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BUILD CHARACTER INTO YOUR CHILDREN
David Kraft was a big, strong man -- all muscle. At the age of 32, he was six feet, two inches tall and weighed 200 pounds. He had been to seminary and ended up working with the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, because of his athletic background.
Then he was diagnosed with cancer. It wracked his body, and over a period of time, he dropped from 200 pounds to 80 pounds.
When he was about ready to pass from this life into eternity, he asked his father to come into his hospital room. Lying there in bed, he looked up and said, "Dad, do you remember when I was a little boy, how you used to hold me in your arm close to your chest?"
David's father nodded. Then David said, "Do you think, Dad, you could do that one more time? One last time?"
Again his father nodded. He bent down to pick up his 32-year-old, six-foot, two-inch, 80 pound son, and held him close to his chest, so that the son's face was right next to the father's face. They were eyeball to eyeball. Tears were streaming down both faces, and the son said to his father, "Thank you for building the kind of character into my life that can enable me to face even a moment like this." (Ron Lee Davis, "Introducing Christ to Your Child," Preaching Today, Tape No.92)
Men, I dare you to be that kind of father (or grandfather) to your children. Dare to build into them the kind of character that will enable them to face anything in life. Then you will be a real leader, not only in your home, but among your peers, as well.
(From a sermon by C. Philip Green, Loving Leadership, 6/17/2010)
THE STORY IS TOLD OF A FATHER OF 5 WHO CAME HOME WITH A TOY, HE SUMMONED HIS CHILDREN AND ASKED WHICH ONE SHOULD BE GIVEN THE PRESENT. "WHO IS THE MOST OBEDIENT, NEVER TALKS BACK TO MOM AND DOES EVERY THING HE OR SHE IS TOLD TO DO?" HE INQUIRED. THERE WAS SILENCE, AND THEN A CHORUS OF VOICES: "YOU PLAY WITH IT DADDY!"
Steve Malone
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PRECIOUS DAD MOMENT
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection. A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw were aching in anticipation,
I carried it to the picnic table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side. "Hold Johnny, (our six-week-old son), while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. And I had no napkin. So I licked it off.
It was NOT mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand I did the sort of routine shoeshine guys do, only I did it on my tongue.
Later my wife said, "Now you know why they call that mustard ’Poupon.’"
BRAGGIN' 'BOUT DAD
Three boys in the schoolyard were bragging about who had the better father:
The first boy says, “My Dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a poem, and they give him $100.”
The second boy says, “That’s nothing. My Dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a song, and they give him $1000.”
The third boy says, “My Dad is ever b...
THANK YOU, DAD
Thank you Dad,
for giving us a very special gift.
Its the most important gift of all,
That only love can give.
You read us the Bible at bedtime
and taught us how to pray.
You made sure we made it to church every Sunday.
And even though
we acted like we didn’t hear a thing,
When I’m in church today,
I hear an old familiar ring.
I’ve learned alot through all these years,
through the good times and the bad.
I want you to know,
I thank God every night for you Dad.
I can’t imagine
how it would be to live life day by day...
Not knowing God, not knowing love,
not knowing how to pray.
It would be so cold, so lonely,
so sad a life I know.
And it’s all because of you, Dad.
God’s love - we’ve been shown.
So Dad we want to thank you
on this very special day.
Because of you - we now know
the true meaning of Father’s Day.
~By Terri Lewis~
I was fortunate to grow up in a home where my father was both a loving and disciplining presence. I guess I would have to say that if there is anything I really remember about my dad is this, he possessed a presence unlike any other person in my life. To me he was always larger than life. He towered over me and just had a way of peering down at me that, depending upon the situation, could either rivet me to the spot in guilt or immediately cause me to reach out in search of his love. My dad had a smell about him that was uniquely him. There was always the faint odor of aftershave no matter what the time of day. This, mixed with the ever-present tinge of Chesterfield aroma, was always a sure sign that he had passed this way. Dad also had a unique way of clicking his teeth and clearing his throat. I knew that he was around and that my world was protected and safe when I heard those distinctively “dad” noises I had become so accustomed to. This was what made up the physical aura of my father.
There were other things about my dad that fleshed out his presence. The way he mixed his peas with his potatoes. The way he always used pepper on his food as well as the inevitable sneeze that followed. My dad wore argyle socks and very seldom wore shorts. He liked to walk barefoot in the grass while he sprinkled his precious lawn in the summer. Over the course of the years, image after image was plied upon his presence as I came to know the man in whose footsteps I knew I would some day walk. To some people his habits might have been annoying, even irritating. To me they were simply images of a man I was trying to know and conform to. Just like most boys, I wanted to be like my father when I grew up. I wanted to smell like him and sing like him. I wanted to drive a car like him and go to work like him. I swing a hammer a certain way today because that’s the way he swung it. I shave in the manner he shaved, first a swipe on the right, then the left, then under the chin and done. In this sense, dad over the course of sixteen or so years was shaping the purpose of a young man who had all of life in front of him.
