Wednesday, November 30, 2022

Faith Does, Part 3: Slaying the Dragon.

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I wonder if Jesus ever felt like a screw-up. Don’t imagine I blaspheme; the Bible itself says he has been tempted in every way, just as we are (Hebrews 4:15) – so it’s possible he was tempted, just as we are, to think he had messed up at times.

     When a man fathers a child, he’s headed into a long series of opportunities, large and small, to mess up. Most of these he will take full advantage of. Don’t imagine I exaggerate; just take a look around. (And, as the T-shirt says, “Been There – Done That.”) In the best of circumstances, a dad will learn at least something from his mistakes, and not make the same ones more than a few dozen times apiece. In anything less than best, he’ll start to wonder if he’ll ever be able to do fatherhood right. And if a man launches into fatherhood with a history of mostly mess-ups, he will quickly give up.

     After a week’s diversion, the “Faith Does” series is resuming, urging us to practice religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father (James 1:27) – to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep (ourselves) unstained from the world. The series would be incomplete if we didn’t address the topic of fatherhood, and what happens if “being dad” is done poorly – or goes undone – for long periods of time. Because, in serving “functional” orphans and widows – meaning anyone who’s suffering under most of the same disadvantages as actual orphans and widows – the best way to ease the affliction is to encourage dads to get back on track.

     Henry David Thoreau was famous for his observations on nature. But his most quoted observation was on a particularly human condition: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” The mass of men knew this long before Henry came along. We know it still. Leading a life of quiet desperation involves staying one step ahead of regret – or not. The survivors stay engaged, battling always to slay the dragon. The victims get eaten by it. At any given time, a dad might not know which side of the fight he’s on.

     As people of God, we are destined to be victors, not victims; and given the ministry of reconciliation (2Corinthians 5:19), our mission is to draw others into victor status, under the banner of the one who was without sin, yet was made sin for us, that in him we might become the righteousness of God (verse 21). At the moment, I’m looking into two programs that would help us – yes, little ol’ Cobblestone – encourage dads who’ve been eaten by the dragon of regrets, to get them back into the fight against desperation. I’m still scouting, and there are plenty of arrangements yet to be made, but I haven’t found a no-go up to this point. Please pray that our church can merge with these couple other organizations to provide a seamless, Holy Spirit-guided ministry to men who have initiated “problem” or “unwanted” pregnancies, whose children will otherwise be functional orphans.

     The idea, in a nutshell, is to live out the gospel of Jesus in the presence of, and in close proximity to, two categories of fathers: expectant dads and estranged dads. In the programs I’m looking into, expectant dads are the men, usually very young, who have found themselves the biological father of a child, but outside the usual structures of responsibility; estranged dads are men who’ve done something to take themselves, at least temporarily, out of the possibility of directly being a father to their children. Expectant dads are probably waiting in the car outside the pregnancy care center; estranged dads are probably wearing an orange jump suit. Men in both categories may already be two or three generations deep in fatherlessness themselves, convinced there’s no hope or encouragement to be found. We’re out to change that notion.

     There’s a calling on us, Cobblestone, to be an agent of hope in fatherhood – I’m convinced of it. I haven’t figured out yet why the Lord would put such a calling on us (not sure I need to), but I’m sure he wants us to move outward with everything he’s equipped us with up until now – and trust him to provide whatever it takes to do what we haven’t foreseen. Not all of us will be at the point of contact; most of us will pray and observe from some distance. But I’ll be asking some of you to step into situations you wouldn’t ordinarily step into. Some of you will go to jail, I hope. And there will be scenarios the Lord has yet to reveal. The clearest thing I have from the Lord at this point goes something like this: he’s testing our willingness to move outward with the message of hope to dads who aren’t hearing it anywhere else.

     I’ve never known a dad who never felt like a screw-up. The condition is universal. To go into fatherhood with a backlog of blunders already, I can imagine how hopeless it must seem – “Will I ever be anything else but a failure?” How did Jesus, as a man, overcome the temptation to give up? At frequent intervals, the Father provided encouragement to him. Jesus, lying awake at night after those tense encounters with Pharisees and self-righteous scribes, maybe thinking, “Oh, boy – that coulda gone better…” was never alone. In this walk-around world in our own century, our job is to recreate the never-alone condition, on behalf of Jesus’s Father, my Father… our Father.

     The state of fatherhood around us is about to improve, supernaturally.

 

 Grace and Peace from God our Father,

 

John         

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