My son is almost 26 now. He used to be kind of small, but he started working out and bulked up quite impressively. Oh, and I work out too.
I lift about 250 pounds. Out of bed each morning.
When I was joking with him about his new workout routine, his response stung a bit.
“At least I’m not sporting that ‘dad bod’ of yours. Man, you’re soft!”
Despite what my studly son may think, I’m actually pretty proud of being a dad. In fact, you could say I consider it a Godly calling.
Yeah, I know fatherhood has gotten a bad reputation as of late. It seems like society has focused its attention on the men who’ve used their power to abuse the weak and ignored those who use power to protect. We’re lectured constantly on “toxic masculinity”, at least until a situation or emergency arises where someone actually needs a man. Then we’re expected to hop back into action.
Also, to encourage single mothers, who are incredible heroes, some influencers have overcompensated. They’ve given the impression fathers are optional and mostly replaceable.
I beg to differ.
I greatly respect women, especially those who’ve filled in the gaps left by an irresponsible or abusive man. While I applaud the many mothers who’ve made it alone, I still say every child would be better off having a loving father present alongside that mom.
Even though that can’t be the reality for everyone doesn’t change the fact it is still the ideal.
Sorry, but we are all not merely generic Mr & Mrs Potato Heads with interchangeable parts. Science tells us men’s brains function differently than women’s do (and yes, ladies, they do actually function on occasion). The way we approach relationships is different than women. Just ask our kids. When we are hurt or experience failure, our response is often in sharp contrast to that of most women. And check out the contrast in suicide rates as well.
Right now, we have a 6-year-old foster boy living with us in our home. He has been separated from his family for his safety. Though he has never really known his father, the mom and grandmother have always been there. His life is uncertain, and he exhibits a frustrated anger at times stemming from the chaos in his life.
Who has he become attached to during his stay in our home? Me, no contest. He clings to me constantly. He wants to sit next to me at every opportunity. This is despite the fact he likes sports and I couldn’t throw a football properly if my life depended on it.
Why such a strong attachment to me? Because in his time of chaos, he’s attracted to someone who is not only kind but strong. He begs me to pick him up constantly and insists I carry him to bed in my arms. He knows he can get kindness from women, but he wants a man to be his protector.
Also, he clings to me because the gap left by a father cannot adequately be filled by all his relationships with women. As a boy, he instinctively wants a male role model. He wants to see the target he’s shooting for. This is surprising, since some of the other men in his life have done truly horrible things to him. But those experiences have not quenched his thirst for a truly loving father.
This combination of strength with lovingkindness is why Jesus told his disciples when they pray, to call God “our Father…”
No, I don’t believe He was implying God is a sexual being. In the Gospel of John, Jesus said God is “spirit”, and a spirit doesn’t have sexual organs. And I agree there are plenty of things about God’s love that reflect a mother’s nurturing qualities.
But when expressing Himself to humans, He didn’t say to think of Him as Mother Earth or even “the man upstairs”. No, He said, “Call me daddy”. If He said to use that moniker for Him every time we pray, that wasn’t a random choice.
When we think of a mother’s love, we tend to think of nurturing. That doesn’t mean a woman can’t be tough. Just watch how any woman deals with a cold as compared to her husband. A cold puts me in bed all day, while my wife often keeps working like it’s no big deal.
What I’ve noticed about a mother’s love is it wants to nurture a child and keep it from any potential dangers. But a father’s love, while still protective, is tougher. He loves his kids but wants them to face up to the world’s challenges and overcome them.
In that way, a father’s love is more like a coach than a nurse.
I’ve seen mothers run out the front door ready to fight the neighborhood bully who threatens her little boy. That’s fun to watch, and also a bit scary. However, it’s often the father who instead will encourage his son to stand up to the bully. A good father would never let the boys go too far, but he might let a few fists fly before he stepped in to stop it.
What’s the difference? The father understands courage is a necessary part of the maturing process. Some mothers might be content if the boy always remained a child (how often has my wife said that about our kids). But the father is determined to help the boy stand on his own two feet and face his adversaries.
That father knows the world will be knocking the boy down when Dad’s not around. So his main goal is to coach the son to face opposition with confidence and courage.
Like any analogy, things get ridiculous when you take it to the extreme. God’s not a male, and a mother’s love is in no way inferior to a father’s. But God knew when we faced trials in life, we needed to see Him not only as loving us but also as challenging us to mature.
We need a God who gets angry at injustice and will fight for us.
We need a warrior watching over us so we can sleep in confident peace out of danger.
We need a father, but not just any father. We need a good Father.
I grieve for the little guy in our home now. He’s seen things in his 6 years I didn’t know existed until after I was an adult. I grieve for the wound that will remain long after he’s forgotten the faces of his abusers. That “father wound” will cause him to question his worth and whether he’s deserving of love.
And all the while, his one true Father looks on, watching and waiting. He waits for someone to explain who He really is. He wants us to know how His love is completely different from some of the sick, twisted men we’ve known.
Most every day, I see people, both male and female, whose anger and insecurities betray the presence of a father’s wound. They desperately long for the gentle touch of a strong hand they can trust to never abuse them.
They wait to experience that rush of joy as they’re lifted into His arms in one swift powerful motion of celebration.
They wait to sit in His lap with arms wrapped around them, with no fear of ulterior motives.
Most of the world wishes their whole life for that kind of father. Meanwhile, their one true Father waits and watches for them too. He hopes to see them one day off in the distance as they return and walk toward him.
And just like a good father, He’s left the porch light on so they can find their way back home.
