Fatherhood on a Wing and a Prayer

We celebrated another Father's Day a week and a half ago, and in the midst of the handmade cards, celebratory lunch and hugs from the kids, I was struck by how much of fatherhood is, well, "winging it". I also was struck how much grace there is in parenting, and how I'm praying that my best intentions of being a good father come to fruition despite my own limitations and mistakes.

There are no introductory courses that are offered before one becomes a father. There are no entrance exams to test for competency. Books have some value, I suppose, but my sense is books tend to fall short in that they either (1) provide guidance so conceptual and high-level that they lack value in the day to day decisions of being a father or (2) otherwise fail to account for your particular scenario of parenting because every situation and child is different. That's probably the point: parenting is more art than science. Take, for example, the relatively straightforward scenario of trying to comfort a crying baby. It's not something that one can solve with a cheat sheet. I mean, some of the television shows I grew up with, such as Family Ties, the Brady Bunch and Diff'rent Strokes can help with select scenarios. Even the Bible, which as the apostle Paul wrote is "useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness" isn't an IKEA-like turn-by-turn instruction manual on good parenting.

I think most of the fathers in my age group, if we were to stop and think about it, would and should tremble of the awesome responsibility that we've been given. And most of us could pause and realize that bachelorhood and even childhood weren't that long ago for us. At least to me, it doesn't seem too long ago when I was the kid who was walking around the house bored or whining about school or the like. I remember having to deal with days where I didn't want to go to class or not wanting to get on that school bus. I remember times of loving summer vacation and days of worrying about tests at school. Now I'm in the position of being the father; the voice of wisdom, love and assurance.

And in the midst that responsibility, it's tempting for me to think, "My goodness, do I really know what I'm doing?" as if I woke up in a cockpit of a 747. I catch myself in the middle of a serious talk with my son thinking, "Boy, I really hope I telling him the right thing." My external assertiveness in parenting belies the fact that I'm constantly praying and hoping that each time I open my mouth, direct, comfort, teach or discipline, that I'm doing the right thing. After all, in parenting there are no referees and there is no instant feedback. 

If there's one thing that I'm confident about, it's that I love my children, and I suppose I could throw out something trite about love being enough, and as long as my intentions are loving, then that's all that matters. I just don't believe that's completely correct (as I've pointedly, though hopefully graciously told my own parents). Yes, none of my parental errors may be malicious, but those mistakes still might bring consequences and pain to my children that I'd just as soon do without.

Like all things, we look to God to equip us to do that which were are incapable of doing. I just pray that He would be particularly gracious in this area where the stakes are so high.

Chance Encounters in the Plaza

One evening recently, our family enjoyed a dinner at the Sugar Land Town Square and afterwards spend some time in the Plaza, where the kids did their usual running around the fountain area while Sarah and I sat back and enjoyed the cooling temperatures which had settled from an oppressively scalding 98 to a merely hot 88.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young man who couldn't be older than 19 walking around with a notebook and pen in hand and a book bag slung over his shoulder. He walked tentatively towards individuals in the plaza, and by watching his interactions with a number of individuals, I deduced he was either soliciting for a charity or proselytizing. Now having experienced walking through New York City for more than ten years, I've become pretty skilled at using non-verbal cues to make it clear that I absolutely do not want to be approached, and if you do so I will seriously make you regret it. Conversely, I also know how to make myself more approachable so a solicitor or similarly motivated stranger would sense that I could be approached without risk of life or limb.

Being in a pretty good mood that evening, I decided to put forward the "feel free to talk to me" vibe. I looked up at him as he shifted tentatively in my direction, and made eye contact and he shuffled over and nervously recited his rehearsed opening:

"Hi there. I'm doing a project to understand people's views towards religion and spirituality and was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I asked you some questions."

I pretty much knew where this conversation was going. So a little background on myself; I'm a devout Christian but I'm also prone to being a mischievous wiseguy so at this point my mind was racing. There was a 90% chance he was going to go the Evangelism Explosion script and then follow up with a "If you died tonight, what do you think would happen to you?" or he might play it a little softer with the InterVarsity or Campus Crusade Spring Break contact evangelism route and simply see what my religious experiences were and play it by ear.

