Lessons from My Father ...

Not everyone has a father on earth who sets an example for them of what God's love as a parent is really like.  Far too many people have traumatic experiences or empty voids where genuine 'father figures' should be.  I'm fortunate that my story is different, and that by a stroke of luck I was born to a dad who sets the fatherhood bar high enough that you know it has to be pretty close to God's intention.  On Father's Day it felt appropriate to spend time reflecting on some of the life lessons I've learned over the years from my own dad, all of which, in the end, reflect back to God.

You don't owe anyone.

Every dance I ever went to, my dad told me the same thing as I walked out the door: Just because your date bought you a ticket, or a corsage, or dinner, or drove you, you don't owe them anything.  You are in charge of you, and you don't owe them for taking you.  I know at the moment his goal was to empower me to protect myself from pressure from my dates, and it did.  But the lesson extended beyond that, and empowered me as an independent ruler of my own choices in all situations, with all people.  I have never felt that I've owed another person something of myself that I don't want to give.  I know my value, and I won't be convinced by pretty words or ugly threats to take any actions I don't want to, regardless of context or circumstance.  Some call it stubbornness, and I'm sure that personality trait is involved as well.  But I like to think a large part of it is that single sentence reminder each time I walked out the door with anyone - No matter what, you don't owe them anything.  The message was clear: I am my own person, my choices are my own to make, and if others don't like it, that's their problem, not mine.  Because at the end of the day, I only answer to myself and God.  (Galatians 1:10)

You can do anything.

As the dad of two girls, and an attorney in the specific field of discrimination, my father had an inside track on why instilling this from a young age was so important, but he didn't do it alone.  Both of my parents showed and told us regularly that women were every bit as capable as men, and that we should never let anyone discredit us for something out of our control, like our gender.  I wanted to be president, I wanted to change the world, I wanted to make my opinions known and heard and followed, and I knew without question that I could.  That lesson may have backfired on them when I extended it to not letting my age disqualify me from knowing how to parent, and began challenging their own rules and consequences, but what can I say?  It's what they taught me, and it's served me well, whether in a classroom full of vocal guys or a conference room with people of higher clout.  (Galatians 3:28)

Love without judgement.

My dad lives life on the straight and narrow.  The stereotypical 'choir boy', if the choir boy were a tow-headed country boy with a muskrat trap under his arm.  He's kind, personable, doesn't drink or swear or lie; he's the epitome of professional at all times.  Yet he doesn't require that of the people he surrounds himself with.  His family, friends, and co-workers span all lifestyles and personalities, from the off-color to the proper, from the drinker to the teetotaler, from the bachelor to the family man, and as a child I watched with interest as my straight-laced squeaky clean father loved deeply, laughed loudly, and listened intently to people who were nothing like him - without losing any sense of who he was.  His friendship was never conditional - no one had to clean up their act for him, he took them how they came and found value in them just as they were.  His choices were for him, their choices were for them, and the two didn't have to be the same.  I'm wired like my dad - I watch my words, I'm polite to a fault, and chocolate is my biggest vice.  I'm so grateful he taught me to exist comfortably in spaces and with people who are vastly different from me, and to allow for diversity of thought and action in the lives of those around me, loving people for who they are without judgement.  (Romans 14:4-12)

Be skeptical.

A favorite family story is when I carefully prepared a magic show for my dad, I believe for Father's Day, actually, and at the end of each trick instead of acting amazed, as one does for a child's magic show, he proceeded to analyze and expose exactly how I had done each one.  At that particular time, I hated his skepticism - it really ruined my magic show!  But in life overall, I've appreciated a mindset that seeks to find the truth above the glitz of a showy performance.  Now more than ever, the ability to sift through opinion and rhetoric and outlandish claims to something tangible and true has proved invaluable.  My dad is never swayed by the show, but waits for the proof, and it allows him to remain a steady source of perspective in the midst of what could be chaos.  I believe a bit more in the magic of things than he might, but always with a healthy dose of his skepticism that keeps me from being swept away by whims, fads, or persuasive personalities.  In our faith more than anything, how important it is to be able to tell the difference between truth and trick!  (1 Corinthians 10:15)

Think deeply.

In a similar vein, my father taught me to think deeply about the world around me, and not grow complacent in my knowledge.  Maybe it's a lawyer thing, but conversations with my dad have always been deep dives, not surface level wading.  I learned from him that there's value in pondering things, in seeking to go further in my understanding.  He's always reading new things, listening to new ideas, questioning concepts he's long held to be true.  An NPR broadcast in human form.  My dad has always been one for a deep philosophical discussion, and what it taught me is that I don't need to be afraid to have my thoughts challenged.  Whether I agree with something or not, I can only come out better on the other side if I take the time to engage with it, discuss it, and think critically about it.  There are no easy answers in this world, and as soon as we think we know something, that's likely when we need to dig a little deeper, listen a little closer, and challenge our perspective a little more.  (Proverbs 2:2-5)

Faith is personal.

I went through a period of my life where I lost my appreciation for this lesson.  It didn't feel zealous enough for me; it seemed too content with potential differences in theology.  To be fair, I think over time my dad has learned there are times being more public with our faith can be important.  But the lesson I got from him at a very young age was that above all, faith is personal.  The Bible bears it out - David's faith is shaped in the solitude of his time on the run, the religious are told to pray in private, the great heroes of the faith were folks whose relationships with God were built in the quiet of a field, in the privacy of their homes, in moments of personal significance.  My dad's faith was built that way.  Sure, he prayed out loud before dinners, and attended church, and spoke about God.  But I know his faith was shaped in the quiet moments away from us all, the times I caught him praying when he didn't know anyone was watching.  Faith isn't a church thing to my dad, it's a God thing.  Church is a tool, but God is the goal, and his faith is something personal between God and him.  He gave us that freedom too - my faith growing up didn't have to look like his.  He understood innately that it would be something unique between me and God that he wouldn't need to know, or dictate, in order to trust.  As I've gained more faith experience, I've returned to this insight and example, and I strive daily to match it for my own children.  (Romans 14:22 MSG) (ESV)

Life is beautiful.

I'll always remember the day our family was driving along a rural road just before tornado weather hit, and my dad, who was driving, suddenly squealed and pulled the car over to the side of the road.  He hopped out of the car, looked up in amazement at the sky, colored with a uniquely beautiful pre-storm hue, and continued to excitedly exclaim in giddy incredulity at the beauty of it.  When my dad sees something incredible, he lets it be known.  It seeps into his spirit in a child-like and contagious way.  And in spite of all the things which ought to jade us in life, he never ceases to see awe-inspiring beauty in the world.  To watch him with a baby is to be in the presence of God - adoring and enamored and engaged to the point where the baby is the only thing that exists in that moment.  I've had the privilege of walking with him through a forest in the Midwest, along a beach in Florida, and across the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, and the look in his eyes is the same in each - it's the look of someone simply in love with God's creation.  Luckily for me, this lens seems to be genetic, because he's passed it on to me.  (Psalm 19:1-6)

And there you have it - a few life lessons from my father to me, and now to you.  A few truths to remember as we navigate this world.  You don't owe anyone.  You can do anything.  Love without judgement, be skeptical, think deeply.

Faith is personal, and life is beautiful.  Enjoy them both this Father's Day and beyond.