There is a lot of commentary back and forth following Tuesday’s post about the German family seeking political asylum in the U.S. so that they can have the freedom to home-educate their children. This has had me thinking of the role of parents, and of fathers, and reminded me of something that happened at our March Inside Outfitters meeting.

This is the monthly men’s breakfast and teaching that has been drawing a large group of men from Minnesota Teen Challenge, a residential drug rehabilitation program. Last month we were at my partner Earl’s church for the meeting and Earl shared a message aimed at the men who had grown up without a positive male role model in their lives. He described the hurt and frustration of knowing you were missing something but not being sure what it was, and of the resulting anger and defensiveness that caused so many men to reject God the Father and to understand what it meant to be instructed and guided.

Earl is one who knows first-hand what that is like. He grew up with a violent, abusive father who was still highly respected as a deacon in their church. Earl’s heart hardened with each outrage as he and his brother, sisters and mother absorbed each outburst. He grew violent himself and turned violently to crime and to drug and sexual abuse. He eventually found himself in Minnesota’s maximum security prison, where the gentle spirit of a visiting pastor finally showed him who is real father is and set him on the path to becoming a pastor himself. As he finished his message, he told the men that God has plans for each of them and they need to be open to receive instruction and blessing and set aside the anger and hurt that was getting in the way. Then he did something kind of unusual. He invited my pastor and I to come up front with him, then he invited the men (some in their 30s and 40s) who hadn’t ever had a word of support or acceptance from their own fathers to view the three of us as stand-ins, and to approach and receive that word from us.

About 40 men came forward, some almost staggering, and divided into three lines. As each man facing me approached I wrapped my arms around his shoulders or pulled his head down towards mine and said, “I’m proud of you. You’re doing the right thing.” Some started to shake so hard that it was difficult to hold them up. Many wept openly. I got pretty misty myself. As we finished I went over to Earl and put my arm across his shoulders and addressed the group.

“I didn’t have a father like Earl’s father,” I said. “He had his outbursts and his moments, but I always knew he loved me and supported me and I know the sacrifices he made for me.” I added, “I’ve thought from time to time how our lives might have been different if Earl had had my father and I had had his as we grew up. Where would I be today, and where would Earl be, if that had been the case?”

I paused to let that settle a bit. It was dead quiet. “Where would we be today?”

My pastor spoke: “You’d both be right where you are now, doing what you’re doing.”

“Exactly,” I said, “because God the Father’s plan is greater than anything we, or you, might have missed or might have done. You have the same opportunity — and He’s proud of you.”

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