Beyond the Biology

Fathering is about what you do, not how many children you have.

One Father’s Day, the pastor of a church called all the fathers to the front to be recognized. Frank remained seated. After all the fathers had assembled, the pastor paused and said, “You too, Frank.”

Frank had been married many years but had yet to have children. He was active in the church boy’s club and could often be seen offering counsel to a young man. He set a stellar example for the children of the church. He cared for and defended his wife; he was a combat veteran and never missed a church workday.

The church was a little surprised when he had not joined the other men at the front of the church. Many children would grow up to say he had been a better father figure than their own “old man”.

Having children is easy, fathering is far more difficult.

It’s Father’s Day again, already. It does not feel that long ago I was extolling the virtues of my own Dad. I was tempted to present a “My Dad, Volume Two,” because I could write about him every year and never scratch the surface.

I remember the sense of incompletion last year after I had published my Substack. I neglected to drive home that boys who are becoming men are watching us. The boys at church, family members, our children’s friends.

Not just boys are watching, so are the young ladies. By the way we treat our wives, we demonstrate how they should expect their husbands someday to treat them.

I pray you all have had strong fathers in your lives. I also know men need someone like “Frank,” strong men of sound character.

My tiny home church in my tiny hometown had a generous complement of men. I can still remember some of their names. I remember them standing on the front porch of the church after service, sharing story after story while insisting the whole time, “It’s time I got home.”

“They all had flaws, otherwise they would have attended that perfect church down the street”

I remember my mom telling Dad, “And you say the women socialize too much.”

I feel like all these men were veterans of World War II, Korea or Vietnam, although I know that is highly unlikely. They exuded a brash, manly friendship which, while desperately avoiding tenderness, was open and felicitous. I could not wait for the day I would return and tell them some whopper of a war story. I never did, and most of them are now with the Lord.

Most importantly, the pastor had a dugout of spiritual heavy hitters upon whom to call. Whether it was urgent prayer or building a new wing on the church structure, the church was always well manned.

They all had flaws, otherwise they would have been in that perfect church down the street. Rocky drove a little too fast, Russell “didn’t believe in getting sick,” Gary had a rough life before coming to faith. They all had a story, but most people do.

My father-in-law (aka Buddy) was an unforgettable man. He lived on Oahu, Hawaii on December 7, 1941. He saw some of the Japanese aircraft inbound for the Pearl Harbor raid. Soon after, he lied about his age to get into the Navy, and later fought in the Korean War.

He was a good boxer, a sport I do not care to try. He would watch whatever sport was playing on the television. What was impressive was his expertise in whatever sport he was watching. I asked him if he could sit through nine full innings of baseball, and he didn’t understand the question.

He volunteered in his local hospital transporting patients. He loved it. Patients and medical personnel loved him. This means a lot to me, since a week ago the volunteer taking me to the discharge lounge after my knee replacement jammed my feet into the furniture, causing excruciating pain. I once thought driving a wheelchair was a job anyone could do, but I have changed my mind.

Our church had a boys program called “Royal Rangers.” Buddy taught the youngest group while I taught one of the older groups. He said, “The younger you can teach them about Jesus, the better off they’ll be.”

He was extremely intelligent, but he did not need everyone to know how smart he was. His quiet, humble attitude was refreshing. I was reading Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities when he spoiled it for me by telling me why Madame Defarge was always knitting.

Like the men at my hometown church, and my own dad, he was not perfect. Our churches are not populated with perfect people.

The Bible gives us a long list of great men. Moses, Joshua, David, Jehoiada the Priest and Elijah are just a start of the multifaceted canon of godly men. Scripture shows them to us in an unvarnished fashion. We can strive to emulate their character and devotion, and we can learn from their mistakes.

Fathers, (and father figures), be vigilant, work hard. Let us be holy, be candid; humble in victory, honest with our shortcomings. Aim for perfection but be kind to yourselves. Let us never forget, the world needs more fathers. Remember, God is our Heavenly Father, and He is always with us in this sacred task. Whether or not you are a father now, you can be a strong Christian male figure to a young person in your sphere of influence.