A Father's Impact . . .

At a coffee shop in Canada, I picked up a copy of the Toronto Star, which was there for customers to read while drinking their coffee. It was full of reports on the G-20 and G-8 conferences being held in Ontario. An article on an inside page caught my eye. The lead line spoke of "different dads" and "father issues."

It said most of the world leaders are themselves fathers and a couple of them have fathered twenty or more children! But coming from all walks of life, the fathers of all these leaders have affected (for good or for ill,) the lives of these who are now shaping our world.

While the Canadian Prime Minister was very close to his dad, others grew up without their father’s influence. For instance, Barack Obama, Sr. herded goats in Kenya during his youth. Though educated in Harvard as an economist, he returned to Kenya after his divorce from President Obama’s mother. His son saw him only one more time before he died in an auto accident in 1982. In his book, "Dreams From My Father," Mr. Obama speaks of how hard it was to grow up without his father; a man deemed highly intelligent yet profoundly flawed. He said, "My father was missing. Nothing my mother or grandparents told me could obviate than single, unassailable fact."

The first French President in modern times whose parents are living, Nicholas Sarkozy’s father, Pel, a Hungarian immigrant, (who says he loves women and high living,) came to France penniless. He started his own advertising agency, then left Nicholas’ mother. In succeeding years he’s had three more wives, more children and numerous affairs. From age 4, Nicholas never saw his father again until after he became President.

The father of South Africa’s President, Jacob Zuma, was a policeman who died at the end of World War II, while Jacob was just a child. He soon had to go to work to help his mother and family eke out a living, which prevented him from receiving a formal education.

The fathers of today's world leaders have held many occupations; some were highly esteemed and some would be considered menial. One was a Lutheran pastor, another a bank employee. Others include a cattle ranch hand, a dairy farmer, a glass manufacturing plant executive, a stock broker, a professor, a bus driver, and an accountant.
[Source: "Who’s Their Daddy?" Pg. IN-3, Toronto Star; Sunday, June 20, 2010.]

So, although some had good relationships with their fathers, others came to the present through negatives and deficiency. Some consider they’ve achieved earthly recognition despite circumstances and backgrounds. Others see limitations, (thrust upon them by the lack of a father’s guidance and/or by the difficulties they endured,) affecting their ability to lead effectively. While overcoming obstacles is always a possibility, it is also a challenge. For many, it is the crayon that colors everything else in life.

Over the years, I’ve heard Bro. Grisham teach that the best example a father can set before his children is to love God, love his wife, and love his children. The fathers I’ve observed who have modeled this wise advice are without exception, honorable men worthy of godly emulation. Children raised in such a setting have advantages beyond monetary measure. The example godly fathers set provides insight and perspective capable of holding their children steady throughout life’s ebb and flow.

Moses commanded, "Teach your children diligently; when you sit at home, when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." (Deuteronomy 6:7 niv) Fathers who failed in this task handed their children over to idolatry and sure and certain judgment. Subsequent generations did not even know God. As judgment fell, the prophet spoke of the proverb, "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge." (Ezekiel 18:2) But this was not God’s plan. He wanted reconciliation and restoration. "Behold, I will sent you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse." (Malachi 4:5-6)

In the New Testament, the Apostle Paul balances the ledger, "And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath; but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4. See also Colossians 3:21.)

Fathers, you have an unction from the Holy One. Your children are your deposit into the future, your bid in making an impact on the world to come. The only contribution that will truly last is the one that affects and enhances eternity. Everything else is wood, hay and stubble.

~ mjkinnee
July 2010

The Prodigal's Mother

Of the prodigal’s tale, we all are aware,
Stubborn, he wanted to manage his share;
So he took it and headed off into the sun,
Determined to have his share of fun.

We hear how he partied away all he had,
Rumors were flowing and all were bad;
The father kept watch as the months wore on,
Only love could rescue his wayward son.

We hear of his downfall, the ruins of sin,
We hear of the pigpen he found himself in;
We hear of the change that began in his heart,
How he thought of home and the servant’s part.

We hear of his journey and father’s delight
We hear sounds of joy as they ring in the night;
Brother’s envy and spite make our spirits groan,
But through it all – we’re glad he’s home.

But what of his mother? We never do hear,
Yet surely her presence was always near;
Her baby was lost – her precious son,
She must have wept and prayed, undone.

In dark, night hours, while others slept,
A tear-stained vigil his mother kept;
She groaned and travailed more deep than at birth,
For the wayward one’s soul had yet greater worth.

She waited and hoped in the promise of God,
Reminding, abiding, her faith walked dry-shod;
Through oceans of tears, through doubts and fear,
Come what may - though it took many a year.

And then, when the promise finally did arrive,
Imagine the sparkle of joy in her eye;
Hustling, bustling in a glorious dither,
The servants all rushing hither and thither.

Mama, in high gear, was doing her best,
Preparing a fabulous celebration fest;
All her boy’s favorite cookies and cake,
Were piled high and waiting for more to bake.

But right in the midst of the joyful preparation,
Mama steals off for a quiet conversation –
With the One who had shared her burden and grief,
“He’s home now, Lord, Oh, what blessed relief!”

