Being a Father

I spoke to an acquaintance yesterday about the child we are adopting.  This acquaintance is about my age, single, works where I do with a parallel job so he makes a little more than I do.  But while he has himself to support, I support my wife and three kids.  He was appalled that we would think to adopt another.  He couldn't see how I supported my present family, much less go through an adoption with its accompanying costs and future support needs, on my salary.
  We talked about our students, too.  I spoke of a particular student who had been absent a lot, how I had asked about her sickness.  The curious thing my acquaintance said was, "Well, your idea of a father must be very different from mine."  He went on to describe how his father would lay down the law and you did as you were told.  I explained that while my father had some similarities to that concept, I felt that I owed my children and my students something a little different.  No one would even begin to think that I went easy on my kids (by birth or by occupation).  I have earned the reputation for being a demanding and exacting teacher.  But I also hope that my kids see the other side too, where I am there to support and encourage them to be the best God made them to be.  I think they do, most of the time.  Except for those who call me evil.
  And yet, I think I fail most of the time.  Perhaps I take myself too seriously, or think too much of my place in their lives.  Unfourtunately, no one really knows how I am doing, including myself, until we see the result.  I always say I am more interested in where my kids end up (10, 20 years down the road) than how they do tomorrow.  God lays such convoluted paths for us that no one really knows where they will be.  As Jesus said, "Do not worry about tomorrow.  Today has enough trouble of its own."
   So why do I think I fail?  Well, according to short-term results, and some long-term.  My own children are focused in the wrong direction, talking more about Tolkien, Harry Potter, and Greek mythology than the true Lord and Saviour they have pledged to.  They whine and complain and bicker more than any children I know.  And as a leader, I fail my wife.  She has trouble being satisfied with what she has and hungers for better.  This is not the family of a man guided and dedicated to God.
  And yet...David was a man after God's own heart, and his family was in shambles.  He wrote psalms we still sing, solidified a nation, killed a giant, all through his dedication to God.  He also stole sacred bread from the temple, murdered Uriah, and married his mistress Bathsheba.  And yet...a man after God's own heart.
  When my daughter was very young, I would kneel by her bedside and pray.  As a young father, it was very apparent that my daughter would make her own choices, and while I could affect those the choices were hers to make.  To obey or fight.  To love or strike.  To plug her ears or to listen.  To be humble or proud.  As a teacher and older father, nothing has changed.  The choices of good and evil still lie before my children and I can only influence their choices.  I can do no more.
  Maybe that is what made David a man of God.  Not that he did what was right (apparently), but that his heart was in God's hand.  And when he sinned, he expected judgement and accepted it.  He recognized God for who he is and did not fight him.
  Lord, grant me patience and a desire for your heart.  Father, teach me to be hopeful as you are for us, never failing in my love for my children.  Holy Spirit, work in the lives of my dear ones.  Work your miracles that we may meet in the sky and finally be at peace.

A Little Bit of Goodness

I wonder why they are walking up the stairs.  It's funny to think that I can see them and they
don't know they are being observed.  I see they're wearing IDs...must be some type of
official establishment. Why does the building have such large and clear windows up the
entire stairwell?  I wonder...

...how they think that of me.  Why is it that they view my words

of comfort and hope as wisdom?  Anything useful I have to say is 

just what God speaks, what he has taught.  They don't know, I 

guess, of the things deep inside.  Of the past hurts and aches,

crimes and darkness.  They don't see my inmost being the way 

I do: the dark places occupied by selfish sins, greeds, and lusts.

If only they could see, they would no longer...

...scratch themselves.  Or worse.  What lewd acts do we perform when we think

no one is looking?  How often have people walked up those stairs and caught a 

second to smoke, to unzip and tuck in their shirt, or even exposed their secret

places to satisfy a dark and dirty desire?  And what I am watching for?  Am I

hoping to catch a glimpse of wanton privacy?  Or maybe I am just...

...watching for something special to emerge.  So many times I see 

the glimmers of possibility expose themselves for a moment.  Is

that not my task, not to be some freak wise man but rather to be 

the quiet cricket telling them , showing them of the beauty made 

in them by the Creator?  Perhaps that is what wisdom is: seeing 

the truth and speaking it when there is need.  It is not that I must

know their innermost secrets, but rather that I want to encourage

the brightness of their spirit and help them release their fears.

And I just hope they never misread it.  That is the constant fear,

is it not?  That confluence of fear and  darkness that dreads the 

possible-inevitable and hopes, prays, works to make it the

impossible.  But I cannot live in fear, and so I must do what is right,

for them, and continue to sacrifice the darkness to the Light...even

in my secret thoughts.  But even so, God will...

...make all things good.  How interesting.  I thought he stopped

to chat her up, but he was simply being courteous.  Why did he

move aside?  Does he always, for anyone, or is it just because it

was a woman coming up the stairs?  I have taken pride in myself, 

noticing the lack of air-conditioning due to the open windows, the

IDs and lack of doors in the stairwell.  But of what use is this pride?

