Father's Day Tribute

In conservative Christian circles, I'm seeing a backlash to the extreme feminist movement. There's a lot of talk these days about men stepping up and being the leaders of their families. (This is usually in the context of women getting back in the home and submitting to their husbands.) And I do understand where they are coming from. I do believe that extreme feminism has emasculated many men and some Christians are extremely passionate about getting us back to traditional roles. And they do have some good points. Unfortunately, I see many men missing the point of Biblical leadership and using their Biblical role of leader as an excuse to be the 'boss' who barks orders at his family all day and expects everyone to do things his way all the time. Jesus Christ had a very simple definition of leadership: Service. The King of Kings came to serve, not to be served.

It's in this context that I'd like to pay tribute to my Dad this Father's Day. You see, my Dad modeled servant leadership superbly. My Dad is a man of few words and big actions. His love language is acts of service. His spiritual gift is serving. And I know no one who does it better than he does. My Dad never led family devotions or preached to us. I guess I should clarify that he never preached with words, but he preached the Gospel daily with his actions. My Dad led his family as Christ leads us - by serving us.

My Dad is an engineer (and really really smart), and really handy as well. Those are great traits for a life of service. A repairman never entered our house because my Dad could fix anything. Our cars never went to the mechanic because my Dad could always fix them. And he always just took care of things. As a child I didn't really give it much thought. I took it for granted that Dad could fix anything. When something broke, I would just hand it to him and say, "will you fix this?" And he would say, "yeah, leave it on the steps so I'll see it." The next day it would be good as new sitting on the steps for me to have back. There were very few words exchanged and no thanks required. As an adult, I have reflected on what a good illustration this is for how we should relate to God. God says we should receive the kingdom like a little child. I believe we make the Gospel too complicated sometimes. Maybe it's as simple as saying, "God, here's my broken heart, will you fix this?" and God saying, "sure, just leave it out where I can see it." And like magic it gets fixed. That's what a good and loving Father does. When I look back, I realize that every time my Dad changed the oil in my car, or fixed my broken toys, he was saying "I love you." Furthermore, he was modeling for me the way my Heavenly Father delights in fixing my own brokenness.

I had the coolest toys growing up. Store bought toys just weren't good enough for Daddy's girls. Sure I had a Fisher-Price phone like every other kid. But my Dad bought a pair of old office phones and wired them to really work. Playing telephone with my sister meant we could go to different rooms and really call each other, and then really hear and talk to each other through the phones. (The phones have since been passed on to Keziah who already enjoyed playing with them with her cousin.)

The plastic toy kitchens that every young girl has were nothing compared to my toy kitchen. My Dad built us a kitchen out of wood that is at least twice the size of those other play kitchens. It had plenty of cabinet space, a real-looking stove with a glass door, and a real metal sink. And did I mention that the faucet really worked? Yeah he put a pump-faucet on the sink so you could hide a bowl of water under the sink and actually pump water out of the faucet. It put those store-bought play kitchens to shame. When my sister and I got into competitive gymnastics, my Dad built us a balance beam to practice on in the basement and a bar that he concreted in the ground in our yard. A lot of the furniture in my childhood home was built by my Dad. He built a bookshelf and toy box for Keziah before she was born. My Dad delights in making stuff for us. It's a gift of his time, a gift of his talents, and another way to say, "I love you." Furthermore, he was modeling for me the way my Heavenly Father delights in giving me good gifts, gifts far better than anything the 'world' could give me.

You've probably heard it said that little girls grow up and marry their fathers. While not always true, it is true for me. My dad had a huge influence on the man I married. Before I met Michael Paul, I had a three page list of everything I wanted in a husband. Not being able to change the oil in a car was a deal breaker for me. I knew I could never be happy with someone who didn't measure up to my Dad. When Michael Paul and I were engaged and my parents had gotten to know him, my mom pulled me aside and said, "you know you're marrying your father, right?" I smiled real big and said, "uh huh!" She returned a knowing smile that wore 25 years of the ups and downs of marriage and replied, "just wanted to make sure you know what you're getting into!" I hope my Dad takes it as a very high compliment that I wanted to spend my life with someone just like him.

My Dad with Julie and me making great family memories on our sailboat:

The proud Grandaddy with his first grandchild:

Happy Father's Day!