Read Excerpts
Please enjoy the following two excerpts from selected chapters.
FROM THE CHAPTER ENTITLED: “The Picture”
“I’ve been staggered by the number of men and women across the country whose most positive memory of their father was this: ‘I saw him reading his Bible and heard him praying for me.’ ”
- John Trent
It hangs in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms of our children. A gift from my wife just after our twins were born: a beautifully-framed painting of a little boy asleep in his bed while his dad kneels beside him, head in his hands, praying.
What makes this piece of art all the more powerful is that beyond the bedroom window just behind the father is a scene playing out we never see. Outside that window, which itself frames a beautifully moonlit night, is the image of an angel overseeing the moment from the heavens, protecting the home by pushing back the darker image of the one who desires to destroy the child.
It is an angel of protection, sent even as the father seems to be asking for the Father’s hedge of shelter over his boy’s life.
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Pictures simply tell the story of your life.
On occasion, I’ll sit on the floor and pull out and look at hundreds of pictures. I’m in awe of the wonder on their faces. Personalities are perfectly captured by film; one can tell a lot about a person by his expressiveness in pictures. You look at pictures of your children and their countenance reveals, “I can do anything.” Their passion for life, their playfulness, serenity, and joy—earmarks of their lives at that time.
I may laugh at some pictures, recalling what was going on in August 1999 when six-month-old Joshua was so mad that he was crying because twin Caleb was gnawing on his bald little head with a toothless grin and not letting him get up. I may sigh at four-year-old Noah with nose pressed up against the glass of the back door, grasping a handful of weeds he’d gathered for his mom.
And, I am reminded of what role I play as a father when I see pictures of the boys in diapers placing their little feet inside my shoes.
That’s the one that stuns me. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in this one, where their little feet are swallowed by my size elevens, only seven words are being said. They are seven of the biggest, scariest, most challenging words a father could ever hear.
Listen closely. Can you hear them?
“I…want…to…be…like…my…daddy.”
Perhaps you have heard those words yourself. When you read those words, and imagine your children saying them, how does that make you feel?
God calls us to be the kinds of fathers our children desire to emulate. So, when our children copy us, are they copying men who desire to be more like God? Boy, I sure hope so.
Because for them to copy a godly father, I have to copy The Father. I have to be more like Him every day. And, I’ll admit, that’s tough.
I am encouraged that every day my boys grow older, I understand more and more why my own father knelt by my bed to pray over me. Many times when he thought I was asleep, I could hear his heartfelt petitions to our Heavenly Father to cover me with His protection and lead me with His guidance.
My goal in life is that my own sons can say the same about me. To hear me pray for them, and to live my life in such a way they understand that my prayer life and my daily life go hand-in-hand to teach them about who God is and why we need Him so.
And, each night as I make my way down the hallway and slip into the darkness of their bedrooms, I am reminded by a picture on the wall and the importance of a father praying over his sons. There is power in prayer. There is protection in prayer. There is guidance in prayer.
Someday, the truth of that painting will be revealed to them. And even if they don’t have that picture hanging in the hallways of their own homes, their lives will provide the living portrait of them as a father, praying over their own sons.
FROM THE CHAPTER ENTITLED: “Rescued”
And then there was Animal Kingdom, with its Kilimanjaro Safari, Festival of the Lion King and It’s Tough to Be a Bug adventures.
Oh, and of course, there was Expedition Everest.
And the reason you’re reading this story.
Everest is a ride through the Himalayas, featuring hairpin turns, eighty-foot drops, a “broken” track at mountain’s peak, whereupon you are sent reeling backwards into a cave fortified by the mountain’s guardian, the mysterious—and very scary—Yeti. Those of us in the deep South simply call him “Big Foot.”
There are few things in life my boys and I like better than a good roller coaster. So, for us, we’re all like kids in a giant candy store at Disney World. We rode every single one, but we’ll never forget Expedition Everest.
For two hours we waited in a line that weaved through a typical Tibetan village, complete with authentic wooden wind chimes and a walk that sends you back in time. As you enter the main building, which houses the coaster, you wind through a museum dedicated to the scientists and trailblazers who have chased the Yeti for decades.
Finally, you get to the ride and you ascend the Himalayas and ride at break-neck speed toward the top of the mountain, only to be stopped by the aforementioned “broken” track. With no where else to go, you are sent backwards into the cave where this huge Yeti awaits. Of course, you narrowly escape his grasp as the ride whisks you away and down an eighty-foot, hair-raising drop.
In the end, the adrenaline is pumping and I’ve got to tell you, I couldn’t wait to jump out and high-five my boys and belly-bump my wife. It was incredible.
