Becoming a Dad

By Stephen James and David Thomas
Relevant Books

The God Who is Sufficient

For much of my (Stephen) marriage, whenever Heather and I argue, there is often a consistent theme. Over the course of our relationship, as we have grown together, this conflict has become more honest, more accurate, and more loving. Usually this conversation has to do with a combination of two topics: money and time.

Since we’ve had children, Heather has been a stay-at-home mom, and it has been my responsibility to generate income. While God has been more than faithful in sustaining us financially, there have been times when resources have been scarce—in other words: We’ve been broke. And as with many couples, in my marriage, money issues can create fear. In my marriage, I generally fend off my fear with anger and shame. When tensions rise around money, I almost always feel humiliated. I tell myself, “If I was a real man, I’d provide better for my family.” To fend this off, I get angry with Heather, and it becomes far too easy for me to feel things like, “If you would just get a job . . .”

But money in and of itself is rarely the sole issue. While Heather is very supportive of my career and my interests, she is even more passionate about our family—especially our children. As the sole bread winner and a workaholic, I often commit to being over-committed. Heather has facetiously labeled this as “Palm Pilot-itis.” This is a debilitating aliment where the sufferer (me) is uncontrollably compelled to fill in any blanks in his calendar. This is compounded with the fact that I really love my work. It becomes easy for me to be gone from home. While my greatest passion is for my family, much of my identity and gratification comes from work.

When these two issues (money and time) come to bear in the same conversation, it is awful. It sounds something like this:

Heather will say, “I wish we had more storage space.” Which I will hear as, “If you were a real man, we’d have a bigger house.”

I’ll say, “I know. Me, too. Is there anything we can give away?” By that I mean, “I’m working as hard as I can. What more do you want?”

She will respond, “You haven’t spent any one-on-one time with the kids this week. I thought it would be a good chance for me to get away for a few hours and for you and the kids to connect.” Which I hear as, “Where have you been? You suck as a father.”

This is a vicious cycle that obviously hits some pretty sensitive places in my story. But I have talked to enough men to know that it is not all that unfamiliar.

I am convinced that this difference in opinion has some root in my sense of who I am. As strange as it may sound, I believe my perspective is rooted in the fear that I am insufficient. I can’t handle it on my own. I don’t have what it takes. The house is too small.

If I am a real man, I will provide for my family, my wife won’t ever need to work again, my children can attend the college of their choice, and my dog can be groomed at an upscale pooch parlor. The reality is that I can’t provide those things for my family. Nor would having that ability be the solution. Yet still I live as if I believe it is the solution. If only I made more, we’d be set. If only I could replace my beat-up Accord with something new, we’d be taken care of. My list goes on and on and on.

Eventually my thinking turns into, “God, why don’t You show up? How are we going to pay for unexpected repairs? How are these kids going to go to college? How will I fund our retirement?” Scripture tells the account of Habakkuk, a minor prophet who asked God a similar question and then waited for a response.

What’s God going to say to my questions? I’m braced for the worst. I’ll climb to the lookout tower and scan the horizon. I’ll wait to see what God says, how he’ll answer my complaint.

And then God answered: “Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision-message is a witness pointing to what’s coming. It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn’t lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It’s on its way. It will come right on time.” (Hab. 2:1-3, MSG)

WAIT! Wait? Wait on it because it’s on its way. I despise that message. While I may do some things well, waiting isn’t one of them. And waiting on God to show up is the most painful place of waiting. At times, it has seemed to me as if He has made a practice of showing up only some percentage of the time.

If you are anything like me, then you genuinely live as if you believe this to be God’s track record. The reality is that we have been perfectly cared for throughout our lives. It has often been on a different time frame than our own and in very different ways. The house is too small, the car won’t hold all those car seats, and the dad surely doesn’t have what it takes to parent all those little lives. The truth of the matter is that we really do have what it takes and exactly nothing to offer. You are more than a breadwinner and a sperm donor.

We as men are equipped with everything we need to love our children well . . . and to fail them. Because the Spirit of God is alive in us, we are promised that we have the power of heaven at our disposal. Wouldn’t you say your family is better than okay in light of that promise? However, the anchor is the flesh. The competition taking place between flesh and Spirit creates a perfect context for pain and disappointment to take place. But the reality is that God’s greater purpose is our sanctification, not our purposes or even our enjoyment.

So, the house may be way too small for your liking and exactly the r ight size. There is something larger at play that requires waiting and listening . . . waiting on God to show up in a way that is at times familiar and comfortable and is at other times not.

© 2005 Stephen James and David Thomas

Excerpted from Becoming a Dad: A Spiritual, Emotional and Practical Guide (Relevant Books), by Stephen James and David Thomas. Used with permission.