Sixty-one years later, President Richard Nixon signed a bill into law making Father’s Day a national holiday.
Calendar ah aom loh hangin laisiangtho ah om “‘Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you'” (Exodus 20:12).
It is a command with promise.
4 Years: My daddy can do anything.
7 Years: My dad knows a lot, a whole lot.
8 Years: My father doesn’t quite know everything.
12 Years: Oh well, naturally Father doesn’t know everything.
14 Years: Father? Hopelessly old-fashioned.
21 Years: Oh that man is out of date. What did you expect?
25 Years: He knows a little bit about it, but not much.
30 Years: Must find out what Dad thinks about it.
35 Years: A little patience, let’s get Dad’s meaning first.
50 Years: What would Dad have thought about it?
60 Years: My dad knew literally everything.
65 Years: I wish I could talk it over with Dad once more.
Sociologist Michael S. Kimmel, writing in the June, 1986, issue of Psychology Today, states:
we see fathers as safe and nurturing
Most men feel that their fathers lack the emotional strength to tolerate openness with their sons. It’s a man’s world. It’s a world of work, solitary pursuits and isolation.
One day Jesus told a story that is probably the most appreciated story in the entire Bible. It has come to be known as the “Parable of the Prodigal Son.” We find it recorded in Luke 15:11-32.
I. The model father teaches the truth from infancy up.
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. And you shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates” (Deuteronomy 6:4-9).
As we live under His authority, what we teach our children about the ways of God takes on more existential relevance to them. If I teach them one mode of conduct and live under a different mode myself, they will see the hypocrisy of it all. I must live under the teaching and the discipline of God, even as I endeavor to faithfully teach and discipline my children.
It was not unusual for a Jewish father to distribute his estate before he died if he wished to retire from the actual management of his business affairs. Under the law, there was a clear delineation of his financial responsibilities. The father could have said no. He could have tried to blackmail him, telling him how much more he would have in the long run if he stayed around home. He could have played the comparison game, saying, “Why aren’t you a good son like your older brother? What are you trying to do, break your mother’s heart?” You know those little games we play!
No, this father was prepared to stand by the teachings and the humble modelings that he and his wife had shared from the infancy of these two boys.
He wasn’t perfect. He knew that God, in His creative design, had not made human persons robots, automatons, who function as mechanical men and women. To be created human was to have freedom to obey or to disobey. This model father had respect for the individual autonomy of each of his sons. So, without preaching a doomsday sermon, he divided his estate. He gave his son what he wanted, and he bid him farewell.
III. The model father won’t stand in the way of consequences.
No, the model father won’t stand in the way of consequences. He is not in the business of premature rescue. As much as his heart is breaking, and he knows that there is trouble ahead, he lets go.
I ask you and I ask myself: Is this the kind of father, is this the kind of mother we are? Are we willing to faithfully teach and model? Do we respect the autonomy of our children as they come of age? Are we willing to let them walk away from us, no longer nurtured and controlled by us, but free to live in a tough, hard world unprotected?
The reality is we haven’t got much choice. If we don’t let them go, they are going to rebel anyway, aren’t they? How much better to take the initiative and say, “Hey, this is your life. I’ve done the best I can. It hasn’t been that good at some points. With a big hug and perhaps a few tears, we are prepared to send them off to seek their own fortune, to face whatever may be the consequences-positive, negative, or in between.
We may have caused some of the rebellion. If so, we need to make our overtures. Perhaps a phone call or a letter that says, “I’m sorry. Forgive me for what I said. I love you. I want a restored relationship with you.” Somehow, I am never able to rid myself of the picture of that father who, as he worked his field, was constantly scanning the horizon. Jesus alerts us of that fact. For He says, “But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20). His was a love that refused to give up.
What would your reaction be if your child did to you what the prodigal did to his father? Being a preacher, I have a sneaking suspicion that I would probably have written a sermon titled, “I Told You So!” He runs, embraces his son, kisses him. Thuak in mawhna maisak na gah
The son gives the speech he has carefully prepared, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Luke 15:18).
He doesn’t even give his son a chance to ask to be a servant. He calls for the best robe. In the Hebrew tradition, that robe stands for honor. He calls for a ring. The ring stands for authority. If a man gave another his signet ring, it was the same as giving him power of attorney. He calls for shoes. The shoes stand for a son as opposed to a slave. The children of the family wore shoes. Often the slaves didn’t. The slaves dream, in the black spiritual, of a time when, “All God’s chillun got shoes.” Shoes were the sign of freedom. He calls for a banquet, a feast to make merry, “for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:24).
Our final reward isn’t the privilege of sitting back and saying, “Wasn’t I a good father?” Granted, we’ll have some joys that come from the hoped-for friendship with our children. But the final reward will be when the real model father, God himself, looks us in the eye and says, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into your eternal rest.”