Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day, which is naturally making me consider what it means to be a dad. I’m reminded of my life before Logan was born. There was a sense of freedom and possibility, as though I could do anything I wanted without having somebody else suffer the repercussions of my decisions. I was, in a sense, autonomous.

Autonomy is a virtue in our culture. Some people call it liberty, identity, or just plainly personal responsibility. Regardless, we worship at the altar of the autonomy, as we lift up and edify the individual. There are many reasons why we do this. It helps drive our economy as we constantly increase our possessions without worrying about the effect of what our purchases might have on society at large. We are constantly consuming goods and services without recourse. We also live in a pluralistic country, which means that there are multiple people groups and cultures present within the borders of our country. The constant focus on the individual makes a very difficult situation more navigable, as individuals no longer need to deal or cooperate with the larger world. But I think that the main reason why we venerate the individual is that it feeds our egos and pride.

Ego can never exhibit the fruit of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). These traits, possibly with the exception of self-control, are all outward facing traits (though I would argue that Paul’s definition of self-control here is focused on how we treat others, not how we can sit still long enough to get our homework done or something like that), meaning that they place the way that we treat each other in the center of a life lived through the Holy Spirit. Becoming a dad reminded me that there are greater things than liberty.

Being responsible for another life is a blessing, one that our society doesn’t value much. And though I do not think that somebody needs to become a parent to realize this, it’s what finally started me on a path toward thinking about myself less and others more. This is a journey that requires gradual progress. We do not wake up one day with an overwhelming ability to love. Rather, we continually learn to extend ourselves beyond where we currently are. This calling is never fully achievable, but ideally we each learn how to do this more and more as we age. It’s a process and an act of following Jesus. Discipleship ends the moment that we think we’ve arrived.

I don’t know if this saying originated somewhere else, but I love this quote from Bishop Robert Barron: “Your life is not about you.” Most Christians that I know would agree to this statement on principle. However, I see precious few live it. Instead, I see too many of us compromise for individual rights or personal identity rather than anything resembling a life that would be self-sacrificial. At times, I make the same mistakes. I become proud and can say mean, spiteful things. I can lose my temper, and I don’t hold my tongue. However, the miracle of redemption is that I do not need to hide those things. As somebody who’s already loved by the divine, I can be honest about the wrong that I’ve committed without fear of condemnation. It’s love that transforms us, not shame. The truth is that I’m not a perfect dad (though I do think that I’m a good one), and I’m going to make mistakes. When I do, I make sure to apologize to my family. When I bring discord into our home, it affects everybody. Oftentimes, I want to be perfect and without fault, but I’m reminded that the life of a Christian is not marked by virtue; it’s marked by love. We do not find God in our self-righteousness but in our repentance.

This Father’s Day, I’m reminded that some of us have wounds from our dads, and undoubtedly I will create insecurities and fears within my son. I do not mean to do this; few dads mean to emotionally harm their children. But unfortunately, I’m imperfect. The point isn’t that I get it right the first time—that would be impossible and a desire to strive for that would cultivate an environment of legalism, not only for myself but everybody around me. Rather, it’s my hope that I show my son what it means to be sacrificial and then to fail, trust in God’s grace, repent, and work to repair any damage that has been done. And somedays it’s possible that I get it right. That’s a grace as well.

One last thought before I end: I know that there are dads out there who have really hurt their children, either through abandonment, abuse, neglect, or countless other evils. If you were profoundly scarred by your father, I’m sorry. Our parents have deep and lasting impact on our lives. It’s my hope that you know you are not only love-able but loved. May that truth resonate on a day that may be difficult for you.