Dad’s don’t get a lot of respect in pop culture. They get a national holiday like mothers, but most of the advertised gifts suggest that it’s better to placate dad’s playful side than to honor his sacrificial side. That could be because a lot of men with children don’t actually work for their family, but at least they sometimes play (barbecue, boat, throw the ball, etc.) in a way that lets the kids come along.
Our culture has daddy issues, father hunger, vengeance toward the patriarchy. I’m less interested (today, at least) in chastising those errors and more interested in publicly stating my thanks to God for getting to be a dad.
I had only superficial ideas about fatherhood when I was growing up. Getting married and having kids and needing to do something with those kids seemed like the natural progression of life. What I came to realize later, well into parental practice, is that fatherhood is the glory of a man’s fruitfulness. I didn’t know that dad’s had such a divine purpose or how enjoyable the fruit would be.
We have four kids, going on 16, 13, 10, and 8 later this year. We have three girls and one boy. They are all different, they are all great. I love watching them sing, swim, shoot hoops, write papers, draw, dance, perform, plan, and read. Their mother knows them well and helps me to know them better as well. Being their father is exhausting and exhilarating. But even when one of the kids is second-level fussy or in full-on disobedience, I’m glad to be their dad.
The Ministry of Fatherhood is a gracious and great calling. It’s worth celebrating as a father, not just waiting to be appreciated as one.