Father's Day: Introspective stuff (or, "Manning Up")

I just celebrated my fourth Father's Day, and this one was the busiest yet. Actually, the last few months have been the busiest of my life, what with the birth of Elliot Katherine Smith in October of 2016. I can count on one hand the number of full nights of sleep Hillary and I have gotten in the last eight months, but it's been the most amazing eight months of my life and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

In fact, I wouldn't trade the last four years for anything, either.

Three years ago, Hillary and I were preparing for our wedding. As such, her daughters, soon to be my daughters, needed a name to call me. They'd been calling me 'Graham' for over a year, and although that had been fine when Hillary and I had been dating, it just didn't have the feeling that any of us wanted. 'Daddy' was already taken... so Faith, and by proxy, Zoe, since at that time Zoe wanted to do whatever Faith was doing, decided I would be called "Dad."

So even before Hillary and I were married, I became Dad. I officially had kids.

This was what was waiting for me when I came home from a mission trip to Guatemala that summer. Tears were shed. 

Fast forward a few years, and my life looks completely different than anything I ever planned. Hillary and I survive one miscarriage and then have Ellie Kate. She turns out to be absolutely amazing, and the cutest baby that has ever lived. Yes, I'm biased, but I am more than willing to back that statement up with independent research 

Good luck to anyone else vying for the title. This is your competition. 

I was lucky enough to spend Father's Day weekend not only with my father, but all three of my children, since other concerned parties asked to have the entire weekend free because of previously arranged engagements. More power to ME: I couldn't think of any other people I'd rather spend Father's Day weekend with.

And what commenced was a lot of swimming, playing, and all-around fun. And one big reminder that I am, without a doubt, the most blessed man on the face of the earth.

Last night, as I was feeding Ellie Kate her bedtime bottle and rocking her to sleep, I noticed a printed canvas that sat on her bookshelf. You all know the kind: there are hundred of them at Hobby Lobby, with fun and inspirational sayings printed on them. This one had been in Ellie Kate's nursery since we'd brought her home, but I don't think I'd read it until that very moment (it had been partially covered by "The Very Hungry Caterpillar"). I'm not sure when we bought this particular canvas, or if someone bought it for us, but here's what it says, in white letters on a pink field:

Read me a story 

and tuck me in tight. 

Tell me you love me 

and kiss me goodnight. 

I've shed a lot of tears over my kids already, even in the short time they've been in my life. But as I held the baby in my arms and read this, really read it, I had to bite my lip to keep the tears back as I faced a truth that I'd always known. It had been easy to ignore in the eight months since we'd brought Ellie Kate home, because of the breakneck pace that life has taken, but in that quite moment I was forced to confront it. 

I only have a short time to influence this little life before she steps into a harsh, bleak world. The world will not tell her she is loved, will not look out for her best interests, will not care whether she is happy or fed or encouraged. The world, given the chance, would chew her up and spit her out like it had millions before her. 

How long do I have? Ten years, before her friends suddenly have more influence than me? Ten years before me telling her "I love you" isn't enough for her to realize that she's beautiful, that she's amazing and special and perfect just the way she is? 

Even thinking back to the time that's already slipped away, the time I frittered away staying focused on keeping diapers clean and getting her to sleep through the night and moving her from bottles to baby food, without realizing those were moments I'd never get back... I realized I'd already lost so much time. 

And then I thought about Faith and Zoe, the older girls, and I got really horrified. 

Already, Faith is reaching the age where she'd rather spend time alone in her room with a piece of technology than with her mother and I. She's EIGHT. And if this is what she'd rather do, I have no one to blame but myself: if I want to encourage her to spend time with me now, and to foster the necessity for quality time so she'll still want me in her life when she's a teenager, I need to get off my butt and invest in her NOW. I know there are already voices from outside her, pulling her this way and that: and if you have a child around the same age and you think your kids are immune, PLEASE don't fool yourself. It starts earlier now than it did when we were kids. 

And Zoe... sweet, little Zoe... all she wants is someone to play with her. Legos. Play-Doh. Doc McStuffins. Dinosaurs. It doesn't matter to her. If you sit in her room and play with her, you're her best friend. 

