Saturday, June 20, 2015

"Honoring Fathers"


Honoring Fathers

Moses said, 'Honor your father and your mother'; and,       
    'He who curses father or mother, let him be put to death.”   Mark 7:10

 
Father’s Day, although not quite the celebration of Mother’s Day, is a great time for reflection.  It can bring out the best in a man, or the worst.  It can fill him with regrets, or with satisfaction.  At its worse, he may retreat and draw into his shell, but at its best, a father will see he can still become better.
In my estimation, there is nothing worse than a father who sexually abuses his child and second place, is the one who physically abuses his children.  Both of these behaviors leave deep scars in a child’s life and most of them grow up believing they are worthless and often display the same type of behavior when they become adults.  This is fatherhood at the depth of the downside.  Only those who experience this will know that God alone can set them free from bitterness, un-forgiveness and a sense of worthlessness. 
You may say, “My father never did those things” and that is wonderful; my father never did those things either. Yet some of us have such mixed feelings on Father’s Day.  When old wounds open up, even after years, they are very sore and need to have First Aid.  Where do we go for First Aid?  To the Red Cross, of course - the Cross where Jesus died; the cross stained red with the blood he shed to wash away our sins.
Christians know God is in the restoration business.  Some of you have been restored and have discovered you are of great worth in the eyes of God.  It is then you began to change and you find your rightful place in life.  Men, reflect on the kind of father you are. Where are you lacking in fatherhood? What kind of memories will your children have of you when Father’s Day rolls around? 
            I have mixed memories of my father.  I remember Sunday afternoon drives and picnics at roadside parks, fishing from a wooden rowboat and listening to the oars dip steadily into the water.  How secure, knowing my father was taking me safely back to shore.  I was never afraid when I was with him.  I remember excursions to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and the time he took me down the Indian River in his little trapper’s boat. 
If I close my eyes, I can still see him sitting in the green metal lawn chair under the little maple tree he planted.  When I returned home for visits with my family in the summer, you could be sure that’s where he would be.  The children would jump out of the car and run towards him calling, “Grandpa, Grandpa, we’re here.”  He would hold both arms out and they would cover him with hugs and kisses, but only for a few minutes, then he would say, “All right, that’s enough now.”  Then they would run and find Grandma to hug. 
In the winter, Dad always wore plaid, flannel shirts with the musky scent of the muskrat and mink pelts he sorted in his garage.  His trade was a trapper and fur dealer of animal pelts.  When I was young he often let me help stretch the pelts on drying boards, or pack them in gunny sacks.  He also owned the Standard gas station in our town of Hesperia, Mi.
He used ‘Old Spice’ aftershave lotion and liked to wear a heavy flannel bathrobe and alpaca lined slippers in the winter.  He smoked a pipe, drank strong coffee, and had an egg, toast and cornflakes for breakfast every day.  He liked real honeycomb on his toast.  He wore a red cap and liked to hunt, fish and play Yukor at the billiard hall.
            I also remember the time he packed his suitcase and left, but he came home later that night and I was so happy.  I remember he didn’t go to church, or pray. He only once or twice ever came to watch me perform in school functions and when I showed him my report card, he would only glance at it and say, “Yep, that’s all right."  He never asked me anything about what I liked, or what I did for fun.  He and my older brother didn’t see eye to eye.  He never had a best friend.  He complained a lot about money and hated to part with a penny.  I wish, just once, he would have said, “I love you," but he never did.  Neither did he ever say, “You’re pretty”, or smart, or, “you did a good job.”
When Dad passed away at age seventy-two, I was in my late thirties.  It was one of the hardest times in my life.  All I could think about was never again would I see him sitting under the maple tree in their back yard.  After the funeral, I put on his old flannel bathrobe and his fleece lined gloves and sat in my rocking chair crying for a whole day.
            It took a long time for me to get past the grief of his death. I loved him so much and knew he loved me in his own way.  It wasn’t just missing his physical presence, which I did; it was as though I felt cheated, because he left me and I had never won his approval.  There was an empty place in my life that had never been filled, even though I always knew he loved me. When Father’s Day came the next year, I wrote the following poem for him.

                                    Father 

            I thought of you today - a special thought.
            Not that I don’t think of you often, but missing you a little more,
because of the day. 

I picked a rosebud and would have placed it
            on your grassy coverlet, if I could have,
because of the day. 

            I would have liked to talk to you as I used to do,
            and given you a ‘little something’, even if you didn’t need it,
            - because of the day. 

            The best I could do was to pick a rosebud from the bush in my yard
            that marks your passing, and tell you I love you,
            - because of the day.

          Dads, what will your children remember about you when you’re gone? It doesn’t matter if they are four or forty, they need your approval. They need to know you are interested in them and care what is going on in their life.  Tell them you love them.  Don’t assume they know.
For those of you who have not known the love of an earthly father, the love of your heavenly Father far exceeds any love you desire. “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!”  (I John 3:1)  How wonderful to know we have a father who constantly watches over us and cares about every part of our lives. 
We are his children and in Romans 8:15, we are told to call him, ‘Abba’, meaning, Daddy.  His arms are always waiting to receive us and he welcomes our love; even desires it.  In Hebrews 13:5, “God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."  What comfort this is for all of us - the children of God.
If you have failed as a father, it’s not too late. Where do you go for guidance?  The Word of God is full of wisdom regarding relationships of father’s to their children.  The book of Proverbs speaks much of the father-son relationship.  The New Testament is full of advice on being a loving, God-fearing father.  Can you improve?  God’s Word says you can change.  Why not try?
 
Me and my Dad, Lewis Hammond.
 
 

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