Tonight I’ll be sharing my story with some of our college students. As most of you are probably aware, my story has been indelibly shaped by the deaths of my parents. I’m finally at a place where I can honor God in the telling of my story. Naturally, in light of tonight, I’ve been thinking about my father this afternoon. I’ve often said my Dad is the only hero I’ve ever had. Growing up, there was no one I emulated more than my father. I still remember the way he laughed at a joke, the way he spit out his toothpaste, the way he sat while watching TV…all these things I absorbed…I wanted to do these things the way he did them. If he thought something was funny, so did I. If something upset him, then it upset me, too. He seemed to me an otherworldly figure; there was nothing he didn’t know, nothing he couldn’t do. He was my Dad. He was my hero.
These days, I have a son of my own. And at times, I look at him and I think, “Son, I really wish you had an adult for a father.” I remember being a senior in high school and thinking to myself, “I’m not big enough to be a senior.” When I was in junior high, the seniors were these huge, mammoth guys with stubble. As a senior, I weighed 140 lbs soaking wet. Not quite the giant I expected to be. I sometimes feel the same way as a parent. I catch myself thinking, “I’m not big enough to be a parent.” I compare myself to my father and I don’t think I resemble him at all. There’s very little I know, very little I can do.
But when my Joshua looks at me, I recognize his expression. It’s the look of one enamored. I’m his Dad; I’m his hero. And I realize the depth of his love for me and I’m humbled. My dear son, how could you teach me so much?
Lord, may my son see more of You and less of me. May I be the kind of man you want, the kind of hero he needs. Grant us your grace, dear Father….
already & not yet 