes us out of ourselves. I already talked about how love causes us to have concern for others, but it is important to point out that this also means having joy for others.

The greatest joy of a parent is to see their children doing well; the success and triumph of the child is the pride of the parent. (Or so they tell me.) This is the crowning success of love--when it enables us to rejoice in the success of others. This thing which sounds so paradoxical is a common experience for parents--a pride which is also humility, a joy even in being surpassed, a pleasure in being eclipsed. Not all parents feel it--I question whether Saul would have been happy in such a thing, even with his own son--but it is common enough to be recognizable. This is the fruit of parental love; this is what love can produce.

And, therefore, if have a love for others, for people outside our own family unit, for all people, then it should be characterized by this same pride and joy. Paul said that we should weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice. This means having compassion and sympathy with those who are suffering, but it also means having joy, exaltation, even (in a sense) pride in the accomplishments of others. “When one has a heartache, we all shed a tear; and rejoice in each victory in this family so dear.” William Cawmen said one of the greatest experiences for a Christian worker is that moment when someone you are working with surpasses you in their Christian walk. 

Like a father with his children, we should have a love and humility that allows us to rejoice in their accomplishments--even when it may mean that they surpass us. This is the logical conclusion of the last point. Love should cause us to labor to help others attain to spiritual life and so we should rejoice when they do attain it.

(5) That is what love can do--give us a new point of view which allows us to rejoice in the victories of others. And that leads us to the final aspect of fatherhood I want to talk about: a father must have perspective.

Think about Abraham. The association of Abraham with fatherhood is obvious. We often refer to him as Father Abraham. His whole life was built around a promise God had given him; the promise that he would be the father of a great people who would someday possess the land of Canaan. These are the words of God's promise to Abraham, from Genesis 12:2-3: “And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: and I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.”

And what is interesting about this promise is that Abraham never saw it fulfilled. He saw his children become a great multitude. He died without ever possessing the land of Canaan, besides his own burial plot. And yet we, from our perspective, can see that God's promise was fulfilled. We can see that Abraham was part of something far bigger than himself and his life had a meaning far beyond anything it might have seemed from a human perspective.

And while that was true in a special sense of Father Abraham, it is true in a general sense of any father. To be a father means to have a long perspective. You are working not just for this moment; your actions in raising your child will impact the rest of their life; the life of their children; and perhaps generations beyond that. 

A father must have a certain perspective--a perspective that recognizes the consequences of his actions; he must realize that this moment isn't all that matters. If you throw a stone into a pool of water, it will send circles of ripples outward far beyond the point of impact. That is what the work of a parent is like--it has consequences which give birth to more consequences and may start a circle of ripples which will continue until the end of the world. To be a father means to live with this recognition. 

But that is also true for all of us, even if we are not parents. Every action we perform; every interaction with us we enact; even the words we say--they may all have eternal consequences. Too many people go through life one day at a time. And there is a certain sense in which this is right. God gives us life one day at a time for a reason. But we also have to remember that we are not living for this day, but for the future and ultimately for eternity and so we must live with a perspective that sees beyond ourselves and beyond the present moment.

The story is told of an old man traveling along a somewhat deserted, back-country road and he came to a place where there was a deep ravine crossing the road. He cautiously made his way across the ravine and then stopped. Rather than going on, he stopped where he was and began felling trees and cutting them up to build a bridge across the ravine. A stranger saw him and asked: “Why are you building a bridge here? You're an old man on a long journey; you're never going to have to cross this ravine again. So why bother building a bridge?” And the old man replied: “My son is following me and someday will have to cross this ravine as well. I want to make sure that there is a safe path for him to cross.”

That is what a father is like--someone who looks beyond himself and works, even in ordinary and mundane things, to make a path for others. A Father is a bridgebuilder--and that is also what we all should be.