By Deacon Andrew Pack

I’ve been a papa for about 10 seconds and coming up to my first Father’s Day. This is weird for me; despite the fact that I look at my boy (the 95th percentile man-child that Jesus has given me to steward) and know he is my son, and I am his dad, I don’t always think about myself as a “father”. I don’t feel like a father when I think about the way I think of dads operating, or the dressings of Father’s Day: small, ceramic statues with arms stretched wide that read “I love you this much” and mini putt-putt greens for office floors. I am not a Hallmark card.

If I’ve learned anything in my 10 seconds as Dad, I’ve learned being a father isn’t about title, but about relationship. This kind of relationship is not of human origin, and the “self-help” section offers no hope either. My life with man-child, and my fatherhood, is more about theology than anthropology. When I breathe deep the eternal implications of life with my son – as an echo of the relationship between God and me, and a picture of The Father’s relationship with The Son – suddenly bearing the load, dying to myself, and shoveling for the ox that lives in my barn is becoming an act of worship.

The reality of what God would have this relationship be informs my reality of fatherhood, producing Gospel meditation and further awareness of my dependency on Christ. As in all things, Fathers day isn’t about me; it’s about Him.

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