Some days I wonder how my parents managed to raise me without the use of cell phones. This was becoming one of those days.

About 4:45 p.m. I got an urgent text from my beautiful wife Belinda, starting a flurry of back-and-forth messages between our cell phones. At 4:30 p.m. Belinda received an email telling of a 7 p.m. theatre audition for our daughter Scout (17). Belinda was surprised to receive the email, as the audition emails usually go straight to the spam folder and Belinda doesn’t see them.

An Hispanic theatre was looking for a sixteen-year-old female with a Hispanic/Caucasian racial mix. Bingo! Scout was excited about a new opportunity at a new venue.

The audition was in a nearby city, so Belinda and Scout had to act fast! They looked up the show on the Internet but couldn’t find any details on the show’s content. The theatre’s website said the play was a “family comedy.” So Scout scrambled, grabbed her acting resume, and Belinda whisked her off to the new theatre.

Right at 7 p.m., the ladies arrived at the theatre and found it to be a lovely place. This was a perfect opportunity for Scout to shine, as she was the only actress at the audition. The director had seen Scout in other shows, and they connected over mutual theatre friends. The audition was already going well as Scout began to read from the script.

The director gave Scout several selections from the show to read. As Scout read, she noticed other parts of the script were splattered with four-letter words, and none of them were “love.” The plot slowly emerged, and Scout found several uncomfortable themes in the play: a dysfunctional family, an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, drug usage, and abuse. She sure wasn’t seeing any “family comedy.”

Belinda kept me updated (and appalled) via texts. The audition concluded, and the director expressed his pleasure with Scout’s demeanor and skill. He said he’d be in contact with her. Belinda and Scout left for the car to discuss the audition.

Much of my “dad job” involves teaching choices to my kids, and I wanted Scout to choose “No!” in this situation. I teach, I pray, I tell stories of dumb things I did as a kid, and I wonder. I wonder if my kids are truly listening. I want the Lord’s best for my kids, and I imagine you want the same for yours. We dads want to honor God with the gifts He gives us for a time.

Releasing kids to the world is scary. It exposes what I did and didn’t do as a parent. It exposes my pride. See, if little Scout grows up to be a Communist dictator, well, folks will think bad things about me. If not-so-little-anymore Scout chooses to follow God, well, I rejoice, and people feed my pride telling me what a “good job” I did raising her.

When I set aside my pride, it all comes back to choices. I’m blessed to have powerful examples of choices within the circle of friends I share with my kids, examples demonstrating the impact of choices . . . choices made to run away from their Christian home school family . . . choices made to commit a felony . . . choices made to stay close to the Lord and let Him promote one with extraordinary talent to fame and to success.

I can point out these examples to my kids. I can teach choices to my kids. I can show the impact of choices to my kids. Yet my children still make their own choices, and they can rebel against wisdom and safety. Remember, even God’s children chose to rebel (see Numbers 13 and 14).

Thankfully, my wife can text like a teenager, so she kept me up with events. Scout got into the car with Belinda and exclaimed, “I can’t do that show!” Scout stated she thought this audition was a test from God—an “eye opener,” a sampling of what she would “endure” should she pursue acting as a profession. Wow.

Scout has learned that even without biblical morals, it is hard to get stage work. Being choosey about roles would affect what she could and couldn’t do in the theatre.

Funny thing, in the weeks prior to this audition, Scout attended a career discovery class. The class leader suggested Scout bypass an acting career and pursue costume design because it perfectly combined all her interests in theatre, sewing, arts, and creativity.

The Lord gave a character test, and Scout passed. Happy ending, right? Well, not yet. We did not know if Scout would be offered the role. If so, she would turn it down. But, when she turned it down, there was the risk she could be blacklisted in the local theatre community for being a “goody-goody.” Belinda prayed with Scout for the right words to say to the director. They decided to call the next day and remove Scout from consideration before casting choices were made.

As she waited, Scout realized all signs were clear that God wanted her to attend this audition no matter what came out of it. The audition invitation email miraculously went to Belinda and wasn’t trapped in Belinda’s spam folder. Miracles continued with Scout being available that night—and being the only girl auditioning. The director even knew Scout and had seen her in local shows. Scout recognized the Lord wanted her to attend a difficult audition and to see Him take care of the results.