How much time have I already missed with these girls? I've only been in their lives for four years, which means I'm already behind the curve. How often have they needed my time and attention, and I've simply been too hard-headed to notice and offer myself to them? It's not THEIR responsibility to seek me out for me to invest in them: It's up to ME to intentionally invest in these kids. 

Maybe I'm agonizing too much about this. After all, I don't *think* there's anything wrong with the time I spend playing video games, or watching TV, or goofing around on the Internet. I don't think too many of these opportunities have slipped through my fingers yet. But if I don't let myself become a little paranoid - if I'm not constantly on the look-out for every opportunity to make sure my kids know how loved they are - I'm going to blink, and these important moments are going to be gone. 

Ellie Kate has already moved out of the Duckling Room at daycare. Now she's a Piglet. 

Faith has seen hundred of videos on Youtube Kids, the contents of which I am completely oblivious of. 

Zoe wasn't even verbal when I met her. Now she's reading three- and four-letter words. 

The Steve Miller Band lied. Time doesn't keep 'slipping' into the future. Time screams into the future like a meteor entering the atmosphere, and only when you take a look around do you realize how much time has passed and how old you really are. 

I know one thing for certain, though: without God's help, I'm never going to be able to make the most of my time with my three girls. If I focus too hard on them, make them the center of my life instead of Him, I'll end up elevating them to a place they were never supposed to be: as the center of my life. And, while this sounds appealing while they're small and sweet and cute and cuddly, I have to remember that I'm the one they're looking up to, and what I teach them matters. If I teach them that earthly relationships are what we should strive for, that it's okay to make another person a god in your life, that's the kind of relationships they're going to look for. 

And if I'm afraid now of having my hands full when they're teenagers... I'll really have my work cut out for me if the girls make every little boy they fall in love with the centers of their universes. 

One day, the girls are going to be grown. And the things I teach them now, when they're young, are going to matter. While it's vitally important that I show them love and affection and caring that only their daddy can provide, it's even more dire that I teach them there's Someone who loves them on a level that I could never even approach. That, no matter how much someone on earth says they love them, that Another loved them so much that He sacrificed everything to be with them.

They need to learn that there is such a thing as love that can never be taken away, love that never fails, that never grows old, that always fulfills. 

There's no way to slow down the rate at which the girls are growing up. The two older ones have already been through so much in their young lives. If I want to make sure I'm not royally screwing up this Daddy business, I'm going to have to keep my head on straight and keep my eyes on Jesus. We, as parents, are the first line of defense against the forces that do, and will forever, assail our children. 

Time to man up. 

"Is it Hateful to believe in Hell?"

I hate politics. I hate what it's done to our country, I hate what it's done to people I know, and I hate what it's done to my various social media outlets.

This blog post has NOTHING to do with the current administration: I believe it's possible to feel a certain way about the government, live my life contrary or in accordance with whatever is being said and done, and (GASP!) not blast Facebook with it.

This has to do with an article I read on NPR earlier today. It's titled, "Is It Hateful To Believe In Hell? Bernie Sanders' Questions Prompt Backlash".

You should read it yourself, instead of taking my word for what it says. In case you're busy or tired, here's the general idea: Bernie Sanders, Vermont Senator, questions whether Russell Vought (Trump's appointee for deputy director of the Office of Management and Budget)'s views of Christianity - specifically, on the eternal condemnation of non-Christians - qualifies as hateful or Islamophobic. It was the Senator's opinion that it does.

Bear in mind: this blog post is not about all the things mainstream Christianity does right or wrong.

I repeat: This. Is. Not. About. What. Mainstream. Christianity. Does. Right. Or. Wrong. This is about the Christian belief in hell, the authority of scripture, and whether or not belief in scripture should disqualify someone from a job. Reading this article set my mind twisting, mainly because I'm usually a fan of Senator Sanders. But I think he's got this wrong.

If I claim to be a Christian, I have to believe in the absolute infallibility of scripture. If I believe that parts of Scripture are truth and others are not, or parts of it should be taken in context and parts of it shouldn't, then I can make it say whatever I want it to say. And if that's the sort of Scripture I believe in, I don't actually believe in anything.

Hell exists. Damnation exists. Condemnation exists.

In the article, Senator Sanders repeatedly asked Mister Vought, "Do you believe people who are not Christians are condemned?" He did not elaborate on this, and I assume it was so whatever answer Mister Vought provided could be twisted into America's political machine.

