For My Dad

“How much does lawn service cost around here?” my dad asked.  He doesn’t live “around here,” nor would he ever hire a lawn service.  “I’m not sure, Dad,” I respond as I try to come up with a reasonable figure.  He continues, “Did you notice how long it took him to mow the lawn next door?”  Suddenly, I feel very ill-prepared, unobservant, aloof to the activity of my own neighborhood.  “It’s a pretty fast mower,” I offer this, my only observation of the very large and very loud mower that visits my neighbor’s home every Wednesday, right during nap time.

I know I have failed him in giving the necessary numbers so he can calculate how much money a lawn service might draw in a given day.  Of course, he timed the complete job.  Fifteen minutes- edging included.  But my inability to provide any speculation on the cost of the service leaves the math equation stranded.

This is who my dad is.  I believe the world appears to him in numbers.  As a child, he would challenge his children to estimate how many cars we would see on long trips to visit our grandparents.  This would lead to your head bobbing back and forth at a sickening pace, counting cars flashing by on the opposite side of the highway so as not to miss a single one.  He can predict arrival times to the minute better than Mapquest.  It is likely he knows how many ceiling tiles there are in every building he regularly visits.  He counts how many fireworks there are in large displays and how much money we watched go up in smoke.  He knows multiple routes to every city he has ever visited and can recall what gas station or mom and pop store used to be on the corner of every street he’s ever travelled down.  I’m not kidding.  His most frequently asked questions of any visitor is, “How did you get here and how long did it take you?” and you better be prepared with an answer lest you appear completely senseless of the base facts of life.  He often responds with something on the lines of, “I visited such-and-such-city once, back in the eighties.  Is that diner still there on the corner of Blah-blah and Blah-blah street?”  Please don’t respond with a hesitant “I think so…,” especially if you currently preside in said city.

He’s a smart guy- my dad.  And he got there by being curious.  If he was a cat, he would’ve been dead long ago.  He likes to know where things came from, how much time it took to make them, how many people were involved start to finish, and what kind of turn-around they are getting on their investment.

He’s asked a lot of questions and in return received a lot of answers, so as a young child, I recognized he was someone you go to with your own questions.  I set out to read the Bible cover to cover when I was probably around the age of 8 or 9.  I had a little notebook that I wrote my questions in and I remember approaching my dad with them one night.  I can picture him standing by the front door, so it was likely he had just gotten home from work (a teacher of math and science), as I rattled off my questions.  I don’t remember all of my inquiries, but I do remember asking him where the Garden of Eden was and what were the “Nephilim.”  We had a discussion about my questions, many of which he answered with ease. I remember him also telling me that I should ask our pastor some of the questions.

And I remember he was smiling.  Maybe it was because he saw himself- his own curiosity- reflected in his child.  Maybe it was because he was pleased I was reading the Bible.  Or maybe he was glad that I had confidence enough in him to have the answers to such important questions.

I am thankful that I have a father who I can confidently go to with my questions about matters of God. If there are Christians who have been accused of blindly following their faith, you could not reasonably call my father one.  There is no way his questioning halted when he entered the church, studied the Bible, and lead his children in the path of faith.  It would be against his very nature.  There are those who claim that to have faith in Jesus one must be lacking in intelligence.  This argument is easily refuted in the embodiment of my dad.  He’s one of the smartest guys I know.  His intelligence is rooted in a Father that did not turn away His son’s questions, but revealed them in faith.

At the heart of getting an answer, is knowing of whom to ask.  If you are struggling in Calculus, it is unlikely you will find sufficient help from your gym teacher.  Likewise, when we struggle with belief; with life; with purpose; it is best to go to the One with all of the answers.  And yes, it is okay to start out with, “Are you even up there?” because He has an answer for that, too, and He will rejoice that you are finally letting Him answer that question.  

I am grateful that I have a father who not only has a lot of helpful answers, but who also directed me to my Heavenly Father who satisfies my own inherited need to question.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!    

Luke 11:11-13 “Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead?  Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion?  If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!”