As I grew older and more perceptive, I became more able in my study of the man. I began to observe his life as well as his presence. I saw his times of joy as well as his times of pain. When he lost his job I was only a little boy but I remember his deep sorrow followed by a stern commitment to make everything better. I saw his anger as well as his gentleness. The way he hugged my mom and kissed her even when we kids were around is an image I have carried with me to this day. When I left home at eighteen I was confident that I was on the way to becoming my “own man.” I didn’t find out until later that I was simply flexing my wings in pre-course to a flight that would bear a great similarity to the way my father had soared above me for years.
In the many years since I launched into my own flight as a man and a father, I can now reflect back and see the greatest lesson my dad taught me; that a man’s presence is a mixture of joy and pain. This is what makes him a man. This is what gives him purpose and value. Happiness is not all joy. Rather, it is having a purpose in life that is founded on the growth a man achieves when he builds on his misfortunes as well as his successes. The pain was as good as the joy. In fact, we can’t really know joy without the pain. To many Americans today even the suggestion that we conform to our suffering in order to know true happiness would be just plain foolishness. In a culture bent on a “no pain” attitude molded by the misguided belief that the end of all living is comfort and happiness, there is no room for such introspection. When we are confronted by trouble the first thought is to escape from it, not learn from it. Our purpose has become a purpose bent on escape from pain. The idea of embracing pain seems almost un-American. Nashville pastor Byron Yawn writes,
“Because of this distorted perception, we rarely stop to search for the ‘hand of God’ in the midst of our trouble. Seeking to understand God’s purposes in our pain is all but foreign. As a result, embracing pain’s role in our sanctification is usually the farthest thing from our minds.” (Preaching Now Vol. 1, No. 20. Tue 9/3/2002)
God has called each of us to conform to the image of His Son, Jesus Christ. Like our fathers, that is an image of joy mixed with pain. There is now escaping it; this was His life and it is ours as well. His purpose was to glorify the Father in His suffering. Our greatest purpose is no different. May each of us be “counted worthy of his calling.” Embrace the pain and learn from it. Make this the cornerstone of your purpose as a believe in Christ Jesus our Lord.
I HEARD OF YOUNG MOTHER WHO WENT DOWN TO THE NURSERY AT A HOSPITAL AND FOUND HER YOUNG HUSBAND PEERING DOWN AT HIS NEWBORN BABY WHO WAS ASLEEP. THE MOTHER COULD TELL HE WAS CAPTIVATED BY THE SCENE AS HE STOOD THERE LOOKING AT THE SLEEPING INFANT. SHE WAS SO TOUCHED THAT FINALLY SHE TIPTOED UP BEHIND HIM AND SLIPPED HER ARM THROUGH HIS AND SAID, "HONEY, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT?" HE SAID, "I JUST CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOW THEY’RE ABLE TO MAKE A CRIB LIKE THIS FOR $89.95." FOR THE MOST PART FATHER’S ARE NOT AS SENTIMENTAL.
THE DEFINITION OF BARBECUING
It’s the only type of cooking a "real man" will do. When a man volunteers to do the ’BBQ’ the following chain of events is put into motion:
1) The woman goes to the store.
2) The woman fixes the salad, vegetables, and dessert.
3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray
along with the necessary cooking utensils, and takes it to the
man, who is lounging beside the grill.
4) The man places the meat on the grill.
5) The woman goes inside to set the table and check the vegetables.
6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning.
7) The man takes the meat off the grill and hands it to the woman.
8) The woman prepares the plates and brings them to the table.
9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
10) Everyone praises the man and thanks him for his...
You, " said the doctor to his patient, "are in terrible shape
you’ve got to do something about it. First, tell your wife to cook more nutritious meals. Stop working like a dog. Also inform your wife you’re going to make a budget , and she has to stick to it. And have her keep the kids off your back so you can relax. Unless there are some changes in your life, you’ll probably be dead in a month."
"Doc", the patient said, "this would sound more official coming from you. Could you please call my wife and give her those instructions?’ When the fellow got home, his wife rushed to him. "I talked to the doctor" she wailed, "poor man, you only have 30 days to live".
ERMA BOMBECK IN HER USUAL HUMOROUS WAY WROTE THE FOLLOWING ABOUT FATHERS, "WHEN I WAS KID A FATHER WAS LIKE A LIGHT IN THE REFRIGERATOR. EVERY BODY’S HOUSE HAD ONE BUT NO ONE REALLY KNEW WHAT EITHER DID WHEN THE DOOR WAS SHUT."
