There’s my son.  It’s Good Friday, and so this morning I have been thinking about GoodFriday sort of things—the cross, Jesus, God giving up his Son, the fulfillment and end of the sacrificial system of the Old Testament that Hebrews speaks of—those things.  As I continued on that line of thinking, I began to realize the craziness of the cross, and the significance hit home in a way that it never has in my whole life:

Look at my son.  Do you know what I would never do?  Give him up.  For anything.  Ever.  EVER!

EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER !

Our minds can’t imagine this kind of sacrifice.  As an ok father, I have enough love for my son that the loss would cause me unimaginable pain, and I could never love you enough to loose him for you.  And yet God, a perfect father, did this.  Could you imagine how much that must have hurt. The Brian McLarens of the world who just dismiss the majesty of this act as “cosmic child abuse” miss that.  They miss, and don’t understand, the perfection of God, the Trinity, His love and Justice, the infinite ugliness of sin, and that Jesus, as God, was willingly taking on his own wrath.  God felt both pains: the loss of a son and the bearing of all human sin. My Lord and my God, we can not even begin to fathom the depth and richness of your love seen in the cross.

This is the centerpiece of our faith, the centerpiece of the Bible, and the centerpiece of time and eternity—that God became nothing, so that he could give us everything, by giving us himself.  The cross is offensive, foolish weakness, but to those who are being saved by it, it is life and power (1Cor. 1:18).  Happy Good Friday.

My son turned four a month ago so these are a little late.  But here are some shots of him at his birthday.  Better late than never.

It sucks to be a dad and a guy.  Weird statement?  Yeah I know.  But it makes sense when you think about how lame it is to be a guy, knowing how the guy mind works, realizing that the eyes in front of the minds of all those creatures are going to be looking at your daughter.  I say again!  It sucks to be a dad and a guy!  

Have I told you that I have a beautiful little girl named Avonlea Joy?  Greatest 6 year old girl ever (put a disputingcomment up and we can throw down).  The pic above (iPhone pic represent!) is her.  She’s spinning around in H&M after she put on her new dress and she was being absolutely adorable.   

So there in lies my dilemma.  As a dad I have a God given desire to love and protect her but as a guy I know that all guys suck.  They do!  It’s true.  Your son.  Your father.  Your brother.  Your uncle.  Definitely your uncle!  Your uncle for sure!  They are guys and that’s that.  We are sick people.  What?!  It’s our burden.  Thank God for his purifying grace and power to change.

So!  What do you do?  My daughter is only in the 2^nd grade and I’m already freaked out about little punk 7 year olds talking to her on the playground.  Excuse me young man, can you stop talking to my daughter and go play with a truck or something because my daughter doesn’t get to talk to boys until she’s older—older as, eligible for congress, older—so go play or wait a while. 

My daughter and I go on dates.  We went on a date last night and we had a great time.  I am trying to set her dating patterns now but she’s pretty clever and sometimes senses what I’m up to.  “Avonlea!  Of course all pretty girls wear nun habits and Muslim head coverings when they go on dates.  Look, it’s fun to be completely covered up from head to toe—It’s like hide and seek!  Why don’t you believe me?”  So my attempts don’t always work out, but I try.  So, I bought her a pretty dress, instead.   Shopping at the mall was the first event on our date schedule.

We walk and talk and get treats and go to the movies and get dinner and dessert.  Every time we get to a door I open it.  If I don’t—don’t worry—she definitely.  Definitely.  Definitely lets me know it.  And so I try not to forget.

Ultimately (jokes aside) I just want to be Jesus to her.  My hope is that she starts to learn now what if feels like to be treated like a daughter of the King.  Respected.  Encouraged.  Blessed.  Served.  Fought for.  Sought after.  Listened to.  Honored.  Hollywood is doing their darndest to give her a different picture of the perfect date so the challenge is no easy one.

