Text: Mark 4:26-34 New International Version (NIV)
The Parable of the Growing Seed
26 He also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. 27 Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. 28 All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. 29 As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.”
The Parable of the Mustard Seed
30 Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. 32 Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.”
33 With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. 34 He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything.
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
Someone has said that at age four we explain, ”My dad can do anything.” At age 10 we say, ”My dad knows a lot.” By age 12 we’re
saying, ”Oh well, we can’t expect dad to know everything.” At age 14 we say, ”My dad is hopelessly out of date and old-fashioned.” By the time we reach 21 years of age we are saying, ”What should I expect? He just doesn’t understand.” At age 25 we begin to say, ”My dad knows a little bit, but not too much.” By age 30 we say, ”I need to find out what Dad thinks.” At age 40 we ask, ”What would Dad have thought?” By the time we hit 50 we’re saying ”My dad knew everything!” And, at 60 years of age we usually say, ”I wish I could talk it over with Dad just one more time.”[1]
Or, as Mark Twain once wrote in his inimitable way: “”When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”[2]
Yes, here we are again: It’s Father’s Day. And this year, just like last year, and the year before that (etc.), I felt a little awkward when preparing this sermon – extolling the virtues of fathers seemed just a bit self-serving, since I am one myself.
Then it occurred to me that I really needed to get over it, because it truly is right, fitting, and proper to talk about fathers.
But what does it mean to be a father?
If you do a Google search on that question, you will get maybe tens of millions of hits (no, I didn’t read each one). And as you might expect, the descriptions of what a father is run the gamut from Sir Galahad to Homer Simpson.
Many of these descriptions try to make the distinction between the words “father” and “dad” – namely, that it’s easy to be a father, but not so easy to be a dad. I recall even quoting a little German poem a few Father’s Days ago that goes like this:
Vater werden ist nicht schwer
Vater sein, dagegen, sehr.
(Roughly translated: “To become a father is not hard; to be a father, however, is very [hard].”)
I get what the intent is – becoming a father is one thing, but to be a dad, there has to be an intentionality, a commitment, a sense of responsibility, not to mention a great deal of love.
“Uh-oh,” you might be thinking, “he’s used the ‘R-Word”. He’s lowering the boom on us.”
Well, I’m really not lowering the boom on us at all, brothers. If anything, today I’m truly “preaching to the choir.” All of you fathers here today have absolutely stepped up to the plate and done phenomenal jobs. You have all been there for your kids, through thick and thin, and you have done your level best to provide for them, care for them, keep them safe, and so much more. When you consider that, on any given night, 24 million children in this country will go to bed in a home without a father, you see what I mean.[3] Pat yourselves on the back!
No matter which term you choose, being a father/dad is not a burden. It is a privilege. It is a joy. It fulfills us. Remember this scene from “The Godfather”?
Don Vito Corleone (to his son, Sonny):
“Do you spend time with your family?”
Sonny:
“Sure I do, Pop.”
Don Vito:
“That’s good, because a man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
I truly believe that. And I know that all of you fathers do, too, because I’ve seen most of you in action.
So, again, what does it mean, really, to be a father in this day and age? Based on my experience with our brave new world, there’s no “Father’s Manual” out there, or if there is, I’ve never seen it. All my friends who are fathers seem, just like me, to be making it up as they go along. Where, for example, does nurturing need to give way to the firm hand of discipline? And just how far should discipline go? Many have taken Proverbs 13:24, from which we get the time-worn wisdom “spare the rod, spoil the child” ‘way too far. But where’s the “happy medium”? How much autonomy should the child be granted? Even when your kids are older – when they are adults and have left home – what are your responsibilities as a parent? Because, after all, they’re your kids, no matter whether they’re 3 or 30. For us dads, it’s still sometimes a twisting path through the brambles.
But it’s a journey, a quest if you will, that’s supremely worth the efforts. We Dads do have more than one important role to play in the lives of our children, and “dadding isn’t easy,” as Emma Diab writes in her blog post “The Hardest Thing About Raising Children According to Fathers” on the Thrillist website. Here are a few of the items from her list:
“Waking up to an empty house.
“It’s hard when they grow up and move away. You want them around you, to watch them succeed, help them when they fail, and just enjoy life with them and your grandchildren.” – Louis, 85
“I think the hardest thing about being a dad is slowly loosening the control grip, and letting him begin to make more decisions on his own and watching him become his own person. We look at our kids and think, “How will they ever do life on their own without us?” We want to be needed. We want to be involved. So the realization that they need us less and less is bittersweet.” – Chester, 44
I really resonate with this one: “The realization that small, defenseless people are depending on you to keep them alive.