The next morning Scout received an email from the director thanking her for the audition. He wrote he was going in a different direction and wouldn’t need Scout. Wow. The Lord worked it so Scout never had to decline, and her theatre reputation remained untarnished. She felt the whole exercise was a message from the Lord to pursue costume design instead of acting.

Dads, our kids will face character tests and tough decisions we can’t make for them. The Lord orchestrated this test for my daughter. She passed, and He rewarded. When that test arrives for your child, I can’t say, “Don’t worry.” I can say that when I wake up in the morning and agree the Lord is in control of all things, the rest of my day seems to go pretty well.

If you have a moment, please send an email to ImperfectFather@Gmail.com. I’d love to read stories of how the Lord has tested you and your child.

The post Testing 1-2-3 appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

I think it’s going to be a Tylenol day. My legs are jelly. My back needs replacing. My hands can hardly type this. My left shoulder is calling me names I won’t repeat.

Yesterday I built a tree house for the kids. I built it in one day. Please don’t be too impressed. My twelve-year-old son, True, helped. My eight-year-old son, Ever, sure thought he was helping.

The tree house was built in only one day, but it took six years to plan. For six years I promised my kids we were going to build a tree house “someday.” I bought and read four tree house-building books over those six years. The books had impressive titles like Backyards for Kids and Treehouses and Playhouses You Can Build. Yet none of those books built the tree house for me.

I was afraid‒paralyzed by fear, with hope but no action. I’m not a construction guy, and I really didn’t know where to start, so I didn’t start.

When the Lord speaks to me, I don’t get a burning bush. I get a lot of small grass fires. No commands to remove my shoes; just little reminders of what I already know I should be doing . . . like when I straightened a bookshelf and uncovered those four tree house books patiently waiting for me . . . like when my wife Belinda reminded me my boys and I are both getting older. Soon tree houses won’t interest the boys, and soon I won’t be able to build much more . . . like when I listened to my friend lead a church seminar on parenting. He reported our college and youth pastors stating teenagers’ greatest disappointments came from parents’ promising and failing to deliver. Parents really meant to teach their child to drive, or to fish, or to play chess. But they got busy with the thorns and thistles of life, and it never happened. Ouch.

After confessing to the Lord my fear, sloth, and ignorance, I focused on one book and one simple design. Like a pro I marked up the blueprint, created the materials list, and drove True to Lowe’s in a truck full of hope.

We stopped first in the “fasteners” section, or what I used to call screws, bolts, and nails. We were overwhelmed by the many sizes and types of fasteners, and I guess we didn’t hide it very well, because one of the Lowe’s guys, Dan, asked if he could help.

I proudly showed Dan my thoroughly researched materials list and how I was using inexpensive landscape timbers to construct the tree house, saving money rather than buying that expensive, pressure-treated lumber.

“You don’t want to use landscape timbers,” Dan remarked.

I guess my look said, “Oh, yes I do!” because Dan went on to explain how the tree house wouldn’t collapse under my sons and their many friends if I used pressure-treated lumber. Then Dan used his iPhone to show a video of the enormous tree castle he built for his sons using pressure-treated lumber. Dan won.

Saturday morning arrived, and I started early on what became a 105F-degree day. I stared at the plans. I stared at the pressure-treated lumber. I stared at the tree. The three didn’t agree in their dimensions or angles. The tree hadn’t signed off on my plans, so I would have to adapt. True and I prayed for the Lord’s wisdom as we recalled He knew a thing or two about carpentry. Then we agreed to construct only the support beams that Saturday.

True and I measured, sawed, fitted, drilled, and struggled. We talked about absolutely everything as we built. I recalled how my dad never built a tree house with me. True thanked me a dozen times for building with him.

About 1:30 p.m. we discovered we needed more materials, so we drove back to Lowe’s. I stared at joist fasteners for a long time, once again confessing my construction ignorance to the Lord. He rewarded my honesty by telling me, “Buy the flooring for the tree house.”