A cheesy Renee Zellweger movie that I saw the other day gave me my new favorite line.  A father whose daughter was about to go to prom gives a Fatherly talk to the boy that’s going to take her.  Looking him right in the eye, he says, as stern and believable as can be, “You go ahead and have a good time tonight but know that whatever you do to her I will do to you.”  Yes!  That’s what I’m talking about!  That’s my line right there!  I love it.

Here’s a little picture of my daughter Avonlea.  These are the words for a song that I wrote about her perspective on the world (as I observed her perspective) when she was only 2.  It’s amazing how fitting that the lyrics still are—maybe more so now.  She’s totally special, you’ll see what I mean right away. 

My girl thinks She’s 17 walking around like she knows everything

Smelling the roses striking the poses

Everyone glancing watching her dancing

My girl she’s a beauty queen inside outside everything

She’s zany and sassy—quiet is passé

She’s living like she doesn’t care about anything

But when she walks down the street

She thinks everything’s so sweet

She thinks that life is nothing more than a big mystery

And she says

What a wonderful world scenes of plenty painted pink and purple

What a wonderful world laughter and love smiling faces everyone

Every place there is someone.  Everybody see like Avonlea

My girl lives in her dream world stars shine down in shimmer swirl

Magic places and fantasy faces

Sweepn’ her deep into nowhere land

My girl she’s my lovy dove heaven’s kiss coming from above

It’s a beautiful pleasure holding your treasure

Her smile to me is poetry

But when she walks down the street

She thinks everything’s so sweet

She thinks that life is nothing more than a big mystery

And she says

What a wonderful world scenes of plenty painted pink and purple

What a wonderful world laughter and love smiling faces everyone

Every place there is someone.  Everybody see like Avonlea

You know the day is passing by way too fast

Savor the moment then make it the past

Soon very soon it’ll be past noon

The heavens loom our star dims to soon

I read a sort of blog post just now from my friend Susan who was counseling a 20 year old girl considering an abortion.  I will give you some context and then share my thoughts.  Forgive me if you think it overly dramatic.  I’m kind of dramatic.    

Quoting the young woman, Susan said, “She is very anxious and scared because a pregnancy would complicate her life.” 

Amen, Amen!!!  Is “complicate” not the understatement of the century?!  As christians, can we just be stinking honest with people and tell them straight up, Heck Yes!  This child is going to mess you up!  Your life will never be the same.  He or she is going to emphasize every single weakness that you have and you are going to feel it every day for the rest of your life!  For the first time, you will reach a hand up in the air, and then you will bring it down until it clutches a fist full of your own firmly attached hair.  Then you will try to yank it out as if somehow that act will inspire civility within the young one in front of you.  And it wont.  You will ponder often, sometimes for hours, how it is possible for a human so small to be so brilliant and stupid at the same time.  And you will come up with nothing close to an answer!  And now you’re the one feeling stupid.    

And it’s going to be the biggest blessing that you have ever had.

You will never understand the love of Christ more than you will as a parent raising and caring for a human life.  At birth, your mind will be blown because you wont even be able contain the complexities of why you love this one that you have never even met.  So.  Incredibly.  Much.  You will try, but you won’t get it because it’s God.  We don’t get God.  You will learn about real love—not the Hollywood love—real love, the kind that lasts forever.  And you will read silly books, that really are silly, but you won’t care because you care so much for your kid.  And you will cling to Jesus!  Because, after you are done reading the silly books, and have done everything that they said, you realize that your kids are still bad.  But they’re so sweet.  It’s sin!  And Jesus paid for that (penal substitutionary atonement) and so you will understand more about the grace of God, causing you to cling to Jesus everyday—even more.  It’s awesome.  And it’s weird.  It’s amazing!  And it’s totally a mystery.  Most certainly, the choice to raise a child has never been regretted by any sane person.

Let’s just be honest with our friends that have questions:  Parenting is hell but the rewards are heaven.  Anybody care to concur …or not?