So here was my mischief dilemma and my options:

• Option #1: I could play the hardcore atheist and tell him that I used to be fundamentalist before I got my doctorate in philosophy at Yale. I could pull some Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins militant atheist material out and make him work. Maybe I could throw out some perceived biblical contradictions - lack of harmony of certain gospel passages or perhaps some philosophical twisters around God's sovereignty and man's responsibility. Or I could ask him about the crucifixion and the inseparability of the Trinity. 

• Option #2: I could play the non-Christian and let him go through his script while I would appear increasingly engaged and enthusiastic about this gospel that He was sharing. As he spoke, I would increase the pace of my nods and my eyes would narrow in deep thought and agreement. I would ask "softball" questions such as "So I see that I'm a sinner and I can't make it up by doing good things, but then how can I be saved?" and "Could God possibly love me after all of he bad things that I've done? Isn't being a Christian all about following rules?" and "But I'm not a Bible scholar. Don't you need to understand the whole Bible to be a Christian?" It was the evangelism equivalent of letting my son beat me at checkers.

• Option #3: I could just be myself and be transparent about my own faith.

Options #1 and #2, while probably intriguing and darkly amusing, just felt too dishonest (and if done the wrong way, mean) for my conscience to take, even if I were to slap him on the back afterwards and tell him, "I'm just messing with you kid, thanks for being a good sport." Option #1 also had the danger of possibly introducing questions for which he might seriously not be ready.

So mischief aside, I played it straight and God was gracious in actually bringing to bear a really nice conversation. I invited him to sit down near me and we when he asked me how sure I was that I was going to heaven, I told him that my total assurance was based on the sufficiency of what Jesus Christ had done for me on the cross, securing my salvation by paying the penalty for my sins and cloaking me in His righteousness. At that point he put his pencil away.

Thankfully, he didn't just walk away to find someone "worth saving" (this actually happens occasionally when some contact evangelists meet Christians), but stuck around so I could ask him about who he was (a 19-year old college sophomore-to-be from Patrick Henry College home for the summer), what he was up to (joining his friends in trying to share the gospel through open question dialogue), where he went to church and what sort of Christian fellowship he was part of in school.

I shared with him about my own faith and my church, shared some words of encouragement and prayed for him and his evangelism project. He was effusive in his thanks as we parted.

But in truth I found the encounter really encouraging. Seeing faith in action, and a child-like enthusiasm to share about Jesus' love is something that was both challenging and humbling. There was something very pure about the way the young man carried himself; there was little evidence of cynicism or arrogance in his endeavor, but rather a humble determination to share good news and to be used as God's instrument in spite of his own nervousness, youth and inexperience. These are things I should aspire for more of in my own life.

Beaches, Sunburn and Humility

My wife has mentioned on a couple of occasions that our lives since we've moved has felt a little bit like an extended vacation, at which point I usually deadpan, "Well, a vacation where I need to go to work five days a week." I get her point, which is we've decided to throw ourselves into visiting and experiencing as much as the Houston area has to offer. Since we've arrived here, we've gone to the zoo, a few parks, a few museums, a seaside amusement town and most recently, Galveston Beach. We've also eaten out a lot during the weekends to explore the culinary breadth of all that Houston has to offer (I have to say that the food here is excellent and cheap), but also largely because roach and mice problems in our apartment makes cooking here unappealing and unappetizing.

Why have we thrown ourselves into full tourist mode? To Houston's credit, there's a bunch of things to do here and it really does live up to its reputation as being a great place for families. We're also in temporary housing (did I mention the roaches?) which doesn't necessarily encourage us to be homebodies. But the greatest driver, at least for me, is wanting to making the most of our time here, recognizing that I have no idea how long we'll be here. For example, I had assumed that our family would have stayed in the New York / New Jersey area forever after spending 34 cumulative years there. As a result, two touristy experiences of visiting the Statue of Liberty and the top of the Empire State Building went unchecked. Why? I figured those things weren't going anywhere and I'd have the rest of my life to check those out. Whoops.