Now, I’ve never heard an audible voice from the Lord, but I do know when He is talking to me.

“Um, Lord, True and I agreed we’d only build the support beams today.” And He replied, “Buy the flooring for the tree house.” The Lord won.

Eight hours later, True is drilling deck screws into freshly cut floorboards while I hold the flashlight. We ran out of deck screws. One more trip to Lowe’s.

Apparently I got smarter as the day progressed, because I asked my college-educated daughter, Halley, to go to Lowe’s for me. “Begged” is probably the more accurate term, and she agreed, taking my wife along with her.

When the ladies visited Lowe’s, Charles helped them. Charles asked, “What do you need these deck screws for?”

“My husband is building a tree house with our boys,” Belinda responded.

Charles replied, “When I was a kid, I always wanted my dad to build a tree house with me. He promised he would, but he never did. Your husband is doing a good thing.”

Bingo!

“And we preach to you the good news of the promise made to the fathers, that God has fulfilled this promise to our children in that He raised up Jesus.” (Acts 12:32-33a)

Dads, you already know what I’m going to ask. Is there any unfulfilled promise you’ve made to your kids? Maybe it was an event, or a trip, or a hobby. I asked my kids to remind me of what I’ve forgotten, and I was reminded of a train ride and a trip to the beach. I hope Charles builds a tree house with his kids.

The new tree house is now decorated with old floor mats, furnished with old lawn chairs, and occupied by young, happy boys. And, to my wife’s delight, True is eagerly doing his schoolwork in the tree house. Thank you, Lord, for your patient reminders. Thank you, Lord, for the guys at Lowe’s. Thank you, Lord, for setting the example by keeping Your promises.

If you have a moment, please send an email to ImperfectFather@Gmail.com. I’d love to read stories of how you kept your promises.

The post Promises Kept appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

These days, television isn’t fit for families, so my kids have to settle for old “Dick Van Dyke” re-runs, but in the good ol’ days, most of what I learned came from those wonderfully-simple shows. I was thinking about one of those ’80s shows just recently–not so much about the show but about one of the lines used in most every episode.

Let’s see how good you are. The show was kind of a good guy/bad guy, man show. There were lots of explosions and a big battle at the end of the show. There was a crazy guy named Murdock and a gold-necklace-strewn, muscle man named B.A. Baracus’ (BA stands for Bad Attitude) whose only line seemed to be, “I pity the fool who messes with me.”

You guessed it! The A Team . . . but Mr. T’s line isn’t the line that I’ve been pondering lately. It’s the one that Hannibal uttered right before the battle scene. “I love it when a plan comes together,” he would say with a big stogie hanging from his mouth.

He said what we feel. We like it when our plan comes together. We like things nice, neat, and orderly—and with predictable outcomes. And while that plays out nicely on television, the honest truth is that most of the time our plans don’t come together. Instead, our plans too often fall apart, disintegrate right before our eyes, and leave us dumbfounded and stunned.

I’ve talked to plenty of homeschooling parents who were sold a plan. They followed the plan and then later stood before me with tears in their eyes because the plan “didn’t come together.”

“We did everything they said to do,” they muse.

“We didn’t have TV . . . we homeschooled . . . we ate organic . . . we only wore dresses . . . we sheltered and protected . . . our kids played the violin . . . we emphasized the classics . . . we never missed family devotions . . . we emphasized purity . . . we birthed our children at home . . . we had a home business” and on and on the list goes. They feel betrayed, angry, and lost.

I have to admit that several years ago when I heard their sob stories, I inwardly wondered what they had done wrong. I believed that they must have gotten the wrong plan–or didn’t carry the plan out according to the instructions. And while some of that may be true, I know now that sometimes our plans don’t come together because God has a different plan.

For us it was simple in those early years. Our children were young (and easy to control), the pressures of life were few, and we were optimistic–and naïve. But the years rolled by, the children got older (and not as easy to control), the pressures increased and suddenly we felt like our best-laid plans were unraveling a bit.

