Rom 8:38,39 To Be A Dad
A man with 314 employees had driven and criticized and condemned them without restraint or discretion. Words of kindness, appreciation and encouragement were alien to his lips. Then he came across a course that radically changed his philosophy of life. As a result, 314 enemies have become his friends, and a new spirit of loyalty, enthusiasm, and teamwork characterizes his business.
He says, “When I used to walk through my establishment, no one greeted me. My employees actually looked the other way when they saw me approaching. But now, they are all my friends, and even the janitor calls me by my first name.”
The company became much more productive, and rather than dreading going to work, the employees now look forward to it. There is no more sabotage, and only minor dissension because each one feels part of a family.
What was it that changed this business so completely? It was learning and using the principles of getting along with people that Dale Carnegie first discovered and wrote about in his 1937 book, How To Win Friends And Influence People.
His first principle is explained in a chapter entitled, “If you want to gather honey, don’t kick over the beehive.” Can you imagine what principle one is from that picturesque title? This story makes it plain:
Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.
These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.
At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Good-bye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"
Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your socks. I humiliated you before your friends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Socks were expensive, and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!
Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in, timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.
You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither...and then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, reprimanding--this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. It was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.
And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of yours was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me goodnight. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt here, ashamed!
It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy. I will chum with you, suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual, "He is nothing but a boy, a little boy!"
I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your bed, I see that you are still a little boy. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.
Probably most of us fathers can identify with this classic writing. It might have been written yesterday by some of us, or twenty, or even fifty, years ago by others, because it is a universal problem, but this piece was actually written in the 1920’s by W. Livingston Larned. It was titled, “Father Forgets”, and demonstrates the truth that you will always find what you’re looking for. If you’re looking for trouble, mistakes, or discrepancies, you will find them just as surely as you will find beauty, joy, and love, if that’s your agenda.
Amy once asked me to check her room after she had cleaned it. As she stood there, beaming, because she had done it without being asked, I congratulated her, but, as I did so, I reached down and straightened the pillow on her bed. What did that say to her? Nothing you ever do is good enough. Oh, once isn’t too bad, but when it becomes a pattern, it cuts the heart right out of trying, and often turns a person sour.
You’ve probably seen the little poem, ‘If a Child Lives with Criticism’, by Dorothy Nolte
If a child lives with criticism,
He learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility,
He learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule,
He learns to be shy.
If a child lives with shame,
He learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with criticism, he learns to believe that he’s defective. I’m not saying never correct a child, or anyone else for that matter, but do it in love, and always find three positive things to compliment for each negative that you have to use. Of course, that’s the hardest part. You probably weren’t raised that way, but consider how much better it would have been if you were. You’d likely have a better outlook on life today.
I know I would.
I straightened the pillow because I was an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist who tried for twelve years to get my dad to notice me. When doing my best didn’t work, I went off the deep end and became a motorcycle hoodlum—doing my worst, as it were. That didn’t work, either, so I pretended I didn’t care; but inside, I was screaming out, “I’m here, Dad. Notice me!” I’d rather be wanted for murder than not to be wanted at all.
The four things that I did with my dad, stand out like Mt Everest in my memory. I can tell you immense detail of those four times we spent together, and one of them was 54 years ago.
The picture of God as Father is a good one because we all need a father who loves us, and God is love. Even if your natural dad never loved you, or was unable to show it, as I suspect mine was, your Heavenly Father loves you endlessly. As a matter of fact, nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate you from the love of your Father, God as Paul tells us in Romans 8:38,39 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. WOW!! Do you feel loved? You should!
But does that mean He condones your sin? Not for a minute, but He still loves you, unconditionally—not if you clean your room, or take out the garbage, but unconditionally —simply because you’re His child. Why do you suppose God is called our Father? Because He is the model for all fathers. He wants us to strive to be like Him; He even sends the Holy Spirit to help us.
Well, what’s He like? Jesus told Philip, “He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father.” (Jn 14:9) What was Jesus like, then? Well, He ate and drank with the publicans—the corrupt tax collectors—nobody else would. He spent time with prostitutes and lepers. He spent a lot of time around the docks—the rough part of town. He healed and helped everywhere He went. He cast demons out of some pretty rough people. He loved them all, and they knew it. That’s why they followed Him by the thousands.
Was He never critical or negative? Of course He was, but with whom? Only those who thought they didn’t need it—the church leaders—the preachers, the deacons of the day. Didn’t He love them? He sure did, but He was disgusted with the way they treated others, and He told them so. The scriptures say He was so gentle, He wouldn’t even snuff out a smouldering wick, or break a bent reed, but He stood up for the underdog. Instead of criticizing, He emphasized the right way to do things. He delighted in catching people doing good things, and praising them for it, like the woman who put two pennies in the offering. Some might have scoffed, but Jesus knew that that was all she had, and He praised her for it. The smile of approval Jesus gave Zaccheus caused him to return thousands of dollars he had swindled.
Dads, grand-dads, does that sound too difficult? Remember these precious kids aren’t adults yet, but they’ll be better adults if we catch them doing good and emphasize that, rather than finding fault. AND IT”S NEVER TOO LATE!! I’ve been working at finding the good my grown kids are doing, and complimenting them on it. They still respond; they still beam, knowing that I’ve noticed. Try it. You’ll like the results. And may God help us.