“How many times can the kid fall over and hurt himself while learning how to ride a bike before you feel like a terrible father? Does the doctor need to take that much blood from a 5-year-old during a checkup? Because it feels like a lot of blood. Dads just want to make sure their kid is ok without being really weird and suffocating about it, but it’s hard to deal with thoughts like that.
“I think the hardest thing is when they get sick. You come home from work and then stay up all night trying to bring the kid’s fever down, trying to figure out what to do to help them before you can take them to the doctor. I feel pretty lost, when they get sick.” Paul, 41
“All of your time from now until forever is accounted for. Every hour of your life in one way or another is dedicated to making your child a better person, making yourself a better person to be a better role model for your child, making your relationship better for your child. Never mind the practical considerations of less sleep, less leisure time, less time to do anything you might have possibly thought of as a bucket list. In the same way that your life is no longer really your own, your time is no longer really your own either.” – Jesse, 32
“Coming to terms with the constant, crushing anxiety.
“At first I thought it was the sleepless nights, midnight feedings, and diaper changes. Later I thought it was helping with homework, teaching them to ride bikes, and boyfriend advice. But I’ve come to realize that the hardest thing about being a father is worry. Worrying if they will find a career that they will enjoy and prosper at. Worrying if they will find a man someday who will treat them with love & respect. But mostly just worrying if they will be healthy & happy in their adult lives.” – Mark, 60
Wrangling your existential thoughts about life as they apply to your kid
There are some days you’ll feel like you don’t deserve that #1 Dad mug. You’ll have dark irrational thoughts where you chastise yourself for spending so much time watching HBO instead of like, spelunking or volunteering at a shelter for one-legged puppies because for some reason you feel as though that would have made you a better role model or something. Every Dad wants his children to succeed (except John Lennon) and you start to wonder “Did I impart on my kids the life skills they needed to be independent decision makers? Should I tell my kid to follow her dreams, or are her dreams actually really stupid and it’s up to me to tell her? What if I’m wrong?”[4]
Since my son was born, there’s only one prayer that I have prayed consistently and constantly. It’s very short, and goes like this: “God, please keep our children safe.” It’s been extended over the years to include, first our daughter, then nephews and nieces, kids from Sonshine, kids from St. John’s, and is now pretty much focused on our granddaughter, Chloe. I pray it a lot. We dads, we guardians of the brood, can’t be everywhere – so we have to entrust our kids to the gracious hand of God.
But, remember, all of these things, though troubling and nerve-wracking at times, are part of the greatest gift any man can receive: The gift of children. Now, mind you, this gift does not necessarily have a biological component – there have been other men in my own life who have been important to me (not as important as my own Dad or Granddad, but very important nonetheless), and I’d be willing to bet that there have been men like that in the lives of all of you fathers, too. Any man who takes the time to give of himself to a child takes on the mantle and deserves the respect of a father; or, as Abe Lincoln put it: “No man is so tall as when he stoops to help a child.”
John Donne’s sentiment that “No man is an island entire of itself” is nowhere more true than as it pertains to fathers – our children are part of us, and we are part of them. And that is as it should be. Finally, there are two other components to fatherhood that form the foundation of every relationship a father has with his children – love and faith. It might seem as though love is a given – but it’s really not. We read horror stories every now and then about fathers abandoning their families, or hurting their children, so we know that not every father lives up to the title. But the good news is that most of us try our best to do so. No father is perfect; we all fall short of our expectations and goals for ourselves; but hopefully, when all is said and done, we hit the mark more often than we miss it. And the motivation for our attempts is the love we have for our kids. For those of us who are Christian fathers, the fuel that keeps us running is the faith we have in our heavenly Father – the One who gave us Jesus, his Son, that the world might have a fighting chance to become what God has in mind for it to be. So today, Dads, relax! Bask in the adulation! Accept the compliments of the day! And remember that you reflect, no matter how dimly, no matter how imperfectly, the overwhelming grace of God the Father in heaven! God bless you all, fellow Dads!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Perdue, Jim, “How to Be a Fabulous Father,” https://www.sermonsearch.com/sermon-outlines/103618/how-to-be-a-fabulous-father/
[2] Twain, Mark, quoted in Goldman, Jeremy, “Celebrating Fathers: 19 Powerful Quotes,” https://www.inc.com/jeremy-goldman/celebrating-fathers-19-powerful-quotes.html
[3] https://www.fatherhood.org/fatherhood-data-statistics
[4] https://www.thrillist.com/lifestyle/nation/the-hardest-thing-about-raising-children-according-to-fathers