So this past weekend, we went to Galveston Beach and had a great time. The beach was clean, facilities were decent, and good and inexpensive eating options were available. Our kids, probably thanks to swim lessons, showed much greater courage around water compared to last summer, with all of them being more comfortable in wading to deeper water and jumping waves they previously hadn't before. The weather was nice, with the sun comfortably heating the shore as it got cooled by a light breeze - which is why I stupidly eschewed the sunscreen and paid the price. By the time we were driving home, any part of my skin which was in contact with anything stung like the devil. And of course, I was as red as a lobster. So after I had unpacked the car and put the kids to bed, I took a drive to the 24-hour Walmart to find some substance to soothe my skin.

Now there are handful of things that you can ask for in a store which create some degree of embarrassment. Asking about birth control (or anything sexual in nature) and hemorrhoid ointment (or anything rectal or bowel related) certainly fall into this category, just because of the nature of the product. Asking for sunburn medication (or acne medicine or plus-sized clothes) is embarrassing because it immediately draws attention to yourself because the recipient of the question will immediately link your request to some sort of physical deficiency or attribute and say, "Oh yeah, you need that bad." For example, here was my exchange with the young lady in the pharmacy department:

Me: Excuse me, where could I find lotion or gel to treat sunburn?
Store Employee: (Pause) Oh my... wow.
Me: Yeah, I got a little burned at the beach today. Anyway...
Store Employee: That looks pretty painful.
Me: It hurts a little. Anyway, would that be in the seasonal section or skin care section?
Store Employee: (Look of combined intrigue and sympathy) They actually have these little tubes which you can use. I put it near my lips when I got sunburn, but wow, you have it all over. You probably need something bigger...
Me: Right. So where would you carry that?
Store Employee: (Still staring at my sun-scorched face) Oh. I actually don't work in this department. Maybe over there near the suntan lotion?

The big takeaway (besides the fact that Walmart in their fanaticism for low prices staffs far too few people in their stores) is that it's uncomfortable for people to draw attention to their weaknesses. People don't like acknowledging they've stupidly sat on a beach without sunscreen, and they don't like admitting that they have a weight problem, erectile dysfunction or poor complexion. It's related to something called the "look good" idol I heard about in a past sermon, where we like to be in control of people's perceptions of us, both physical and otherwise.

Most of our deficiencies, unlike being sunburned, are things that we can do a fairly effective job at hiding or finessing away. This is both something that relieves us but should also concern us. We don't go to store and ask the clerk for an "arrogance-reduction elixir" or "pornography-addiction therapy" or "anger-management cold-pack" or a "self-centeredness reversal pill". We don't need to air out our sin and interpersonal weaknesses to our friends let alone strangers because they're not as obvious as sunburn and weight gain.

Unfortunately, this leads to these things being unaddressed. And it's not because they're any less harmful to us, it's just that we can hide them, pretend they don't exist or delude ourselves into thinking that we can solve it for ourselves. I think that's where trusted authentic community comes in, a place where a person of faith can come forward with humility to a trusted friend and confess, "I have a problem which might not be obvious and I'd like your help and support to deal with it."

So while the obvious foibles in our lives like sunburn create awkward situations, it's the hidden problems in our lives which are the most dangerous.

The Courage of Conviction and the Cowardice of Intolerance

Two weeks ago, a well-known black sports figure spoke publicly under the looming threat of ridicule, ostracization and condemnation. He wasn't out to be a crusader, but an open question loomed over his head and he felt he needed to answer. He knew that what he would speak of would be rejected and condemned by many, but what was paramount to him was to be sincere and forthright and to let his conscience be his guide. He spoke honestly and he subsequently paid the price.

Yes, ESPN basketball commentator Chris Broussard knew what was coming to him and the vitriol was harsh and unforgiving when he was asked point-blank about how he felt NBA player Jason Collins' gay lifestyle reconciled with Collins' self-professed Christian faith. ESPN was well aware of Broussard's devout Christian faith and stance on homosexuality and probably figured that swatting this hornets' nest couldn't but help ratings. So when asked the question, Broussard stated his belief that a Christian who practices homosexuality is rebelling and sinning against God and predictably, all hell broke loose.

