A Tale of Three Chairs

When I think of my father, three chairs come to mind.

Rather ironic, because my father was one of the busiest, hardest working, most productive people I ever knew. A Bible scholar, college professor, and author who also served as interim pastor in many churches, loved to travel and teach internationally, and, even, for a few years, raised a vegetable garden on the side. Not a person who sat around a lot. But even so, there were three important chairs.

First, the chair in our living room at which I would often see him kneeling in prayer when I got up in the morning. One of my earliest memories. He loved God, and began his day kneeling before Him in worship. 

Many years later, in a different house, there was the chair across from his desk in his study, always waiting for either my brother or me to drop down in it and talk to him about our day. His study was at the top of the stairs we bounded up after school. His door was always open. You could just tell how he hoped we would stop in and talk. The message of that open door and empty, inviting chair? He loved us. 

And during our teen years, there was his chair at the head of our dining room table. I remember sitting around that table having surprisingly long conversations about all kinds of things. But actually mostly about God. As a teenager, I had a lot of questions. Many of them about faith. Why did God allow certain things to happen? What really happened at creation? What about those “seven days”? What about dinosaurs? Why did so many Christians act the way they did? If Christianity really works, why don’t Christians seem more—well, Christian? My list went on and on. Dad listened patiently, then always answered my questions very honestly. Many of the questions we asked do not have easy answers. In fact, some—no answers at all this side of Heaven. Always, he pointed us back to Jesus. He wanted us to love God above all else. It was so important to Him that he was willing to wade through the hard stuff with us, to listen and to love us no matter how challenging we were at times.

Christian fathers come in all sizes, shapes, and personalities, and in interests. But what do kids need most from them? To know three things: Their father loves God. He loves them. And he wants them to love God.

But isn’t what our kids need most in anyone who parents them—father, mother, grandparent, even close friend or relative who fills in the role of father when the father is absent in any number of ways? Or when the dad doesn’t yet know what it means to love God and thus love his children in godly ways. All who parent are flawed, imperfect. Except for our Heavenly Father, Who offers every one of His children this message: “ I love you, and I long for you to love me back.”