Haunted

 

Hey, Cobblestone Dads,

     Without looking, do you know the last word of the Old Testament? Malachi – whose name means “my messenger” – wrote down what God wanted his people to hear immediately before a four-hundred year period of silence… no more prophets until John the Baptizer. What was the very last one of those words? “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction” (Malachi 4:5-6). The last word of the Old Testament is “destruction.”  

     I hope the Lord isn’t displeased when I admit to being haunted by that passage, the closing words of his message through Malachi. I’m especially haunted by the word “lest,” and the working relationship it sets up between God and his people. An artillery shell, so to speak, has been lobbed. Now, with man-made artillery shells, the trajectory is unchangeable, and the destruction to be wrought is a foregone conclusion. But with “lest,” God leaves open the possibility of a different outcome. That’s where the haunting begins. What are those different outcomes? How would we enter into them? If utter destruction is to be averted – and Scripture indicates it can be – what needs to happen?

     Scripture gives the answer plainly: the turning of fathers’ hearts to their children and the turning of children’s hearts to their fathers.

     In ramping up to Father’s Day and dedicating four weekly letters to the role of fathers in their children’s lives, I run the risk of appearing to diminish the roles of mothers, and of aunts and uncles and the church family. I’ll run that risk. For the sake of driving the point home, I won’t back down from saying, “Hey, dads, from the moment your child is conceived, you are completely irreplaceable.”

     Don’t be misled by Bible translators who do a little too much of the translating for you – who, for the sake of softening the blow of a gender-specific term, choose a less impactful word. In Malachi 4:6, the original Hebrew word for “fathers” is a masculine noun. None of Malachi’s original readers would have mistaken it for “parents.” Dads, we don’t get to dodge this one, or deflect any of the strike.

     That said, what does it mean for a father’s heart to be turned to his children? First of all, it means not being distracted from the dad-mission. Distracted dads are like distracted drivers: they run into stuff and don’t even see it coming. As dads, we need to have one simple question running in our minds: “Where is this child of mine headed?” That question will cause us to look on down the road ahead, assess the threats along with the possibilities, and make the right adjustments… the Lord helping us, of course. A dad’s heart is turned to his children when he longs for their success and fulfillment even more than his own.

     Here’s a fact: distraction comes in limitless forms (which is exactly the point). But God has provided an antidote that is overwhelmingly available to men. Almost every man I’ve ever known – I could count the exceptions on one hand – has had an amazing ability to compartmentalize. Usually, this term carries a negative connotation, claiming that the one who practices it lacks the ability to integrate. Whatever. In men, I call it an aptitude for focus. Keeping the compartments in proper order and proportion determines whether the compartmentalizing is a good thing or not. The marriage compartment isn’t excluded; neither is the job compartment. Even the bass boat compartment can be accommodated, down the list a ways. Dads, lean into your ability to focus.

     And what does it mean for children’s hearts to be turned to their fathers? To keep from complicating the issue even in the least, this second thing is the natural outgrowth of the first.

     I ran a little experiment this week without realizing it in the moment. To put a finer point on it, the Lord led me into a minor revelation – all I did was cooperate, without insisting on knowing exactly what hypothesis we were working on. As we do almost every week, Kay and I gathered with our grown children and their children at our house for dinner. Our youngest grandchild, Selah, is almost six months old, and when it comes to sheer contentment, there’s no place she’d rather be than with her mama – everybody runs a distant second, or further, to Emily. But at one point, I noticed her daddy had been holding her for a good long time and she seemed satisfied enough. Hmm. I’ve always been awkward with infants; maybe this was a chance to gain familiarity and favor with this little one (especially since I wasn’t taking her directly from Mom!). “Can I have you?” I asked.

     Instant fussiness. I looked into her eyes, talked to her. I might even have cooed unintentionally. No good. Then I turned her around the way her daddy had been holding her. That’ll do. We were good for a solid ten minutes… a record in my world. When the women of the family hold her, Selah wants to be bosom-to-bosom. Unwavering eye contact is a big plus. When the women hold her, it’s all about the nurturing. When the men hold her, and especially Dad, she’s good with a cradling arm beneath her and the strength behind her, but she much prefers to encounter the world face- and feet-forward. I took it as an object lesson, and I think the Lord would be pleased to have me pass it along: dads are the critical inch in preparing their children to encounter the world.

     In Malachi 4:6, there’s a fascinating, almost confusing interplay between “will” and “lest” and “utter.” It gives the absolutes “will” and “utter,” with the mitigating “lest” down the middle. Will the Lord’s messenger avert destruction altogether? Will destruction be utterly complete? Do those two extremes define the only two choices? Without getting too wrapped up in definitions and verb tenses, I think the passage can be seen clearly. Scoping out into the nearby context, the Lord says in verses 1 and 2, “For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.”

     Most of the men I know are grateful to have a Go/No-Go gauge when they can have one – a dividing line between success and failure. These two verses establish the line. The arrogant will be left neither root nor branch – utter destruction. But the calves (or offspring) of those who fear the Lord will go leaping from the stall – for them there is healing. And what does it mean to fear the Lord? The best definition I’ve ever heard is: To take the Lord seriously. He means what he says.

     Seems to me the Lord is giving us a peek of what utter destruction could look like. There are daily reminders of aimlessness, hopelessness, frustration, and violence in generations of children who haven’t known a father whose heart was turned toward them. May the trajectory be substantially changed.

     We know there’s a day coming when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (see Philippians 2:10-11). But not every heart will have been changed. Not everyone will have been saved. The decree of utter destruction bears on those who don’t fear the Lord. The extent of the decree’s reach, according to the Lord’s word given through Malachi, has a lot to do with fathers.  

     “Jesus, eldest brother and firstborn in the resurrection of the dead, let the fear of the Lord be made manifest in me and in every man who is raising a child. Let our children be blessed. Let them escape the decree of utter destruction. We gladly receive the Father’s affection – his heart turned to us – making us able to turn our hearts to our children. Our prayers come in the power and authority of your name. Amen.”

 Grace and Peace (from the almighty and everlasting Father),

 

John