But the answer is simple. If Mr. Vought is a Christian, the answer is yes.

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:6)

I claim to be a follower of Jesus. So I must accept the truth that He is the only path to salvation.

The article claimed that "about of half of U.S. Christians believe that some non-Christians can go to heaven". In my view, this means that half of U.S. Christians aren't really Christians at all. Because if someone is trying to peddle a Christianity without the need for Christ, without the need for forgiveness of sin and Christ's sacrifice on the cross, without reconciliation with the only true One worthy of our love, they're not peddling Christianity at all. They're trying to sell a watered-down, touchy-feely, sunshine-and-rainbows Christianity. And believing in this fake Christianity is, in my opinion, even more dangerous than not being a Christian at all.

But that leave me with this problem: Since I believe this, then that means many of my loved ones are, indeed, condemned.

This is a hard pill to swallow. I am friends with people who believe many different 'flavors' of Christianity, some of which don't have room for hell in their belief of God. I am friends with dozens of non-Christians and people of other faiths. Am I proclaiming that, as they are now, they're bound for hell?

Yes. And I cannot apologize for that belief. Because it's Scripture. It's truth. And Jesus never apologized for Truth.

This doesn't mean that it doesn't break my heart. Quite the opposite! It has me on my knees day and night, asking God to show me a way to speak about Jesus to these people I love in a way that won't turn them away from Him forever.

But does this belief make me hateful? Does it make me Islamophobic? Or Agnostophobic? Or Anti-semetic?

The argument I believe Senator Sanders was trying to make (at least, it's the argument the commenters on the Facebook article thought he was trying to make, and I severely regret having to wade through that quagmire) is that Mr. Vought would be unable to do his job as deputy director of the Office of Management and Budget because of this belief that non-Christians are condemned, that it would stain his view of them and impact his decisions on whether or not to allocate funds to these condemned people.

Despite it being in Scripture absolutely nowhere, there is a common misconception that Hell is for people who disobey what's written in God's Big Book of Downers, and Heaven is for people who never have fun but fall in line to God's ridiculously unrealistic behavior constraints. This lie has been pushing people away from Christ since He first walked the earth.

All of humanity is fallen. Everyone, Christian or Jew, Muslim or non-believer, continues to fall short of the glory of God every day. Me, included. You, included. Your grandmother, included. That's the point of salvation: repentance of a life lived in opposition to God, but continual justification for the endless times we fall short. We call this GRACE.

Belief that those who haven't yet claimed the justification of Christ are still under God's wrath isn't a statement of hatred. It's a statement of fact.

But we are called, as ambassadors for Christ, to show the love of Christ to everyone regardless of this fact. A Christian teacher would never think to not invest in the life of a student because the student has a different belief system. A Christian plumber wouldn't ignore a flooded basement in the home of a Jewish or Islamic family. A Christian pastor would never turn away the questions of an agnostic or atheist seeking clarification.

And a true Christian deputy director of the Office of Management and Budget would never allocate funds away from certain groups of people simply because of their condemnation.

The love of Christ, and the gifts and works of our hands, aren't simply for the righteous. If that was the case, then no one would every do anything for anybody. Because no one is righteous. Absolutely no one. 

Christ set the ultimate example for us. When he died on the cross, no one on earth was worthy of the gift of salvation. When He brought his "funds" to us - the payment for our sins - all of humanity, stretching from time immemorial to time eternal - was condemned. But instead of turning away, He gave. Not only to the millions who would accept His free gift, but for the billions who He knew would have the opportunity to accept it, but would chose not to.

Christ commands the same attitude of love and generosity and fairness from us.

I suppose the article rubbed me the wrong way because it accused a Christian of being unable to do a job simply because he believes scripture. But, as is often the problem with interpreting little pieces of scripture instead of interpreting scripture as a whole, the context was lost. Christ is the only path to salvation, yes: but, as long as there are people in our lives not on that path (and there always will be), we are called to live every day displaying the same love Christ showed everyone, not just Christians, when He died for us.

Yes, condemnation exists. Yes, billions of people stand under it, tens of millions of those in America. But does believing that, saying it aloud, count as hate speech?

If so, then I guess I'm hateful.