Fatherhood; both incredible gift and heavy burden. For all the pain and sacrifice, I would trade it not for the world. As with nearly all good things, it comes not easily, nor should it. Such a task is not to be taken lightly, nor forfeited for want of ease. 'Tis not for the soft, this joy of fatherhood. Each day I stand in an endless sea faced by a towering mountain.
In this sea of the world, the riptides of culture threaten to rip my children away, ebbing and flowing, swirling and unpredictable. Jagged rocks lurk just below the falsely pristine surface of the waters, neither eager nor reluctant to smash, break, cripple. Tides sneak in, insidious and seemingly innocuous, hidden in plain sight, to overwhelm the careless. Storms brew with gale-force winds. Vicious creatures roam the waters, hungry for prey, eager to slash and bite, tear and rend.
And beyond the sea, the mountain of tomorrow's future looms in front of me. Not my mountain, but theirs. How will they climb it, with it's hidden crevices and treacherous passes? It's cold, hard cliffs, seamless and unscalable, armed with slides and falls poised to sweep away the unaware. Chilling winds blow hard, unfeeling and uncaring. The peak is impossibly high, the valleys incredibly deep.
And here I stand.
Holding on for all I'm worth, striving to not hold them back. Flailing against waves and wind, rock and stone. Battered and bloodied, cold and tired. Desperate in victory as I realize today's battle against the sea is over, while the mountain of tomorrow looms tall. Today a draw, tomorrow to be hard fought.
I'm not prepared for this.
I am neither seafarer nor Sherpa. I've survived the sea thus far, though not of my own accord. I've scaled many tomorrows, solely by the grace and strength of God. Neither makes me an expert. I've not sailed far enough nor climbed high enough to consider myself either guide nor captain. The journey is long, the way is hard, and ready or not, I am on it. Learning as I go. Through victory and defeat, success and failure, healing and injury.
My only hope is that I am not alone. There is One who sees across the sea, who looks down from atop the mountain. He has overcome the world. He is there in tomorrow, waiting to take my hand. To hold my head above the raging waters. To pluck me safely from slippery shale. My every breath He gives me. My every step He guides.
I am not prepared. But He is.
He has lead the generations before me and shown them the way. It matters not if I be ill-equipped and poorly trained, for it is not I who shall be in the lead. He shall go before me, a pillar of fire by night, a pillar of smoke by day. Blessed children, follow Him, for He will mark your path. He will hold back the rushing waters, He will lift you up on wings of eagles. For Him the sea is neither wide nor deep, the mountain neither tall nor steep.
We will stand strong.
In His hands we rest. He is our comfort, our shelter, our refuge in the storm. As my fathers before me, from Him shall I gain my strength. Travail it may be, painfully difficult to be sure, but through Him I can do all things. The sea shall not take you. The mountain shall not stop you. I will not let go, for it is my Father's hand over mine in which yours rests. I shall turn my eyes from the perils and gaze upon the Son. For just as the Father guided His Son, so surely shall He guide me, and through me, you.
I fear not the sea. I dread not the mountain. I will be strong and courageous. I will follow the Lord. Together--you and I and He--shall stand. Though the sea may rage, the mountain may roar, we shall stand.
And tomorrow to fight again.
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