WALKING WITH GRANDPA

  

Today my parents came to visit us. It was a really good day. We didn't do anything too out of the ordinary but it still stands to serve as a day that will mark a special place in my memories.

One of the best moments of the day came after lunch. The fellas in the family; my oldest son Ethan, my brother Brian, my father, and myself all went for a stroll outside—in the woods. It was great. Perhaps the best part of the whole affair was the simplicity of it. We just went outside, for a walk, together.

At one point I looked up to see my dad, who has never been an overly affectionate man, holding my three-year-old son's hand. It was touching. Why? Because it was a perfect picture of rare and raw masculinity at work.

My dad is a man's man. He loves the outdoors. He would rather be outdoors than anywhere else you can imagine. He likes all of the kinds of things that the men of his generation enjoy about the outdoors, but mostly he just enjoys experiencing God's creation.

Back to the walk in the woods...

This picture perfect masculine moment came when my dad, a hard working outdoorsman of the rarest kind, used his strength in a way that offered my son protection. It was the simplest of gestures. But it carried so much meaning for me. It was more than my dad holding my son's hand.

It was a multigenerational extension of strength, identity, and initiation—all wrapped up in the protecting hand of a grandfather. Something that is becoming rare in our society today.

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We are no longer at a crossroads in our civilization. No, the crossroads has long since passed, and may indeed no longer even be visible from our rear view mirrors. We missed the turning point. Men stopped being men. Fathers stopped being fathers. A generation grew up with dad's in their homes that were not dad's in any other capacity that mattered—and having lived that way they have believed that fatherhood is optional. My sons' world is a world where the numbers of kids who know their dads is fewer than it has ever been, and the number who know their grandpas is fewer still.

I will be there for my boys. As much as I can be. My dad has always been there for me—and will be a grandpa to my sons. But what will the continuing repercussions be for a society that finds itself lacking grandpas who want to hold their grandsons' hands?

What will the implications be for boys, of all ages, who don't have someone to model strength for them? To tell them who they are? And give them a loving push into manhood?

The answer is all around us. It's in our prisons. It's in our broken sense of honor, justice, and morality. It's found in the depravity that permeates our culture like a dirty poisonous fog. It's death.

Without the guiding embrace of a man, on some level, a boy cannot become a man—and a man cannot truly live.

God walked with Adam in the Garden. He showed him strength, purpose, and identity. He showed him fatherhood. And ever since the Fall we've been fighting to get it back.

Thanks for reading. Let us know your thoughts in the comments.

3:16

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life. John 3:16 The first time I memorized those words I was the lead in my church's Christmas play, and I was just a little kid. It was a fun play. I was really young, but I enjoyed my role. I never forgot those words, but it was only during my teenage years (when the infamous wrestler Steve Austin coined his trademark Austin 3:16) that I realized how well known this verse was. And then a couple of years ago Tim Tebow put the reference in his face paint during the NCAA National Football Championship game. Google reported 92 million searches for John 3:16 during and immeditely following the game.

My point is that this is an incredibly familiar passage. One that has made its way into our culture in a variety of ways over the years. For me, it's a verse that I have read, quoted, written, and heard probably thousands of time in my thirty-plus years, but it wasn't until recently that I actually understood it at all. I mean, people have been telling me for years what it is supposed to mean. I have even told others what it is supposed to mean. I've blogged about it, preached about it, designed t-shirts utilizing it, and broadcast it--but; even though I've been a Christian for over half of my life, it's never really been much more than some evangelical mantra we like to bandy about as we proselytize those around us. It is so much more than that.

I had a good family life growing up, and consider that actuality an incredible blessing knowing that to be more the exception than the rule these days. Because of my home life, grasping the notion of being a son of God, like the Bible teaches, was never much of a stretch for me. It was an easy part of the faith for me to comprehend, believe, and communicate. It's only within the last month, and to a lesser extent the previous nine, that I began to be able understand the Gospel from a Father's perspective.

And that brings me back to John 3:16. This verse we've probably all heard so much. As familiar as it is, it is incredibly challenging, confusing, and wonderful. God loved you and I so much that He gave away His only son. I can tell you right now, I could never do that. It doesn't matter who we are talking about: my best friend, my wife, my mom, brother, students, anyone...everyone. If given a choice to save them and yet condemn my child there is no real choice. My child gets first priority every time.

But God, being infinitely sovereign and immeasurably wise, contrived a means by which He could give up His own son to excruciating torture, so that He might open the way to redemption and restoration for all of His sons...and not only did the one die to save the rest, but the firstborn of all creation rose again through the power of the Father.

I'm going to do the best I can in this life to be the best father that I can be, but only God the Father can give and save at the same time. Incredible.