Recently I heard the preacher tell a congregation all that a father is to be. He made us priest, king, prophet, disciple and companion. Then there were all those scriptures supporting his tally.
The only thing is that when he neared the end, I felt like I was David strapped down with Saul’s armor. I couldn’t budge from the pew. Whew!
I guess those pretty pictures in religious magazines, the ones with a handsome man surrounded by beautiful offspring and that gorgeous wife, really did brainwash this naive mind.
At times, I would gaze at those perfect families seated on the sofa with the thick Bible positioned in the center to ask if they ever dropped French fries – catsup and all – on their laps. No, that could never happen to that family!
Nor could that lovely wife ever argue with her handsome husband with the large smile and dimpled chin. How could it ever be with such sweetness abounding?
But enough years have gone by that I know neat dads and perfect families don’t always come in such attractive packages. With that, I heave a sigh to recoup.
You see, being a good father isn’t a matter of appearances. When you stand before your Maker, He won’t ask you to smile or show off your family. Instead, you will face Him honestly to say, “I did my best – even in the worst of times.”
One evening years ago, I had a tussle with my then 7-year-old son. We were not seeing eye-to-eye. It was time for him to get ready for bed. I felt as if the evening had been rather botched up.
After he curled up under the blanket, I sat on the edge of his bed and started to pray. It was hard to find the right words, but I made a stab at it.
Should I turn the prayer into a mini-lecture, trying to get in one last punch? Or should I turn tender to love the little fellow to pieces? Would that be copping out – or wisdom?
His face turned away from me. He was wondering too what approach Dad would take!
Then I caught his big, brown eyes turn a bit more to size up my expression. With that, I wilted. After all, he knew he had done wrong earlier. But there was the look of hope in his face. Could there be mercy in the court?
I started to pray, “Dear Lord, thank You for my boy. You know I love him. Now we thank You for this night’s sleep. And may tomorrow be a good day.”
He swung his body around toward me to hug me tightly around the neck. His eyes were closed tight. There was no more reason to glance in wonder.
“Daddy, do you love me even when I am bad?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I answered. “I always love you.”
So, with that he said one of the most stupendous sentences ever. It isn’t novel or new. Yet it’s powerful.
“You’re the best daddy in the world.”
It was then that I promised myself something. Yes, there’s still much room for improvement as far as my being a father is concerned. And yes, I’ve goofed from time to time.
Yet that night I told my memory to hold on to one thing as the years kept passing by. It was the testimony of a little boy to a father who was sincerely trying.
“You’re the best daddy in the world.”
Don’t forget it, I said to myself as I turned out the light.
Don’t ever forget it.
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