Some of the earliest memories I have of my childhood involve going to church. Sunday school with Ms. Irene Creekmore telling Bible stories with paper cut outs on a felt story board, singing “Deep and Wide” with the rest of the kids in front of the church, church ladies fanning themselves with cheap paper fans imprinted with images of the Last Supper and the stately, baritone sermons of a white haired, grandfatherly pastor named Mose Bryum. I remember these and I remember something else; my dad sitting beside me in church.
Even if he had worked the graveyard shift on Saturday night, Dad would come in, get cleaned up, and drive us to church. Back then, jeans and t-shirts on Sunday morning were unheard of; children wore “church clothes” every Sunday, and Mom always made sure that our hair was combed, our ties were straight, and our shoelaces were tied. Dad kept our shoes shined, and would make sure we didn’t get them dirty by carrying us in from the gravel parking lot. Our feet never hit the ground from the car until we were inside the church.
I remember his arm around me, his hand on my knee. I’d turn his hand palm up in my lap and trace the lines, calluses and scars I found there. I didn’t realize it at the time, and he probably didn’t either, but Bud was living an example of the love of God the Father, letting me experience that presence in a flesh and blood way, in a way that a child can understand. God says through the prophet Isaiah that He has “graven us on the palms of His hands”, and as I heard about God’s provision for me, I saw it in the landscape of my father’s hands. I will never forget that. He showed me that he saw worship with the church body as a priority. It shaped who I am.
I think that’s important for a man to take that initiative because it’s our job to take care of our children, mind, body and soul. I believe one of the biggest problems we see in families today is the absence of a good, Godly man that is a living example of God’s love to his own children. Watch any talk show or news story dealing with teen crime or children out of control, and look for the common denominator; where’s the father?
Walk into most churches today, and you will see that the majority of the adults attending are women. Why? Well, part of it is the fault of church itself. Churches need to do a better job of getting men involved. I know back in the day, my dad and a lot of other men did the building maintenance, the cleaning and the landscaping. There were things to do; things to keep guys busy. Of course there are still things to do, but now, it’s just easier to hire some one than to look for volunteers. The trouble is, men need something to be involved with, or they lose interest.
But men are also inherently lazy, and if they think that the kids are being taken care of, they will let someone else do it. It’s easy to stay at home, go fishing, golfing, work on the car, etc., while the wife or the grandparents take the kids to church. But we have to make the effort guys- our sons look to us to know how to be men and our daughters look to us to know what to expect from men. They learn from us, and judge their own worth by the amount of time you take to spend with them. Don’t put it off- your children are growing up QUICK. I know you’re busy- we all are. But, it’s easy to lose an entire generation while we’re in the process of getting our own lives together.
So take the time guys. Get up on Sunday morning and take your children to church. Be the pastor, priest and protector of your family. Don’t wait until there are older. Don’t let someone else do it. It’s your job, your responsibility. Every child comes into this world as a blank page. Somebody will write on that page- guaranteed. Nature abhors a vacuum, and the page will get filled with something. Words of wisdom or garbage graffiti; something will fill them up. When the page has been filled, it’s too late to squeeze your influence into the picture. Are you going to do it, or let someone else?
