Big Daddy - A Father's Day Thought

My Father planned for my birth for a long time. He looked forward to that day with great anticipation. He longed for my arrival into his life and his family’s. I understand from him that my birth was a time of great joy. There was laughter, tears of joy, a moment that he said that he would never forget.

He taught me how to walk. Even when I stumbled and fell, he never grew impatient with me. He would just reach down and pick me up, brush me off and walk with me for a while. He knew that learning to walk would take time. He never seemed to be in a hurry to have me learn what I needed to learn.

He taught me how to talk. If you know my father, much of my vocabulary is like his. We often use the same words and often even think alike. People have said that when you hear me speak it is like hearing my father speaks. I count that as an extreme complement.

Early in my life, he showed an interest in the things I liked, baseball, the outdoors, and my love for hanging with friends. He encouraged me in those areas where I had potential. He often saw things in me that I did not see in myself. His interest was my eventual maturity and success.

My father always took good care of the family. We never lacked for food, clothing, shelter and the other necessities of life. Sometimes I was not satisfied and wanted more. Occasionally I was envious of others who seemed to have more, you know bigger and better. Now looking back, I appreciate exactly what he gave me.

We had a large family and I learned early that my father expected me to share. I sometimes resented the fact that he basically said that everything he had given to me really still belonged to him so that if my siblings needed it, I had to share! It now seems silly how I would sometimes hide stuff so my family would not know about it. I could enjoy it in secret! Dad seemed to always know when I was doing that and would expose me and sometimes even take away things he had given to me until I learned the principle of sharing.

It was amazing how my father reacted when I was angry. It was as if he had been there and knew how I felt. He always showed me constructive ways to channel my anger in a way that would do the least amount of damage and even perhaps do some good.

I learned early in my youth, that there was nothing off limits in terms of discussion. That was a little weird or strange at first to talk to him about things that I and my friends talked about. There was nothing that he could not handle, He was shockproof.

When I grew older and had questions about girls and sex, he always had good advice. Sometimes he would just listen and even was silent at times. Sometimes he would give me something to read that seemed to get to the heart of the matter and just said it like it needs to be said. Sometimes I could tell that he just wanted me to think a little longer on what I had said. Did I really mean it? Did it really matter at all?

We did a lot of laughing growing up. Joy and humor was just a part of who he was. He knew when to be serious and when to have a good time. It took me some time to mature and truly understand that.

When I grew a little older, other people began to offer me friendship, advice that tended to contradict what Dad had told me. Without knowing it, I was drawn away a little at times from the closeness that we once knew. I can never say that there was out right rebellion, but the potential was there. He let me drift. He did not chase after me, he did not impose his will on me, he just waited patiently and I am sure that he was just confident that I would come to my senses and realize that he was truly my best friend and had my best interests in mind. He never held it against me when I chose poorly.

My father really cared about things that would hurt me and so often we would talk about stuff that the culture would offer and the end of that choice. Sometimes it was hard to really feel that he cared about me. If often appeared to me that he was trying to spoil my fun. It did not sound like it was that bad. And so I would sometimes do exactly what he warned me not to do. And boy did I learn immediately what he meant. As frustrating as it was, dad was always, always, always right!

When the time came for me to make the most important decisions of my life, like who I should marry, what kind of career should I embark on, my father would give me just the right amount of advice. I never felt like he was telling me what to do. Together, he and I would discover the right choice for me. I know that he approves and is happy for those decisions.

My father loved me so much that anytime I had a legitimate need, he would provide for me the resources to meet that need. Sometimes he said no to a request or my whining, because he knew it was not a legitimate need. “NO” is a good word.

My dad taught me how to keep promises because he always kept his. I grew up knowing that he was a man of his word. He never promised me the world, but actually gave me great insight about the world through what he did promise. Most of his promises were contingent upon my own behavior. If you do this, I will do that. That was good because it taught me responsibility and the consequences of sowing and reaping.

I wished I could be face to face with my father today. I know it is impossible at this moment but soon I hope to be physically close again.

The quality of this unconditional love in my dad is what I cherish the most. I know that no matter what I do, he will love me. It is not because I am the perfect son, although one of my brothers was perfect, he loved me because I am his son! I was born his son.

Thank you dad, thank you abba father, thank you God the father!

The Big "60"

The Big “60”

June 5, 2007 arrived like most Tuesday mornings. My new neighbors, a flock of birds, gently reminded me it was time to get up. They apparently don’t live by the clock but rather the sun. It’s Tuesday, sermon prep day.

