Covenant Presbyterian Church

Early one morning, I went down to the basement looking for my dad. Only the stairwell light was lit, and upon reaching the bottom step I stopped, unsure whether to continue. I heard a low murmur, words that I could not make out. I crept around the corner and saw him kneeling against a dining room chair. He heard my approach and said quietly, "Son, I’m praying. Can you come back later?"

I saw this on several occasions. It always made me feel a little strange, as if my dad had another life, one in which I was not directly involved. Some years later, I found myself drawn to that same spot, the same old chair, the same activity. Between the two of us, the fabric on that old chair was probably a bit worn, the frame a little weakened.

Many times since then, I have wondered of the effect that boyhood image had upon me. Here was my dad - with whom I played ball, from whom I received many a spanking, who loved gifts, family, and church - kneeling in prayer. That image has taught me something concrete about fatherhood, about being a man, about God’s covenant.

One can read volumes about being a good father, master the right things to say in different circumstances, and have a litany of Bible verses to wield when occasion demands. None of these can replace the father who prays for his family. You see, the Christian father recognizes that the success of his parenting efforts, his hope for his children, and his need for wisdom to direct his family are gifts of God. He must seek them from his heavenly Father. I think that the most important part of fathering is the father’s learning that he needs to be fathered by God. A wife and children bring out the best and the worst in a father. Family life exposes his sins, known and unknown, past and present, as few things can. In the struggles of his wife and children, he sees his own struggles, his failures, and his need. A Christian father says, "I cannot do it. I am too sinful, too weak, and too inconsistent." He goes downstairs and prays.

What does he pray? He confesses his sins. He agonizes over the fact, which he now painfully knows to be true, that God visits the sins of the fathers upon the children. He sees his sins in his family. He does not despair, though, for he knows that where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. So, he prays God’s promises - not so that he can be relieved of his difficult fathering duties or feel better from the spiritual exercise - but because he knows that his sins cannot finally wreck his family. God will not let them, if he turns to the Lord in repentance, seeking God’s grace and mercy, and finding in his God the strength to pursue greater faithfulness. The fear and guilt of sin are not the dominant factors in the Christian father’s life; the hope of God’s grace and faithfulness are. He seeks God’s wisdom. He knows he cannot navigate his family through his expertise, charisma, or experience; the venom of Satan is too poisonous and the allure of the world is too deceptive for him to overcome. He cannot protect his family from them; the enemy is too insidious to be thwarted, however diligent he may be to warn, insulate, and isolate his family from worldly influences. Only God can save his family and strengthen him to lead his family. He goes downstairs and prays.

A praying man? Our culture ridicules the very notion. There is no God. You are sufficient. Consult the experts if you grow desperate. Medicate if all else fails. There is something extremely compelling about watching a grown man pray. This posture tells you more about him than a thousand conversations ever could. He is like the centurion who came to Jesus and asked the Savior to heal his beloved servant. When Jesus said he would come, the man said, "I am not worthy for you to come under my roof. I am a man under authority." Jesus marveled at his faith. Here was a man who manifested the quintessential quality of manhood. He was a man who knew his place in the world. Though he was a deft soldier, perhaps a force to be feared on the battlefield, he told Jesus, "Do not come to my house; I am unworthy, for I am a man under authority."

The reason western culture and many churches are losing their sons to the world, to underwear-exposing clothing styles, and to creativity-draining , guilt-imposing, and soul-destroying promiscuity is that we are not giving our sons the image of a praying man and father. What do you teach your son when you pray, when he sees and hears you praying? That no matter how physically strong you may be, successful, or otherwise self-sufficient, you are a man under authority. You have no wisdom other than that granted by heaven, no strength other than that given by the Rock, no hope other than in his mercy. Fathers, your sons are watching you. They are learning the nature of true manhood from you. Their entire future may very well be wrapped up in something as simple as seeing and hearing you pray, for you are teaching them more theology than a library of impressive volumes ever could. Do they see you going downstairs to pray? They must, for the world and their own hearts are constantly tempting them to self-sufficiency and God-independence, the two most dangerous traits of fallen manhood. A prayerless father is far more fatal for the family than a low-income, poor education, or a bad diet. A prayerless father is a graceless father, and a graceless father will produce a family that is powerless and purposeless. He will produce sons that do not know how to be men, who do not go downstairs to pray.

I am not nostalgic about seeing my father pray or finding myself years later praying in the same spot. There is something far more powerful at work here than nostalgia, or tradition, or just a son wanting to be like his father. God’s covenant is at work. A father prays because he believes God’s promises. He believes God’s promises more than he believes the world, or the promises of politicians, or the lies of secularism, or even his own failures. He believes God’s promises more than he believes the power of sin and the attraction of the world. These are real dangers, he knows, but he is not paralyzed by them. He knows that God’s promises to be a God to his children, to build the kingdom of Jesus Christ through them, and to defeat every thought raised in opposition to Jesus Christ are simply too strong for the world, the flesh, and the devil. In our daily battle with sin, we forget this. Sin is not the most powerful force on the planet; God is. His word and promise are more than able to arrest the spread of the worst sins, the most dreadful family traits, and the impact of a father’s past. Grace prevails. This is the reason every Christian father goes downstairs and prays. God has made a promise. Let the devil roar as he may. Let his sins trouble him as they may. Let the world lie, cover up, and deceive. God has made a promise to fathers - to be a God to you and to your children after you. That promise continues to shape the world, to shape you, and to shape your children, even long after you are gone.

I miss that old chair, but I have something more precious: the legacy of a father who believed and prayed God’s covenant. As sinful as I am, as many failures as I have as a father, I am a living testimony to the power of God’s covenant and of God’s faithfulness to honor those who honor him. I take no credit for this. It is all of grace. Some of you did not have such fathers. Perhaps you are the first ever in your family of what will become a line of praying fathers. You, like me, probably tremble at the thought of the responsibility you have. You should. You hold the future of your family in your hand: your sons and daughters, grandchildren, generations of church members. You are weary from the contest. Sin is strong. The world is deceptive. You have many failings. Many duties are pressing upon you. But there is one thing that the world neither has nor understands, something that Satan cannot defeat, a harbinger of hope for our sons. A father who goes downstairs and prays.