The things that my wife and I were so sure of when we started this parenting journey, we now found ourselves at odds with, wondering if we were sold a bill of goods or wondering what we did wrong to mess up the plan. We firmly believed that if we did things the ‘RIGHT way,’  we would get the desired results.

We assumed that if we controlled our children’s lives and influences and removed all ‘obstacles/temptations,’ we would avoid all the heartache and struggles so many parents seem to encounter. But guess what? GOD had a different plan.

Oh, to be sure, we made lots of mistakes . . . big ones, but I’m more and more convinced that homeschooling, parenting, marriage, and life doesn’t always go according to our plan. That’s not to sound hopeless; I believe it is part of God’s design to keep us close to him. We wouldn’t need HIM if all we needed was a good plan.

So what are you to do when your plan doesn’t pan out? What are you supposed to do when your child chooses things you wouldn’t choose, dislikes your likes, likes your dislikes, has friends you don’t like, wants to date instead of court, go to college instead of apprentice, apprentice instead of go to college, or work instead of either? What if you don’t see eye-to-eye with your spouse, and your children think you’re a big kill-joy?

First of all, go to your room, get down on your knees and thank God for HIS plan and relinquish your plan. Ask for wisdom in seeing your family members as part of HIS plan and not as enemies who messed up your plan.

Dad and Mom, our job is to walk the path on which God takes us and learn what He wants to teach us all along the way. We get so uptight about the change in plans that we quit enjoying . . .  everything! We don’t enjoy our home, our children, our mate, or our life. How life would change if we would just acknowledge the fact that God knows what he is doing and that HE may be doing it a different way–a better way than we ever envisioned.

I know that’s the case in my life. If all had gone according to my plan, I would have missed out on the lessons I’ve learned–er, am learning–about loving unconditionally and weeding out all the junk in my life that I never knew lived there. If only my plan was involved, neither I nor my children would have learned all they have about God, His forgiveness, and what it means to wrestle through to find His will.

After you’ve prayed, get off your knees and begin a new plan (one that God will probably change as well). Stop lamenting the fact that your old plan didn’t work out like you wished and start from where you are right now. If your daughter wants to like a boy, talk to her and come up with something that works. If your children hate the classical style of learning, try something different. If your husband doesn’t like dresses only, then go buy a pair of pants. If you’re tired of having babies the natural way, ask for an EPIDURAL! It’s about going forward–not looking backward.

The post When the Plan Doesn’t Go According to Plan appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

This is where I’d love to write of my compassionate response and tender actions towards my cash-deprived son. That story will have to wait because, like an idiot, I glared back in frustration.

What started off as a dad/daughter date to Wal-Mart (aren’t we classy?) turned into a family field trip to Stuff-Mart. True (10) had just received his monthly allowance, and as my grandmother said, the money was “burning a hole in his pocket.”

Tonight’s purchases included an X-Men Junior set, a voice changer headset, and a Sparkle Princess Barbie. (His sister told him what a wonderful Christmas gift it would be.)

True is the most generous kid I know. He spends his money on others with little thought of himself. He buys snacks from McDonald’s for his sister, just because he likes her. The previous Sunday, on True’s birthday, he gave away his outgrown bicycle to a church family, with no thought of getting another bike.

So we get to the register, and True assures me he has the cash to pay for his items. Except, somehow that third $5 bill had mysteriously turned into a $1 bill. With a mix of disgust and frustration, I dug out my wallet to “fix” the problem. Except, somehow that $10 bill in my wallet had mysteriously turned into a $1 bill.

I’d forgotten giving my $10 bill to a vagrant hip-hop guy with a story. He caught me in a parking lot with my family and delivered a familiar tale about needing gas for his car so he could drive his wife to a city up north. The “I’m a youth pastor” part of his novel was a new twist and caught me at an opportune time, as I’ve been studying Matthew 5 and Christ’s teachings to give up my rights, even when I know I’m being wronged. I slowly realized True’s generosity apple hadn’t fallen too far from my tree.

The problem could have been fixed with the mere swipe of a credit card. But that blasted Dave Ramsey has me thinking cash. So instead, I “fixed” the problem by glaring at True (such a lovely testimony to my son, the folks in line behind us, and the Wal-Mart lady).