The brain is running rather slow this morning and desperately needs a jolt of java. I somehow manage to find my way to the new supplier of my drug of choice, caffeine. It is called Saxbys. It is my new other office. Soon we will be on a first name basis as will my drink of choice. I meet a regular named Mike. He is a retired fireman from the Windsor/Severance fire department. I know he is a regular because he walked behind the counter and helped himself to coffee!

Several others came to settle in to their morning routine, a lady with a paper, two young men doing business, and lots of folks going through the drive up. It’s that kind of busy hurry up world we live in. I am glad for moments to allow the juices to begin flowing and time to catch up on the daily news. Hey, it’s Tuesday JUNE 5! Happy Birthday to me. So what is it like to be sixty Paul? (You can talk to yourself when you are sixty). Not much different than 50 or perhaps even 40. It is a day on the calendar like most others but causes one to reflect for a moment.

What mark have I left on the lives of people I love in the past year? Have I made a real difference? Have I drawn closer to God this year? Is my marriage better and stronger as a result of focus and love? Have I loved my enemies? Who has been loved into the Kingdom of Heaven through my efforts? What about this last decade?

My mind is immediately filled with images, the echo of conversations, heart to hearts, tearful embraces, and fervent prayers. It has been a good year, a good decade. It is nice to bask in the warmth of great memories for at least a moment. It makes me think about the next 10 years with my new church family, Windsor Assembly. I believe that this decade will be the best yet!

Perhaps on June 5, 2017, I will find myself once again at Saxbys. I am sure I will be serving myself coffee by then. I imagine that the tables are filled with friends; many of them now devoted followers of Christ. All this because I was called and Glenda, and I answered the call.

Last probing questions, Does mom love me? The phone rings later on while I am in the middle of sermonizing. She is a little freaked out that 3 of her 4 children are now 60 or older. She is almost 88 years old. Her mind is keen even though her walk is a little unsteady. She loves Dad and loves her 4 “kids”

It is going to be a good day!

In the Saddle

June 1, 2006

The air was crisp and fresh at Camp Dick, high above the crowds and busyness of the life back in the city. It was a great adventure taking my grandson Jake to be my camping buddy for a couple of days. It was delightful! Jake picked the menu’s (sorry mommy), so we had breakfast cereal for dinner, hot dogs and smors! It snowed about 4 inches which added to his joy, camping and snow at the same time. Oh to see life through the eyes of an almost four year old again. Delight and joy come quickly. Wonder is a naturally outflow of his view of life, the life God has created for him.

Memorial Day was our moving day as we left Camp Dick and pulled our 27 foot Prowler trailer to Windsor Colorado. Thanks to the generosity of Steve and Carrie Winter, we now have a “home” in Windsor. The farm is just a few miles from the church in Windsor. We have spent the last three Thursdays in Windsor taking care of our new church family. This week we began our new chapter in ministry with full time focus. The phrase, “In the Saddle” comes to mind, whatever that may mean.

Boy are there a lot of boxes of stuff to look through and clean out! It has been amazing to go through stacks of paper that represent 67 years of history for Windsor Assembly of God. Annual Reports, board minutes, pastoral reports, real estate transactions, copies of financial records, and at least 5 different versions of bylaws! I discovered that I am the nineteenth pastor of WAG.

All of that stuff is just that “stuff”. What the church is about and will always be about is the people, both the devoted and dedicated servants of God who labored so faithfully, and the hosts of people who came to know Jesus as Lord and Savior. That has not changed. WAG is still all about seeing people, boys and girls, teenagers, men and women, being born into the family of God. The work is not yet done. “The fields are white for harvest.”

Then there is this amazing love that I feel for this community and church. How is it that we can love people we have only known for such a short period of time? Why do I weep when they share their stories? Why do I drive down Main Street and wonder about the host of people I see, asking God the question, do they know you?

The only way I can begin to get a handle on my feeling is to remember the moment my children were born. In that moment, there was such joy and such love, in spite of the fact that we were only beginning our journey together as father and child. We had anticipated the event for nine months, wondering what they would look like, wondering what it would feel like to hold them tight to our chest so that our heartbeats became mingled as one.

It is sort of like that for us and the Windsor family. When God first planted the thought, the curiosity about Windsor on October, 18, 2006, it was as if God conceived a new relationship. Now we are here, holding our beloved church close to ourselves so our heartbeats become as one. It is love, real love, not just for those who now call it home but the great host of people that God will connect us with here in this region.

It is great to be in the saddle!

Gripped by His Passion,