A Hope and a Future
My son Campbell is tickled pink to have a little brother. I’m sure, however, that he wishes Reilly had come earlier. Campbell has one older sister, five younger sisters, and now his roommate, who is ten years his junior. Reilly, as a one year old, isn’t much use for backyard football. Which may explain why I found my eldest son yesterday “playing football” by kicking his ball over the swing set. It gave me an idea. “Son,” I said, “you know if you aspire to play professional football one day, you might want to think about learning the art of place kicking. Given your genetic background, it is unlikely you will ever have sufficient size to play anything but kicker. And you could master the art without playing in high school, and perhaps, if you go to college, you could walk on there and get an opportunity to show your stuff.”
I understand his desire to be a professional athlete one day, in large part because I had much the same dreams when I was his age. The answer I gave when asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” depended on what sport was in season at that moment. I also understand that the odds are not in his favor. (It’s not quite so easy for him to see, as it is for me. His best friends’ father was a major league pitcher.) I have determined at this point not to squelch his dreams, but to give him a bigger vision.
You know, Campbell, heavy equipment operators have to get up early in the morning, and often work late into the night. They are not left with a great deal of time to be with their family.
About the time Campbell turned four, I came up with a better way to encourage my son. I gave him another element of our family liturgy. Our family liturgy is a tool for communicating to our children our fundamental convictions. The bits of the liturgy consist of simple questions and answers. All of my children are taught to respond, when asked, “What are Sprouls?” to reply, “Sprouls are free.” I ask them, “Whom do Sprouls fear?” and they reply, as I have taught them, “Sprouls fear no man; Sprouls fear God.” With Campbell I added this. I taught him to reply when I, or anyone else asked him, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” simply this— “A godly man.”
A vital element of the call to godliness is the call to exercise dominion. Our work matters; it has eternal consequences. We ought to be watching for peculiar gifts, training in particular arts, casting vision that includes the earning of our daily bread. We ought to raise up sons who will subdue the earth, and rule over it. We ought also, however, to keep these things in perspective. Not a one of us would rejoice should our son excel in the NFL, if he does not faithfully follow Christ. We would not go to our graves satisfied if our son became a captain of industry, while insisting on being the captain of his own soul. Indeed we would bitterly mourn if our son stood astride the globe like a colossus, and did not acknowledge his Maker.
My son learned to love sports precisely because his dad loves sports. I know this because I learned to love sports because my dad loves sports. I have learned to write and teach because my dad learned to write and teach. (Though I, of course, have not learned to do so nearly as well as he.) Sons tend to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. I want to be sure my sons follow me as I walk, however feebly, in the footsteps of Christ.
In all your planning, plan for eternity. I will not know how well I have done not just as a father, but as a man, until I see my children’s children being taught to love and serve the Lord. That will be my “graduation.” Then I will be able to say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith” (II Timothy 4:7).