Mainstream media and sports media tore into Broussard as being a bigoted homophobe. Columnists climbed out of the woodwork to rake him over the coals. For example, Deadspin published Why ESPN's Chris Broussard Came Out As A Bigot and The Daily Banter shared ESPN’s Chris Broussard is a Homophobe and a Bigot Whether He Likes it Or Not. This doesn't even account for the vitriol and hatred that Broussard got on message boards, where the name calling went beyond profane and "tolerance" groups calling for his head on a stake.

I'm not saying that it wasn't brave for Jason Collins to "come out" as the first openly gay athlete from one of the major sports league, and I appreciate that it must have been unspeakably difficult to live for so many years sliently and be the first to break their silence around their sexual orientation. But if part of the definition of courage is to face certain tribulation, adversity and ridicule, but still have the fortitude to push forward according to your conscience, I'd have to say that Chris Broussard clearly faced the tougher music. Notwithstanding his fears, Collins received phone calls and tweets and support from President Obama, the First Lady, NBA Commissioner David Stern, superstars Kobe Bryant and LeBron James. Was anyone really surprised?

Conversely, Chris Broussard got skewered and never got a phone call from President Obama for his courage of conviction, albeit unpopular. Again, was anyone really surprised? If we all could reasonably predict the responses of Collins' and Broussard's respective statements, which would you rather go public with given the leanings of the mainstream media and elite from purely a "fear of and approval of man" perspective?

Of course the reaction to Broussard was over the top, and part of this is how effective the radical LGBT lobby has been in manipulating the conversation. As I wrote in a previous post around the Chik-Fil-A controversy:

Part of this playbook is also feeding to media outlets like CNN soundbites of the most heinous outliers (see the Westboro Baptist folk) who say things like "kill the homos" and "incinerate the fags". Why? It accomplishes two purposes: (1) People on the fence react rightfully in horror, and think, "I'm not one of those people. I'm going to support LGBT!" and (2) People who are principled to support biblical marriage wince and instead of articulating their convictions and principles, are too busy disassociating themselves with the Westboro Baptist people. This is their playbook and strategy, and it works really well.

The ironic thing is, Chris Broussard is a Christian man who gets it right. This isn't a Westboro Baptist homophobic lunatic. This is a man who has a friendship with openly gay colleague LZ Granderson and has said, "LZ and I know where each other stand and we respect each other’s right to believe as he does. I know he’s gay, and he knows I believe that’s a sin. I know he thinks I get my moral standards from an outdated, mistranslated book, and he knows I believe he needs to change his lifestyle. Still, we can laugh together, and play ball together. That’s real diversity. Disagreeing but not being disagreeable.”

Yes, you can love your gay friends and co-workers without agreeing with their lifestyle. As Rick Warren said, "Our culture has accepted two huge lies: The first is that if you disagree with someone's lifestyle, you must fear them or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don't have to be compromise convictions to be compassionate." This ideal has failed too many times both by Christians who have failed to love homosexuals and also by homosexuals who have outright refused to be friends those who don't agree with the homosexual aspect of their lives.

Of course, this sort of détente is unacceptable to a surprising many who claim to be proponents of tolerance. Yes, in addition to those folks at Deadspin and The Daily Banter, there are legions of those who go beyond disagreeing with Chris Broussard (which is completely fair game). They are lobbying for his termination, insisting that such people of faith don't belong in the employ of organizations, and his kind ought to be pushed into a closet of obscurity and into the margins of society if not outright criminalized. And as the epithets are being thrown around and mobs being formed to malign an entire segment of people, I can't help but wonder...

Who's intolerant now?

The Blessing and Judgment of Rain

This past Saturday we experienced our first big-time Texas thunderstorm, with heavy sheets of rain pouring down from the vast sky for multiple hours. The skies opened up and the thick streams started to form on the ground and streets, collecting in low lying areas which lacked drainage. I remembered a conversation with a co-worker my first week here, warning me to be mindful of the water-line markers at the pillars on underpasses, which were there to keep unsuspecting motorists from driving into submerged areas, where others had drowned in the past.

We thankfully emerged safe returning from dinner in the middle of the storm, but not before witnessing an underpass en route to home at which cars were slowly either detouring into the oncoming traffic lanes to circumvent deep water or making outright U-turns. Sure enough, the water in this intersection had risen to approximately a foot deep. Like much of the traffic, we followed a group of cars which slowly navigated around the water trap and made our way home.