By Marjorie Kinnee

Note: I took the liberty of adding a possibility to this age-old story in honor of Mothers Day and in tribute to mothers of wayward children. They carry a special burden, full of sorrow, travail and pleading intercession. But they partner with the One whose heart is touched and is able to work, even in the darkest of situations. What He's done for others - He'll do for you! "Now unto Him who is able to do exceeding, abundantly above all we can ask or think...", be all the glory and honor and power and dominion. In Jesus' Name!

I'm Glad You're My Dad!

My Dad passed away in December, 1990. Though it's a long time ago now, Father's Day never comes but what I think about the things that made him so special.

• He served in World War II as a medic in Guam, Okinawa and Hawaii and came home in 1945. After a time driving a bus for the city of Detroit, he took advantage of a chance at a career as a salesman and never looked back.
• In retrospect, it's apparent that "not looking back" became part of his personna. Though his childhood was full of obstacles and difficulties, he never spent time mourning over the negatives or the if-onlies and what-ifs. He just went on to something better.
• Over a span of thirty-six years, he sold many different things; Vlasic, Heinz, Walker Automotive, Eutectic Welding andVestal Chemicals. Though he traveled during the week, he would plan his schedule so he'd be home every weekend.
• Daddy was a "cock-eyed optomist." His perennial outlook was "things are going to get better." He'd grin a big, goofy grin, lean close to mom and say, "Stick by me and you'll wear pearls." Another of his famous one-liners always ended with "...when my ship comes in."
• He loved nonsense poems and songs; The Owl and the Pussycat, The Jabberwok, Under the Sweet Magnolia Tree, 'Twas Midnight on the Ocean, Rise Up My Dearest Dear, Clancy Lowered the Boom, It's Nice to Get Up in the Morning, and A - I'm Adorable are a few of the poems and tunes we heard frequently. If he ever did get sad (or mad) about something, you could usually cheer him up by requesting one of his favorite poems or songs. What's more, he had an incredible capacity to memorize any new ones he heard. So his repertoire was constantly growing. In 1966, after a major heart attack and shortly after being removed from a respirator, he treated my niece and myself to a recitation of "Under the Sweet Magnolia Tree." The sight was something I'll never forget. There he was - laying there with monitors beeping and tubes exiting everywhere. But he put his fingertips together and with his eyes closed began at the beginning, grinning all the while. It made both of us giggle and that made him feel better too.
• He was faithful and loyal. He came to God when he was sixteen years old and led his mother to the Lord soon after. That was in 1936 in the old Royal Oak church pastored by Bro. C. C. Kirby. He loved this truth and gladly followed the Lord and his pastor's teaching. Down through all the years of my memory, I never had a question as to what my parents thought about this truth. It was forever settled for both of them. That made for tremendous stablility for me and for my brothers and sister.
• Daddy was an anchor point. There was no question as to where my dad would be. On church nights, prayer meetings, revivals, special services, saints meetings, work days and nights... you name it, he was there - we all were! We arrived early and stayed until the altar services were closed. It was in a Sunday evening service, in the midst of the years of faithfulness that I was baptized in Jesus' Name. Seven months later, after another Sunday evening service, I received the Holy Ghost. I can truly say, faithfulness pays dividends.
• From the day of his conversion until the day of his death, he was a member of only two churches - Bro. Kirby's in Royal Oak, and after his death, daddy resettled his family with the Reeds in Troy, Michigan.
• When age and illness slowed his body down, he still loved to be of service. He would arrive at least a half-hour early so he could bring the water pitcher to the platform for the pastor. It was a small thing, but he saw to it that the thermal pitcher was cleaned and filled with fresh cold water for every service. He would make his way to the platform about fifteen minutes before service started with a tray holding the pitcher, a clean glass and a clean cloth towel to cover them.
• Not long before he became ill, he told me his life's ambition and prayer was to live so he could leave this world a better place than it was when he came. When I look back, I have no doubt that he was blessed by the Lord who heard his desire and granted his petition.

I'm glad I was born to John Raymond and Marjorie Edith Broyles. I'm also glad and thankful for the firm foundation they gave me. I will be eternally grateful for this precious truth and the way they lived and modeled it before me. This Father's Day I wanted to honor my dad. (I wrote an earlier piece about my mom and a picture taken in about 1948 is on the sidebar at the right.) He was a unique individual. He could be stern and formiddable if crossed, but he loved his children and desired God's best for us all. When we did right it made him so proud.

A week before he died, while visiting in North Carolina, daddy gave his final testimony. We did not know it was his last at the time but we all noted how he was full of thanksgiving for what the Lord had done in his family and faith in the Lord who was going to complete the work. That was yet another Sunday evening in a long line of faithfulness. That night, daddy got to hear his son preach. Though John had been preaching for some time, this was the first time daddy ever heard him. It was such a thrill to see daddy's joy. Before another Sunday came, my dad had been called home to glory.

And now years have come and gone. Three more grandchildren (with one one the way,) and fourteen great-grandchildren (with one on the way,) have been born since daddy's death. He would have thoroughly enjoyed every one of them and would have regaled them with renditions of his favorite silly songs and poems. They'd have loved it (and him) and he'd have basked in the knowing that they enjoyed his humor. But more importantly I believe, he would have wanted to be sure that they too were rooted and grounded in this glorious truth. Daddy lived his faith. He died in faith. And we who remain have a heritage and a legacy of faithfulness that needs to be passed on to our children and their children too.