And Wal-Mart Lady was indeed watching the show, waiting for us to decide who was going to fork over the remaining $5. Since True and I were broke, we had to ask my wife Belinda for the money. Mercifully, she found $5 to make up the difference for her deadbeat husband and son.

After an uncomfortable “goodbye” to Wal-Mart Lady, I proceeded to grill True about his financial practices, watching his countenance sink and his eyes water. Belinda grabbed my arm as I scolded True. Guys, when you’re talking and your wife grabs your arm, it is good to stop talking. I wasn’t good. I squashed True’s joy over his new toys and his sister’s Christmas gift.

Truth is, True’s dad doesn’t have much to rejoice in about his own financial practices. I give it away and spend it away without much more thought than my 10-year-old son. When I was about True’s age, I had a paper route (yes, I am that old). My first purchases were a BB gun, a black and white TV, and a clock radio–all the necessities of a 12-year-old life. So what do I do? I get frustrated when I see my son behave just like I did. Sigh.

There’s a bigger issue here than $5 at Wal-Mart: it’s the issue of control. I give True the money. I teach him to tithe, save, and spend wisely (unlike his old man). But it is now his money. I have to learn to let go. I can tell True what I think, but the decision is his, and according to Jesus, I must love my son no matter the decision he makes (Luke 15).

My kids make mistakes, and I should love them when they choose differently than I’ve advised. As they get older, they will answer to the Lord for their choices. I should be Christ-like, leading my children in biblical truth, forgiving them when they stray, and helping them recover—$5 is a small price to pay for their hearts.

As Belinda’s grip tightened on my arm, I sobered up. She frankly told me what I’d done, and I was ashamed. I apologized to Belinda and to True, and then I hugged him and told him I loved him. I didn’t say much the rest of the night. When we got home, I found and gave a $5 bill to Belinda to reimburse her rescue and soothe my guilt. I also gave a $5 bill to True, mostly because I felt bad about what I’d done to him.

I can’t control other people, including my children. I shouldn’t try. In my job as a project manager, sometimes folks expect me to control other people’s actions, but I can’t and I hate it when other people try to control me. What I can do is pray for my children to follow Christ, lead them in His truth, and watch Him take control of their lives.

The next morning I found $5 on my desk. I asked Belinda why she gave it back. She said she hadn’t. True told me he gave back his $5 bill. He didn’t think he deserved it. I have so much to learn from my son about money.

If you have a moment, please send an e-mail to ImperfectFather@Gmail.com. I’d love to hear about what your kids are teaching you.

The post $5 Worth of Wisdom appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

I’m definitely not a NASCAR-caliber driver, and I probably drive too cautiously for being a guy.  So when our caravan headed home from the concert, I got too far behind the lead car and was caught by a long, yellow traffic light. Life sometimes leaves you with a choice to press forward or to hold back. I made the wrong choice.

I sped up, but just before I entered the intersection, the traffic light turned red. And, just to my left, I saw a white car in the opposite lane, facing me. And, just on top of that white car, was something I really didn’t want to see: a light bar.

I hadn’t been back to my undergraduate campus for more than twenty-five years. North Texas State University has since become the University of North Texas (UNT). Apparently, the name upgrade brought an affiliated upgrade in the quality of academic buildings, student housing, and formerly pot-holed roads. Somebody had actually responded to those thousands of snail-mailed pleas for funds from the grateful alumni. I know it wasn’t me.

My younger daughter Scout’s (17) choir picked a field trip to hear the UNT Jazz Singers in concert. I was invited along—as long as I helped drive the group to the event. I agreed, as it was finally time to go back and recall my five years at UNT (four wasn’t quite enough to graduate me).

After twenty-five years of progress, I didn’t recognize I-35 at all; the roads had changed, and the buildings had changed. I began to wonder if I had changed so much in twenty-five years but then decided I didn’t want that answer.

We found the beautiful new concert hall amongst haunting old rehearsal halls where I recalled many hours of boring practice. Thankfully, the Jazz Singers were stunning, and their sound reminded me of why I had pursued jazz so long ago.

