This isn't a lesson, and you don't have to read any further, but it is my hope that you do. A little over a year ago I had a conversation with one of our men about regrets. I said I didn't have any, but that wasn't entirely true. Many years ago (almost fourteen to be exact), I had a epiphany; regrets are nothing more than a lack of faith in God's promise to work all things for good. I realized that I couldn't go back in time to redo things, nor could I apologize enough to make things right. This is especially true of being a father. I truly believe that regrets rob us of our present, but as of late, due to being stuck at home, it seems I have lots of moments. So, if you'll excuse me for being a little too transparent, I'm going to air one regret. This regret is from my childhood. I know that was something akin to when dinosaurs roamed the earth, but believe it, or not, I wasn't always a father. This regret will seem silly, and trite, but it is real. As with all regrets, this one begins with the magical phrase; I WISH...
I wish I'd gone to Antartica.
When I was a wee young lad, I had dreams of going to Antartica. I know that's not very spiritual, but for me, it was something I dreamed about, planned for, and even saved pop bottles for.
I was in the sixth grade, and had just read a book about Roald Admunson the first man to make it to the south pole. I'm not sure if I was ten or eleven when I began dreaming of going to the south pole, but I do remember daydreaming about it. In my passion for all things Antarctic, I'd watched a science fiction movie about people at the south pole, and I designed my own snow tractor. In my mind, I didn't need a motor, I could run the tracks using my old bicycle. I would build it out of plywood, which is why I needed pop bottles. My dad had all the saws and tools, so I could construct it in the back yard. I drew up plans, saved up pop bottles, and read everything I could find about Antarctica. One day my sixth grade science teacher caught me drawing my snow tractor in class. He asked me what I was doing and I told him. Instead of dashing my dreams with reality, he challenged me to keep on planning. Never once did I feel as if he didn't believe me. I told him how I would make my way through Mexico, Central America, and then all the way down through South America. From there, I would leave Argentina and make my way by ship to Antarctica. I believed I could do it...
Until Dad said; No!
I never made it to the South Pole, but to this day I can't resist a news article about the ice bound continent. When I pass this vale, my one regret will be that I didn't make it to Antarctica.
So what does Antarctica have to do with fatherhood? It has to do with remembering you were a child once, and you weren't always a father. I keep talking to you about time, about talking with your children, but do you listen to them? Do you listen to them with lifeless ears, dulled by years of unfulfilled dreams, and the clamor of reality, or do you remember a time when you weren't always a father. Over the years I have counseled couples, and even young men about the course of their lives. Sadly many people spend their lives wishing they'd married someone else, done something else, lived somewhere else, when the truth is they are actually looking for that child they used to be who they are inside. In the last lesson I challenged you to create the lap of a father. That should be a place where dreams are born, hope is given, and life is breathed into their soul. The problem is we grow older, and forget the dreams, and the passions that motivated us. We stop believing in ourselves, and the God of the possible.
The first casualty of growing older is the ability to believe. During this lockdown due to the Chinese Coronavirus, I see so many lifeless souls moving around without dreams or hope. Our society of fear locks people up in their homes, all under the premise that we're protecting the elderly and infirm. Liars, all of them. They just fear for themselves. Their dreams, aspirations, and hopes have been replaced with fear. NO, I don't believe being a Christian exempts me from getting the virus. I'm sure many good Christians have died from it. What being a Christian means is that you know this life isn't all there is. Death is inevitable, how you go there is the measure of your faith.
I had dreams of Antarctica, and being an explorer. I had dreams of being a superhero...I had dreams. So does every child. Every little girl, and little boy dreams big dreams. Almost every boy my age would take a towel and a clothespin and become Superman in their mind. I think it is the most awesome gift of God that we dream bigger than ourselves. I could tell you the dreams of my children, but I let reality scare me and them. Sure, I know my intentions were good, but I wonder how much more they could have done if I'd followed them a little bit.
So many people say that seeing is believing, but I know that God told us we have to believe before we can see. It is that inverse of faith that has created all of mankind's greatest achievements. That is the Kingdom gift we often leave behind as we grow older. My sixth grade science teacher, Mr. Pope looked at my sketches in a spiral notebook and didn't laugh. He encouraged me to do the research, and challenged me to know more about my dream. One day, that dream was torn out of the notebook, crumpled up and thrown into a trash bin.
Even though I would love to go to Antarctica today, my other childhood dreams have been realized. I joined the Air Force and worked on jet fighters, I served God all my life. Now, I have a wonderful wife, great children, and awesome grandchildren, a nice home, good vehicles, a bank account, and a loving awesome heavenly Father. I've done things that some of you would not believe, and been happy for the doing.
I just haven't been to Antarctica.
Do you know what your children dream of doing? It'll change over the years, but some dreams live on inside you despite being that grumpy, old, spoil sport called a father. I challenge you to do a trip down memory lane, and discover the boy you were before you became a father. Find a moment to share that with your child on the lap of the father. You'll probably never have this chance again to have so much time with your children, and to show them that you weren't always a father, but a wide eyed, goofy, dreamy child just like them. Eventually, we're all going to go back to work, get out in public, go to church, and do all the busy things we did before this pandemic. Have you stopped to remember what it was like before you were a father?
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