So . . . being a Dad.  What's that all about?

There are times when I don't want to be "Dad."  At times, I'd rather be "Father."  Has an old-school ring to it.  It conjures up of the paternal authority figure, aloof yet faithful.  "Father" provides for his family, "Father" ensures proper behavior from his children.  "Father" loves his children, but from a distance.  He takes pride in their accomplishments, as long as those accomplishments aren't too childish.  Children should be seen and not heard, after all.

I'd like to be "Father," except that I don't think that's quite the best tactic.  Maybe "Daddy" is better.  "Daddy" has tea parties with little girls.  "Daddy" kisses boo-boos and chases away spiders.  "Daddy" is a sweet-natured, lovey-wovey, slightly goofy kind of guy that would never, ever raise his voice, who always knows how to put a smile on little faces, who couldn't bring himself to any sort of discipline stronger than an indulgent frown.

But see, that's not really my style, either.  I know it's my own failure, but sometimes I get grumpy.  I like to play with the kids at times, other times I need to make sure they're toeing the line.  Sometimes indulgent, sometimes strict.  And when I'm in my best form, I strive to understand the why of disobedience and even allow for some disagreement and discussion.

I think I'm best at just plain "Dad."  A dad that tries to be good at what he needs, who tries to cover the spectrum from nurturing love to the guy who's always thinking not just about the behavior of a five-year-old, but what direction that behavior and mind is going to need to take to be a solid and respectable 25-year-old . . . or even a respectable and solid 65-year-old.

That goal of "Dad," though, that's something I miss.  Perhaps too often.  Maybe it's too tall of an order, or maybe it's just that large of a responsibility that the likes of a sinful man like me can't always attain to perfection at it.  But I believe whole-heartedly that's also a significant part of being "Dad": to confess to my children when I've done it wrong and being willing to ask for their forgiveness.  That's something that "Father" would never do, and something that might never occur to "Daddy."

But I'm not just "Dad," I'm a Christian dad.  And no less than Martin Luther his own self once said, "The entire Christian life is one of repentance."  Repentance demonstrates a significant truth, that none of us is perfect, and that we trust in the mercy and grace of the only One who is perfect to forgive, cover, and heal when we inevitably step over the line.

And perhaps that's the best kind of dad to be:  the kind that shows his children through his life of repentance that he is trusting Christ to cover him, and that he is trusting Christ to cover his children throughout the whole of their lives, as well.  The kind of dad that lives in and by and through the mercy of Christ and invites his children to join him in the Christian life of repentance.


- He Said