Covenant Presbyterian Church

Over twenty years have passed since my father went to be with the Lord. Memories of him, real memories rather than hagiographic symbolism, remain important to me. I can remember him hitting fly balls to me, playing basketball in the backyard, and reading the Bible to us. I have a distinct memory of seeing him on his knees early one morning when I interrupted his devotions. Beyond these, the physical sensation of his whiskers, the delightful scraping of his face against mine, has lingered strongly. I did not know as a child and even as a young teenage boy sitting in his lap that such a small thing would make a lasting impression, that it would establish a permanent connection between me and him. Even now I can feel them. I can feel his warmth.

During my years as a pastor and before then working with youth, I have become convinced that the glue that keeps life and faith together, that keeps families together, is affection. This is not to discount the cardinal family virtues of instructing children in the faith, providing leadership and discipline for them, and protecting them from harmful influences. These are the foundations of the Christian family; without them, a Christian family does not really exist. Alone, however, they are insufficient. Our children, like ourselves, are physical-spiritual beings. And as such, they need love, affection, and warmth. Parents, you can plant the seed of biblical religion in your children’s lives, but that seed will not usually flower unless it enjoys the sunlight of affection. Without affection, biblical religion will be sterile, unattractive, and ultimately frustrating.

I say biblical religion purposefully. Faith based upon the Bible requires the soil of affection to blossom. A purely formal, ritualistic religion, such as practiced by Romanists and Anglicans, requires little affection to perpetuate its externalism, its forms. A feeling-based, results-oriented faith, as one finds in weakened American Protestantism, institutionalizes emotionalism; even if affection is somewhat lacking in the home, ample outlets exist to encourage a feeling-oriented life. But full-orbed biblical religion, with its equal emphasis upon creed and practice, heart and form, absolutely demands and powerfully inspires affection in the home and in the local congregation. Consider, for example, the inseparable relationship between providence and human responsibility; personal love (God’s) is required to keep providence from becoming fatalism and human responsibility from leading to frustrated piety, a morbid focus upon self that frequently tends toward perfectionist attempts at self-improvement. The same can be said about the relationship between faith and works; love is required to prevent faith from growing cold and works from becoming mechanical. The only-apparent conflict between law and grace is easily resolved by love; God’s love has given us his law that we might serve him, and grace is the fruit of his love to empower us to obey him cheerfully. Biblical religion’s emphasis upon worship that is guided by Scripture also requires the foundation provided by God’s love for us, for in love he has revealed to us the worship that pleases him, and because of love for him we gladly submit to him. In other words, love, God’s eternal, gracious, consuming, penetrating, and fructifying love for us and our grace-empowered, thankful, and life-wide love for him, is the cement of biblical religion.

And thus we come to the Christian home. If, for example, you constantly argue with your spouse, create an aroma of materialism in your priorities, or speak regularly with an authoritarian, demanding tone of anger, bitterness, and frustration, this is the impression your children will have of God. And they will run from him, for in running from him they are seeking to escape from you. If you are not regularly, tenderly, and affectionately talking with them, even when they frustrate you, you may control them for a time, but they will not have any confidence of your love, desire to approach you for help with their struggles, or to heed your advice. They will eventually seek to throw off you control. And especially in households that are committed to the Reformed faith, lovelessness in parents is an open door into which Satan rushes to create despair in children. They see the hypocrisy - with all the high and lofty talk about God, his sovereignty, the power of Christ, the glories of the Reformed faith, and the weaknesses of other churches - where is the power? How are we any better than others? Your children may hear your words faintly, but your life is screaming at them.

Now it is certain that no parent is perfect, and I am not describing utopianism. There is no perfection anywhere this side of heaven. But here love and grace enter where sin abounds. Your children will become frustrated and perhaps grow to hate you if you demand a perfection from them that is so evidently lacking in you. What should you do? Love demands that we be patient with our children and carefully explain to them our convictions and practices. Love demands that they see us broken over our sins, seeking the same grace and love of God to which we would lead them. Love demands affection, in word and deed. It is a hard battle you are fighting, Christian parents, and it is a challenge to woo our children to join it. Many voices are calling them to take an easier path, the path of gratification, tolerance, and compromise. They will never be persuaded to shoulder such a cross through words alone. Our children must see in us a refuge of love and understanding, of affection and kindness. If we do not give it to them, they will find it somewhere. It is inevitable. Every promiscuous young person I have ever encountered sought twisted love because they were not finding true love in the home. It would be too much to universalize this statement, but it is a reliable observation of our corporate experience down through generations. If covenant children witness a genuine, sacrificial, and affectionate love in their parents, they will usually rest content in that love and rarely seek illegitimate outlets. The reason is obvious. Under such love their views of God as their patient, caring, and kind heavenly Father are given an appropriate environment to blossom. The covenant of grace is made warm and attractive. In such parents, truth and love, creed and practice attractively, persuasively, and warmly meet.

Fathers, this is why your whiskers are so important. Our heavenly Father is a speaking God, to be sure. He has given us a wondrous, challenging, and comprehensive revelation of his will for our lives. The doctrines and practices of the Bible have nurtured and challenged believers across the entire spectrum of different spiritual, emotional, and intellectual attainments. The Bible is shallow enough for a baby and deep enough for an elephant. How does our heavenly Father relate to us as we swim? First, he is under no delusion as to our abilities and weaknesses. He knows we are dust. And he is therefore extremely patient and long-suffering with us, giving us regular expressions and tokens of his love and desire for us. When we fall, he does not scream; he invites. When we sin, he does not usually thunder; he promises mercy. When we struggle to understand, he does not chide our ignorance or mock our weakness; he gives us his Spirit and encourages us to have a teachable spirit. He rubs us with his whiskers. He fills our hearts with his love, confidence of it and encouragement through it. Many, many images God gives us of himself in Scripture are designed to testify of his deep and abiding love: Shepherd, Husband, Savior, Provider, and, supremely, our Father. And his love is never empty sentiment. It sometimes comes with chastisement and strong words of warning. These, however, are always given in the context and for the purpose of magnifying his love for us and leading us back to righteousness that we may enjoy his love.

There were seasons of rebellion in my life. God’s promises do not mean that covenant children will not struggle; sometimes they wander for a time. But something kept calling me back to my father’s whiskers, which have come to represent to me a winsome combination of truth and love, of religion with power, of my heavenly Father’s dealings with me. Many of you did not have an affectionate father, and perhaps you do not feel its necessity, that you can parent just fine without affection. You are wrong. Look at your heavenly Father. The faith he has given you is not a computer program; it is a warm, inviting, loving walk with him - with plenty of ups and downs, chastisements, and warnings to be sure, but, if you will take a wider view, with many more expressions of love and tenderness, inviting you to take him at his word, walk with him, and establish your complete happiness in him. Make this your paternal model. Love your children. Hug and hold them, in all seasons, at every age, even if the hour seems late in your relationship with them. Speak endearingly, hopefully, and patiently with them. Let them feel your whiskers.