Here I lie, watching people's lives as they walk up and down stairs.

And I am satisfied.  What will continue today is that one man's gesture

of respect, and since I do not know his whole life, only this brief instant,

I must take it for what it seems to be.  A little bit of goodness.  Oh

how many times do I get a glimpse and see the poverty of the soul!

And yet here, in this quietude of my bedroom watching the sonorous

steps across the way, was given the gift of someone's thoughtfulness.

It gives me hope.

Is that what sets me apart, God?  Is it that a little bit of kindness,

of goodness, shines into their lives?  And yet, like the young man

in the stairs, all the goodness that I have flows from the throne of your

grace.  Whether through parents, friends, or strangers, or directly, all

goodness flows from your throne.   Just as your grace does.

It is enough then.  May the small moments of my time in their lives be the same as that one gesture.  That while so many expect failure and darkness, as is typical of the world, may the light you give me shine through, exposing them to your Love and Tenderness.  And I am but a portal, a little bit of goodness reflecting your light in my life.  It is enough.

Good morning, world.

It is time

The time has come.  I have wasted enough time, though I can feel and see God's hand at work in this time that has passed.  Perhaps it is merely TIME now, as opposed to a mistake.  Does not God fashion us in his Time, honing us to perfection in the right moment?
  My family is not falling apart, and yet it feels misshapen.  My wife is in the doldrums and I am blazing ahead, but...  I have lost the respect of my family, if I ever had it.  When I consider my own mother and father, and my siblings, I see that I do not want the respect of fear from my family, whether it be fear of disappointment or fear of retribution.  I want the respect that God desires of me.  I do not want the same amount or level as God; I am not so full of hubris.  But I want the same flavour.  Respect borne out of love, devotion, and appreciation for the position I have in my family.  But God earned his position through his love for us, by his creation and sacrifice and ever-lasting care.  So how am I to earn my family's respect now?
  The only guide I have, the best one, really, is the Saviour himself.  First, he sacrificed everything: his exalted position, his life, his time. He surrendered his entire being to God first, and through that surrender to his people. Second, by surrendering himself to his Father, he set the example for us, his beloved children, in how one is to live life.  This I must do.  This I will do.

  It is small and petty, and almost unworthy of mention, but I have surrendered my online gaming accounts to everything.  I do not have the time to devote to be any good at them, really, and what worth are they when I am dead and gone?  Who that I truly admire as men and women of God spend their time in such a pursuit?  So if I am to be respected, must I follow in their example.  It is TIME.

  Time to truly devote myself to God.  Time to spend time where the time God created is worth being spent.  Time to write, time to correspond, time to spend with people, time to invest in people.  Time to invest in my children, and in my wife, and in my community.  Time to be who I was made to be, and settle for nothing else.  How much TIME I have wasted... No, not wasted.  Although the slough of clay off a potter's wheel is unused and tossed out, it had to be there to remove in the first place.  It is simply time.

  I will be writing more often, pouring time into useful pursuits.  I hope it will be of use to you.

Heartache

I take pains to keep my identity hidden; it's is frivolous, really, since most people who read this know who I am. But there is a semblance of dignity here, of anonymity that allows me to post the cries and passions of my heart. I haven't posted for ages, mostly because of a lack of time and energy. But I still have a small hope that maybe this blog, at times, speaks to people and gives them a stronger Hope.

I generally post out of the passion of my heart, and, in a sense, this post is such. But this time, I thought I'd post my cry to my God. This post is not for you. This is for me. Yet, if God in his wisdom uses this for you, then glory to him that the prayer of a weak-eyed man makes a difference:

Dearest Saviour, why do you torture me so? I have such passions of love and hope, yet I am tongue-tied and torn. You have given me such a cautious spirit, but the prudence means so much is left unsaid. Would it be so wrong, God, to speak unfiltered from the heart? Would it cause so much evil?

Yet, I know the answer, God. We are not called to live selfish lives, prostituting our hearts to any. Rather we are called to speak with psalms and hymns, words of compassion and hope. To speak unfiltered is to speak without you, without the wisdom you have given me in the few years I have had on this earth. But how, Lord, to I conquer these burning emotions within me? I have so little time before I will lose them again...

But it is not about me, is it? It is not about my passion, but yours. When I speak and act from my own heart, throwing care and caution to the wind, I neglect you and bear the evils that come from that stupidity. If I speak and act as you will, however, then I will be a blessing and a hope. Maybe I was not supposed to speak yet. Maybe it is not time. Maybe it will never be.

Lord, teach me to be patient for the end of days. Make your patience the bricks and mortar of my heart. Make your wisdom the source of my words. Teach me to live for them, and not for me. That is why I am here, isn't it? So mold me in your image, dear Lord. And thank you, for those few, those precious few.

This was not for you. It was for me. But who knows God's plans, eh?