It’s My Fault

Being a father is a radical responsibility. One that’s been neutered of its uniqueness and weight and reduced to a mere luxury of the human economy. Well, we may have produced an economy of hard working men (and women), but we’ve also enabled a generation of slacker dads. Even the “good dads” are slackers. And I’m intent on not being one of them.

If my family is not praying enough or doesn’t know how to pray together, it’s my fault.

If my family lacks direction and inspiration and vision, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know what generosity and selflessness look like, it’s my fault.

If my children do not know God, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know what a hard working, faithful, loving, disciplined, kind, holy, gentle, patient, strong man looks like, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t feel secure about who they are, it’s my fault.

If my son doesn’t know how to be a real man, it’s my fault.

If my daughter doesn’t know how she’s supposed to be treated, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know what it feels like to be loved and what real, sacrificial love looks like, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know what forgiveness and mercy look like, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know how to respect authority, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know that the hard stuff in life is the stuff most worth doing, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know to pursue truth over comfort and faithfulness over success, it’s my fault.

If my children don’t know what humility and honesty look like, it’s my fault.

If my house does not serve the Lord, it’s my fault.

If I, as their father, don’t do these things, who will? Who will? If it’s not my responsibility, whose is it? My wife has unique responsibilities of her own and many of these others we fulfill together. But ultimately, in my family, if these things don’t happen, it’s my fault.