This wasn't our first rodeo, having recently lived through Hurricane Irene and Hurricane Sandy. But the heavy rain made me reflect about how both rain (like water) is a symbol of life and destruction, and given how much change has occurred in the life of our family in the past four months, I found myself more sensitive to wonder whether there was a deeper symbolism or even a sign around this natural act. Even theologically, it's reasonable to wonder the relationship with our Creator and rain. Consider this quip from Saturday Night Live's "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey":

If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is "Probably because of something you did."

It's good for a laugh - and is probably something that I'd say to one of my kids given my sardonic humor, but a from a biblical perspective, we can see that rain has had the dual purposes from God of both bringing judgement and bringing blessing, as seen in the account of Noah and the flood of judgment in Genesis and other passages which speak of rains causing the lands to yield fruit - and the rain being mercy and provision in the midst of great drought and famine.

But I think there's something that's analogous to rain in this day and age, namely money. Clearly the absence of money brings about great anxiety and the inability to pay for housing, clothing, transportation and other bare necessities leads to much rejoicing when money is found, whether by securing a job or by some another serendipitous means. This is akin to the rains coming in the midst of drought. It's clearly a blessing and the understandable response is praise and thanksgiving.

So how could a windfall of money be destructive? I don't think that's too much of a stretch. In the vein of too much of a good thing is a bad thing, I've seen too many times - even in my own life - where wealth, self-satisfaction and complacency are spiritually destructive and breeds the worse sort of behaviors towards God and others, including pride, greed, arrogance, self-sufficiency and selfishness. The judgment lies in God essentially releasing us to our own desires. It is the sinful heart that instead of humbly submitting "Thy will be done, Lord" insists that "My will be done." And in the same way the loving father released the prodigal son to live recklessly, we may find ourselves with a deluge of riches, yet spiritually bankrupt.

So perhaps the prayer is, as the Lord taught us to pray, that I ask for my daily bread that I might be fed, but not a crumb more that would swell up pride, arrogance or self-sufficiency in my own heart.

A Different World of Evil for Our Children

One of my Facebook friends made an insightful observation when she noted how different our world was compared to thirty years ago, particularly in terms of the types of traumatic tragedies that we experienced from the eyes as children. She contrasted what might be the defining tragedy of our childhood - the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion - and compared that to what our children today have had to grasp to understand: 9/11, the Aurora theater shootings, the Newtown shootings, and now, the Boston Marathon bombings.

I remember the Challenger explosion as a middle schooler, and I'm ashamed to admit that among a lot of us, there was a great deal of intrigue and excitement that was intermingled with any sense of grief. I had heard that in another classroom which was watching the shuttle launch live on television, the explosion was followed by stunned silence broken by one youngster (allegedly Matt Reardon according to schoolyard folkyore) who jumped out of his seat, raised his fist and shouted "Yeah!" He was subsequently disciplined.

But despite our immaturity and the propagation of ghoulish and tasteless jokes (e.g. Q: "What does NASA stand for?" A: "Need another seven astronauts" and Q: "What did Christa McAuliffe say to her husband before she left for the space shuttle?" A: "Remember to feed the dog and I'll feed the fish."), we kids recognized that this event was ultimately a really bad and horrible thing. But it still seemed so distant from impacting us personally that we still were able to maintain a sense of security and invulnerability, and yes, it probably freed us to make those tasteless jokes.

Parents and teachers were asked to talk to kids about that tragedy, and it was usually an angle around how the astronauts were heroes who paid the ultimate sacrifice in serving their country's quest for scientific and technology advancement. The adults talked about about how accidents happen and that most of us need not worry about a similar thing happening in our school bus or our family Honda Accord. They told us that evil corporations like Morton-Thiokol would someday have their comeuppance with the rise of the Occupy Wall Street movement for making faulty solid rocket booster "O-rings" (okay, they never told us that). But there was a theme of "it's terrible, but it'll never happen to you."

