The only joy that has been greater for me than being a father is eternal joy of being eternally saved. The joys of fatherhood a million times over have outweighed the heartaches of being a father. My children are now all over 40 and I’ve had many years to ponder things about the decisions we made in how we tried to rear them. I certainly didn’t bat a thousand, but I wanted to. From January 6, 1981 until today, I have loved having my children around. Of course I knew that they would grow up, likely marry, maybe have me some grandkids and that happened and is ongoing. Yet, there were times when they were trying to find their way. They didn’t always understand their dad, their mom, and our lack of understanding of what they were doing, likely didn’t agree with us and had thoughts of “I have got to be on my own, my dad and mom, they might be nuts.” A saying that I always used during those times of disagreement was simply one I learned from the story of the Prodigal Son found in Luke 15. The prodigal was out in sin, broke, friendless, dirty and so hungry while feeding the pigs he thought about eating pig food and yet the scripture says, “He came to himself and said, even the servants in my father’s house have bread enough and to spare.” The phrase I came up with for my kids was simply “Things are always better in the Fathers House.”
I wish I had a dollar for every person in the last fifty years that has shared regrets about the relationships they’d had with their dads. There have been those with legit reasons as to why they split, but the vast majority of them severed because of their desire to go live in “a far country.” The far country was where the fun was, far away from the constraints of dad with his boring life. Their lustful hearts along with the siren calls of the world was too much for some of them and off they ran into the waiting arms of soon to be heartache. Then, like the prodigal, they come to themselves hoping to somehow have the misery be removed and the joy to return. The problem for some is they can’t go home; their dads are no longer there.
Two Stories: The first, I read about this week and the second was one I read, I am guessing, over 25 years ago. A woman named Rachel shared her favorite memory from when she was a little girl. Her dad was notorious for spontaneous family road trips. He liked the idea of getting in the car and seeing what they could find. Anxious would have been an understatement when it got dark and had no reservations for sleeping. Tempers would flare but they were seeing what they could find and enjoy. On one occasion, the family was driving and suddenly her dad saw a hitchhiker. He stopped and gave the man a ride with the whole family in the car. My dad stopped at a Dairy Queen and bought everyone, including the hitchhiker an ice cream. Just before her dad dropped him off, he looked at her with a smile and said, “I’d give my life to have what you have right now.” He couldn’t go back.
The second story was from a now grown woman. She hadn’t talked to her father in over ten years. Their split had come because of a boy. The father didn’t care for her choice, but there’s nothing more foolish than a young girl in love. The father forbade her from being with the boy and off she ran into the arms of misery. Stealing words from a song by the late Kris Kristofferson, the young man was a “taker.” He would take her to places she’d never been and then take off, leaving her with a crushed heart and life. Pride or thinking her father hated her, flooded her mind. The years passed and one night she got a call from a nurse in the Intensive Care Unit at the hospital. “Is this ______?” “Yes, it is.” “I’m a nurse in the ICU. Your father is very sick and likely won’t live very long. Your name and number were the information he put to contact in case of an emergency.” The woman said, “Please don’t let my father die. I need to see him. Please don’t let him die. I’m coming right now, please don’t let him die.” She got to the hospital and walked quickly down the hallway. The corridor was dark with the exception of one dim light in one room. It was his room. She walked in only to find an empty bed. The nurse that had called stepped into the room seeing her sitting in the chair crying. “I didn’t get here in time. I didn’t get to tell him I was sorry for everything.” The nurse reached into her pocket pulling out a piece of paper. “Your father asked me for a sheet of paper before he died. He wrote you something and asked that I give it to you if you came.” She took the paper, unfolded it and began reading. “I forgive you. I’m sorry too for how things happened. I love you and always will.” She looked at the nurse with a huge smile. “He forgave me, he still loves me. Thank you for giving him this paper for him to say this to me. You see my father and I haven’t spoken in over ten years. I thought he’d disowned me but he still loved me and forgave me.”
One of those stories ended with a man longing to have what he couldn’t and the other ended with mended heart. How much better would it have been had either of the breaches never happened. If they’d only understood the truth in the story of the prodigal, “things are always better at the father’s house.” Three quick things. 1. There is Peace at the Father’s House. Becoming a Christian means, we are no longer enemies of God. Romans 5:1. We are now sons of God. 2. There is wonderful Provisions at the Father’s House. “Bread enough and to spare.” 3. There is Pardon at the Father’s House. Forgiveness is available for the wise. Forgiveness to be saved and forgiveness to have fellowship restored. I John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” I close with a poem I found online. Not sure who wrote it.
O house of my Father, Your gates call me near,
Where mercy flows freely and love casts out fear.
Your voice I will follow, Your presence my song—
In the home of my God, forever I belong.

Happy Father’s Day
Pastor Tom