Wednesday, December 05, 2007, 10:30am. The seawater along the shoreline of the Florida panhandle was very cold. Though beach combers were taking a stroll up and down the shoreline, nobody else was foolish enough to brave the cold seawater. The lower half of my body was taking a beating from the icy water; not unlike the American flag at a Dixie Chicks concert.

In up to my waist, I was holding a long-handle net in my hands staring down into the water as small waves kept lapping at my body. Ten minutes went by and I couldn’t feel my feet. Twenty minutes went by and I couldn’t feel my legs. But I was stubbornly insisting on staying out in the cold water as long as it took.

My three year old son and two year old daughter were standing on the shore behind me holding a bucket of water with a layer of beach sand on the bottom, desperately wanting a crab or a fish to put in that bucket and I was determined to catch such a creature. It was an opportunity for me to be their hero and I wasn’t going to miss it. Though I was hating life at that moment, I knew if I could just see some sort of crustacean and scoop it up in the net my children would be so happy. Their happiness would make the temporary suffering a small price to pay.

Then it happened. The first warning was my son shouting, “Daddy, watch out.” But, I was in the zone. I wasn’t about to lose my concentration. I kept my eyes focused downward as I stared into the water. Again, my son called out to me but I was locked onto the sand under the sea water like an owl eyeing a field mouse. There was no third warning. The sound of rushing water found my ears moments before I suddenly felt very cold water gushing about my head and chest while my legs and feet felt strangely warm. The lower half of my torso was now sticking up out of the water and my upper half was submerged. I don’t know which stung more—the cold immersion experience or the people on the beach robustly laughing as I came stumbling out the water like a drunk from a bar after a night of binge drinking. A not so small wave had got the best of me. My son and daughter thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.

Lying on the beach trying to warm up, I was reminded that try as I might, I am incapable and unqualified to be my children’s hero. I have no way to guarantee my kids joy and contentment. I couldn’t even guarantee a crab in their bucket.

The only thing I can do is give everything I have to leading them to the One who can be their lasting hero—the Lord Jesus.

The happiness I can give my children is fleeting. The joy the Lord can give my son is lasting. The future I can offer my son is both unsure and volatile. The future offered by the Lord is both guaranteed and stable. I am limited and mortal. The Lord is sovereign and immortal.

I love making memories with my children as they grow. I have loved every stage of their lives thus far. But, I hope that one day as they look back over their childhood that the thing they will remember the most is that daddy wanted them to love the Lord Jesus with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength. I hope and pray I am giving them every opportunity to do so.

Dad, the greatest gift you can give your children is to give them endless opportunities to know the Lord Jesus Christ. The good news is that it is never too late to start. The influence you have over your children is beyond anything you can imagine.

If you will turn to Jesus, they will very likely turn to Jesus Christ. If you will read the Bible, so will they. If you will share your faith, so will they. If you will go on a mission trip, so will they. If you will memorize Scripture, so will they. If you will sing of the greatness of the Lord Jesus, so will they. If you will live by the Bible’s standard of morality, so will they. If you will view the world through the lens of the Bible, so will they.

Of course the opposite is true as well. If you don’t think reading your Bible matters, expect their Bibles to collect dust when they reach their teenage years. If you don’t mind cutting moral and ethical corners when you get behind the eight ball, be assured you will be able to look over your shoulder and see them following your lead. Don’t make Sunday morning worship a priority and expect them to consider church unnecessary when they grow up and leave home.

Sure, there are exceptions, but the vast majority of the time, when young people walk away from the church in their late teens and early twenties you can bet they grew up in a home where dad communicated Sunday morning worship and serving the Lord through the local church is unnecessary.

Dad, the question is not if you are leading your children, because whether you like it or not, you are leading them. Rather, the question is to where are you leading them? To an abundant life in Jesus or to the emptiness and sadness of self-reliance?

Whatever direction your life is headed, be assured that a few years from now you will be able to look over your shoulder and still see your children following after you. After your walk with the Lord and your relationship with your wife, your influence over your children is the next most important thing in life.

It isn’t difficult to be the dad you need to be. You only have to give them two things: your time and the Bible. Get into their life by spending time with them. Just be there. You don’t have to be wise, athletic, good with your hands, or even enjoy their activities. They just want you to enjoy them. Just be in your children’s lives. Also, do everything you can to expose them to the Bible. Read it to them. Reward them for memorizing Scripture. Put them in AWANA. Make sure they get to Sunday school with their Bible in hand. Make sure you model worship to them in your weekly worship service. If you notice an opportunity during the week to provide the biblical perspective on a situation, take advantage of that teaching moment.

It doesn’t have to be that difficult. Just give them your time and the Bible. The Holy Spirit will do the rest.