Trouble was, Caleb and Joshua were more excited and less focused than I was. Caleb jumped out first from the car directly behind mine. As he did, he began walking backwards in front of my car and without warning he disappeared.
I’m not kidding. He disappeared.
In the blink of an eye he had stepped off the platform between the cars and fallen about 10 feet underneath the coaster and the track. The only way I can describe the next few moments would be utter chaos.
Immediately, I was on my belly reaching down to grab my son, not knowing how long it would be before he and I would be electrocuted or run over by the coaster. I could hear my wife screaming, and feet running across the deck, but all I could do was focus on Caleb.
I’ll never forget the look in my son’s eyes. He was afraid, but he never panicked. Although he had fallen straight down, he was trying to scramble back up on the track toward the deck. He never stopped looking at me. Or reaching for me.
As I stretched out as far as I could for him, a highly-trained worker slapped the emergency stop button so that the coaster wouldn’t move forward.
Finally, I was able to grab the hood of his sweatshirt, and, in as composed a voice as I could muster I told Caleb, “I’ve got you, son. I won’t let you go. Everything’s going to be alright.”
So, it wasn’t long before Caleb climbed up high enough on his own where I was able to get more of his sweatshirt in my grasp and pull him up to safety. While the gathering crowd applauded and his mother hugged him tight, Caleb simply took a deep breath, and smiled.
And, despite all he’d been through, Caleb still had to endure his father taking pictures of the paramedics bandaging his two small scrapes and the park representative presenting him with a stuffed Yeti. One lady sitting close to me as I snapped picture after picture, smiled, “Your wife scrapbooks, doesn’t she?”
“Yep.”
Finally, with all the excitement coming to an end, and the crowd of people disbursing, Caleb pulled me aside, looked up at me with those big blue eyes and whispered, “I knew you’d get to me, Dad.”
Oh, for us to have that kind of faith in our Heavenly Father!
When life goes south and nothing goes right for us, what then? What are we supposed to do when we fall to great depths of despair and sin? Do we sit at the bottom, feel sorry for ourselves, and wait to die? Or do we scramble up to meet the hand of the Father who is reaching down to pull us out of the hole?
I have a friend who continues to scramble after that hand of God, despite walking a tough road the last few years. In the span of three years, he has buried his beloved wife, lost his business, and experienced a severed relationship with his youngest daughter. In fact, he finally took custody of that daughter’s young son because of several poor decisions she had made in life.
If that wasn’t enough, yesterday I had to tell my friend that same twenty-five-year-old daughter was dead.
As he fell himself, straight back in the chair in which he was sitting, air gushed out of his lungs. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, or how I felt at that moment. But, he never panicked—he just asked me to pray.
So we did.
Isaiah said it all when he wrote the verse that identifies this chapter. Only a God as big as our God can reach down as low as we are and pick us up. And only a God as big as our God would be willing to reach down to the places we fall sometimes and be willing to pull us up out of that mire; then, only a big God would dust us off, clean us up, and give us the love and reconciliation only a big God can give.
And that big God was who my friend wanted to talk to when he had had about all he could stand.
But as I think about Caleb that day, when he looked at me and said with all certainty, “I knew you’d get to me, Dad,” I can’t help but wonder: when I fall, am I that sure about God’s ability—or willingness—to “get to me”?
In Isaiah, as the prophet warned the nation of Israel about God’s hatred of compromise, it was time for them to make a choice: love God and serve Him with all their hearts or face dire consequences.
Its hypocrisy had caused Israel to fall to the depths of a second-rate nation. Once a powerful and major player, it had become susceptible to defeat to other nations.
Indeed it had fallen to an all-time low.
But Isaiah understood some things about the character of God. While He can administer judgment, He is merciful; while He can discipline His children, He shows grace. He equally dispenses justice and forgiveness.
And with that knowledge, Isaiah penned one of the most comforting verses in all of Scripture. Let me remind you of what 41:13 says:
“I, your God, have a firm grip on you and I’m not letting go. I’m telling you,
’Don’t panic. I’m right here to help you.’”
Guess what, Dad? You’re going to fall. You’re not always going to win the big contract, or be your kid’s hero, or your wife’s knight in shining armor. You won’t always, if ever, be the king of the hill.
But one thing you can count on is the promise from Isaiah’s writings that God is not going to let go of you when you fall. Even a chapter before (40:31) Isaiah encouraged his people: “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings of eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (NIV).
Maybe that will encourage you, too.
After all, we can all use a lift every now and then. Why not get one from the strongest, most loving hands there are? He will lift you up. He will stabilize you. He will renew your strength.
Then you can be the dad and husband that makes your family feel on top of the world.
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