Not so with the tragedies of today. Our kids are growing up in a world where movie theaters are being shot up and individuals walk into a elementary school classroom and mow down the students with semi-automatic rifle fire. They are growing up in a world where standing in any crowd of people which nefarious individuals view as a "soft target" could eventually lead to being taken to the hospital or morgue chock full of ball bearings and nails from an improvised explosive device. Now when adults give the same talks to children, there are no more assurances that "it'll never happen to you". That's been replaced with "be careful and be vigilant."

The Facebook friend also followed with a point that I agreed with, and that was, "It's not about guns. It's about our society." The point isn't on the merits of gun control legislation, which is a separate post altogether - for what it's worth, I do think common-sense gun control legislature is something that should be pursued - but rather that the desire to do evil has seemed to have amplified and evolved over the years and that regardless of the mechanism, there's a raging desire to kill and harm without regard for the value of human life. Yes, sin and evil has existed since the time of creation, but there's a certain indifference to human life and dignity intermixed with a pervasive venom which just feels different.

This is why I believe that only the Gospel - applied individually - will ultimately save us collectively. There are lots of good solutions that can and should be pursued, but very few of these deal with the wickedness of the human heart in any sort of sustained way. It cuts to the evil of the human heart and prompts us to confess, "I'm a sinner in need of forgiveness and change, which is impossible without God's grace and power" and it embeds a core of humility of love, a love that is commanded to love your enemies, persecutors and those with whom you disagree. This is the talk I'll have with my kids. And above all it's a message of God's love and care for them, which endures even in a world of unspeakable evil.

A Hunger to Learn

One of the things that I really appreciate about my children is that they embrace learning new things and find great joy in putting into practice that knowledge. Like most young families, there's a great deal of time in the car with parents in the front and kids in the back seats. In the search for squeezing out some quality time in the midst of those car rides, we play a lot of "games".

There are games are typically played during longer car rides, such as the picnic game, when you go around the car and state, "I'm going to a picnic and bringing an (food that begins with the letter 'A')." The next person in car then follows with "I'm going to a picnic and bringing an (the same food time which was mentioned earlier beginning with the letter 'A') and (a new food item beginning with the letter 'B')" It's a great time-killer and insomuch it sharpens our kids' memory skills, or mine, that's a bonus.

Another game that we play in the car is the "question game", where I alternate between Daniel and Sophia (Carissa isn't quite up for many of these games yet) random questions ranging from history, current events, science and math. To me, it's the equivalent of getting them to beg to eat vegetables because I'm pretty much drilling them on key facts and they actually find this fun. Maybe it's not such an odd concept, given quiz shows have always been popular and Jeopardy! has been around forever. Questions that I'll ask might be:

• Name the first three United States Presidents
• What is twelve plus eleven?
• Name three kinds of reptiles
• Name five Disney villains
• Name five types of trees
• What is eight times six?
• Who is the current Vice President of the United States?

It's gotten to the point that they ask me to play this game in the car, which is pretty neat, and they're now making special requests around questions that they want to be asked. For example, Sophia recently was taught by Daniel the concept of multiplication by two, which Daniel explained was taking a number and adding it to itself. So Sophia asked to play "the question game" and asked me to lob a number of "times two" problems, most of which she got correct.

As I think of my children - and I think this might be true for children in general - I find in interesting how eager they are to learn new things, and how they embrace being challenged around these same new topics. It's almost an attitude of "I can learn that" followed by "bring it on!" In contrast, adults often view new things with great suspicion, and react with a mixture of fear, resignation and cynicism. I'm convinced that the axiom, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks" was crafted by an adult as a cop-out refusal and unwillingness to learn and adapt to a new and changing world.

Perhaps this is because as adults, we'd like to believe that we "put in our time" and as people who are no longer children, we can claim intellectual mastery and the status of not needing to learn anything else. Of course this is not true, and if there is a cliché which rings true, it's the one that tells us that the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don't know.

I think this also points to a broader perspective of life and how people deal with change, because any change in life requires tons of new things to learn - I know this first-hand. From making new friends to navigating through a new workplace, church and community to figuring the mundane things around the best place to buy groceries, housewares and gasoline, each day brings new things to learn. I hope like Sophia I can replicate that attitude of "I can learn that" followed by "bring it on!"