A Sermon by Pastor Tom Lacey . . .

a Dad’s words, a dad’s example

1 Kings 2:1-4, Preached at Congregational Church of Boca Raton, June 21, 2009

A father and his small son were out walking one afternoon when the youngster asked how the electricity went through the wires stretched between the telephone poles. "Don't know," said the father. "Never knew much about electricity." A few blocks farther on the boy asked what caused lightning and thunder. "To tell the truth," said the father, "I never exactly understood that myself." A few more blocks, the child looked up at the sky and asked his dad why the sky was blue. “Haven’t got a clue, son,” said dad. The boy continued to ask questions throughout the walk, none of which the father could explain. Finally, as they were nearing home, he asked, "Pop, I hope you don't mind my asking so many questions..." "Of course not," replied the father. "How else are you going to learn?"

Modern medicine has done us many favors. One thing it has done, though, it has taken away what we just heard in our passage: the deathbed scene. Nowadays when somebody is dying, they are hooked up to machines in intensive care, very limited visiting hours, and if they have some moments of coherence, there is someone next to them saying, “Please live, please live.” Once upon a time, people knew that they were mortal and when they were dying, they would hold court in their home. Family and neighbors would come by to say good-bye and perhaps to receive a blessing. The person dying might say, “I would like for you to take care of my chickens;” or to another person, “I forgive you for that terrible thing you did to me;” or to another, “Please forgive me for what I did to you. I have loved you so much.” Solomon is portrayed in this passage as being wise, at least wise enough to listen to his father’s last teaching. As someone said, “Wisdom knows how to say words that matter.”

This is why I like our passage; as a preacher, obviously I believe words matter. As a dad I know words matter. I know good words help, and not such good words don’t. Words have power to bring encouragement or discouragement, motivation or distress, particularly from a father to a child. We have almost unlimited influence on our children, at least for awhile.  

But of course our children also influence us, for better or worse, which reminds me of the dad who was glorying in his perfect ham sandwich one lunch time: A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of his jaw were aching in anticipation as he carried it to the picnic table in his backyard, picked it up with both hands. Of course that was when his wife suddenly stopped at his side. "Hold Olivia, (the six-week-old daughter), while I get my sandwich," she said. I had her balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. And I had no napkin. So I licked it off. It was NOT mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand I did the sort of routine shoeshine guys do—only I did it on my tongue. Later my wife said, "Now you know why they call that mustard ‘Poupon.’”

Proverbs 22:6 says, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” There is no way around it; dads are role models are their children. Like it or not, good or bad, they will, to one degree or another, model their lives after you. We have inherited some of our father’s characteristics, and our children are inheriting some of ours. Faithful or faithless, hardworking or hardly working, happy or morose, angry or easy, they become us, and then they must deal with they have become. The better we are at being dads, the better they are at being themselves. The more faith we have in God, the more faith they have in God. The more humane we are toward others, the more humane they are toward others. How we really live is how they really live. A large family sat around the breakfast table one morning. As the custom, the father returned thanks, blessing God for the food. Immediately after, however, as was his bad habit, he began to grumble about hard times, the poor quality of the food he was forced to eat, the way it was cooked, and much more. His little daughter interrupted him, “Dad, do you suppose God heard what you said a little while ago when you were giving thanks?” “Certainly,” the father replied with the confident air of an instructor. “And then did he hear what you said about the bacon and the coffee?” “Of course,” replied the father with a note of caution in his voice. Then his daughter asked, “Dad, which did God believe?” We are role models. As Proverbs 23:24 says, “The father of the righteous will greatly rejoice, And he who begets a wise son will be glad in him.”

The truth is this is never seen by children as much as in how we treat our children. Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten. Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was turning out very bad. He didn’t know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn’t know how the stove worked. Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And suddenly he saw his Daddy standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon’s eyes. All he’d wanted to do was something good, but he’d made a terrible mess. He was sure big time punishment was coming, maybe even a spanking. But his father just looked at him. Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process.

Now that’s a good dad. Now that’s a good father because ultimately there is something of God in that action. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our relationships get all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can’t stand our job, or our health goes sour, or we make bad choices. Sometimes we just stand there in tears because when we can’t think of anything else to do. That’s when God will pick us up and love us and forgive us.

Just like there are no perfect fathers … there are no perfect children. Don’t expect children to be perfect. Don’t expect them to meet all of your expectations, to fulfill all your goals for them, to be what you want them to be. Too many fathers try to live out their own lives through their children. They want their sons to be the football stars that they could never be. They want their daughters to marry into money and success that they never achieved. Every child is different. They are not our clones. It’s natural for a child to make mistakes, spill their milk, accidentally break things, do poorly on a test, get angry, and even get into some trouble. They’re not perfect, just like we weren’t when we were kids! Accept your children for who they are, whether they are clumsy or athletic, scatterbrained or brainy, shy or a motor-mouth, goofy or sophisticated. Instead of criticizing their imperfections, acknowledge their imperfections and love them. They aren’t perfect; they will never be perfect.

Another things about dads: We are supposed to enjoy our children. No matter what happens, spills, thrills, routine drills—it’s all good; everything is good; it’s all good, especially when compared to not having them at all or them being sick. As Psalm 127:3 says, “Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward.” Children are given to us to enjoy, not to be a burden, not to be avoided. In order to enjoy them, you’ve got to be with them, have fun with them, share your life with them. Forget about any of that, “I spend quality time with my kids.” The quantity of time you spend with them tells them how important they are to you. Enjoy being a father; and make sure that they enjoy having you as their father. Spend some time on the floor with them, giving them horsy rides. Moms just aren’t built for that kind of stuff.  We are the ones who believe taking a risk is worth the possibility of hurt or failure. Quality time means giving them your undivided attention, not with one eye on the TV and the other eye on them. When they have a problem, when they are worried, when they are sad, when they are lonely, they don’t need cartoons, or a video game, or their best friend’s Dad. They need you. But in order to know they are in this situation, get involved with your children, and know what’s going on in their everyday life. If you listen to them when they’re small and their problems are small, then they’ll come to you when they’re bigger and their problems are bigger. As Proverbs 1:5 says, “A wise man will hear and increase in learning.”

Of course there are limits to this. That’s why we need help and guidance ourselves. A pastor received a call from a church that offered him a salary four times what he was then receiving. Being a devout man, he spent much time in prayer trying to discern what God wanted him to do. One day a friend met the pastor’s young son on the street. “Do you know what your dad is going to do?” he asked. “Well,” replied the lad, “Dad’s praying, but Mom’s packing!” A wise dad/husband also listens to his wise wife.

L. A. Parker tells of the time he and his sons went on a weekend trip. They went to the mountains of the beautiful Northwest. It was during the summer and the Parker men were going to be sliding down glaciers and jumping streams. L. A. wanted to get his sons not to be so destination oriented. It was a challenge that was not quite accomplished because they ran up and down the trails at a very quick pace. His son Nate was determined to be the winner. He would shout back to his dad and ask him, "Which way do we go, Dad?" L. A. could only stretch out his arm and point. He says as that simple question hit him it almost buckled his knees with its weight. The question lived out not only between sons and fathers but also daughters and fathers over a lifetime. "Which way do we go, Dad?" L. A. Parker relates the enormity of this task to his sons and himself, but I must relate it to both sons and daughters as do some here. And yet still some must relate it to daughters.

Show your children the right way by enjoying them for who they are; by encouraging them when they falter, teaching them when they are searching, and listening to them when they are talking or not even saying a word.

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