After the concert we drove to the town square to visit a famed ice cream parlor. The parlor was cool, and the square was beautifully lit at night. Nothing like I remembered.

Now, the fun part of the trip faded as my left-side mirror reflected the white car standing still at the light. For a moment, I was free! Then that light bar turned into the Fourth of July plus Christmas, as the white police car made a U-turn and rolled up behind me.

I turned my car into a nearby parking lot and remembered reading how to be the perfect citizen. I turned on the cabin lights, rolled the window down exactly three inches, and put my hands on the steering wheel. The girls in the back seat didn’t say anything, and I sure didn’t know what to say to them except, “Hold on, let’s see what the officer has to say.” I sensed the girls’ anticipation as they watched how I would handle the moment.

The officer ambled up to the car window and asked me to roll it down fully. “You know why I stopped you?” he questioned.

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do,” wrote the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 2:10. Such an intriguing conclusion to his explanation of why our salvation is based on Christ’s work, not our work.

When I think of “good works” my mind imagines flying to Haiti with Franklin Graham. Adopting five disabled children. Raising the dead. You know, GOOD works.

But could those “good works” also be the little things in life? Could it be comforting a daughter after she falls down and scrapes her knee? Could it be finding $100 somewhere in the monthly budget for a son’s long-desired laser tag birthday party? Could it be honesty to a police officer, as your daughter and her friend intensely observe?

“Do you know why I stopped you?”

“Well . . . could it be that red light I ran, Officer?” I sheepishly responded.

He replied, “Where were you coming from?”

“The Jazz Singers concert, Sir,” hoping the “sir” part might just earn a little forgiveness.

“You know, you’re the fourth person I pulled over from that concert,” he chuckled.

I supposed all that toe-tapping jazz got drivers tapping the accelerator, too, though I kept my clever comment to myself.

“Wait here please, and I’ll be right back,” the officer instructed.

As I obediently sat in the car, flashbacks, déjà vu, and, “You gotta be kidding me” washed all over me. I’d pulled into the same parking lot where, thirty years ago, I received a ticket for turning the wrong way on a one-way street. The “One Way” sign had fallen off its post, and I hadn’t seen it. With a few photographs and the determination of a young freshman collegian, I took my case to the city municipal court and won my freedom. Now I wondered if the campus police had long, vindictive memories.

The officer strolled back and handed my license to me. “I’m gonna let you off since you were honest. Besides, there’s nothing worse I could do to you than the grief you’re going to get from those ladies in the back seat!” he quipped. With nervous laughter, I thanked the officer and rolled up the car window.

Forgiven! For a moment I soaked in the amazing moment of mercy for one so undeserving. Then the Lord gently reminded me of another man who one day forgave an undeserving me when I got honest about my sins that were much more grievous than a red-light run.

“So,” I hesitantly asked Scout, “are you going to give me any grief?”

“No sir,” Scout responded.  “You drove us to the concert, and you bought us ice cream.”

The officer gave me mercy. My daughter gave me grace. The Lord gave everybody a lesson in redemption through honesty. I learn so much when I tell the truth.

If you have a moment of honesty you’d like to share, please send an email toImperfectFather@Gmail.com . I’d love to read stories of the good works the Lord prepared in advance for you to do.

The post Red Light Run appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

Fatherhood is a journey that few men would have begun if they had bothered to read the fine print at the bottom of the contract before making the commitment. The physical responsibilities are sobering, but the frightening part of fatherhood is the spiritual, moral, and emotional demands it places on a man.

Early childhood isn’t too bad. Mom, frankly, carries most of the load. Dads learn to change diapers and to haul baby equipment, but there are almost no intellectual requirements. The young family appears to be on auto-pilot, and we begin to think fatherhood is not as perplexing as we have been led to believe.

One day, a small cloud appears on the horizon of our ignorant paradise. Junior discovers the joys of redecorating the house with applesauce and toilet paper. Or maybe your sweet daughter decides to give her brother a Mohawk, or tie a belt around his ankle and drag him through the back yard.

The sky darkens considerably over the next few years. We discover our “innocent” children are skilled in the arts of selfishness, defiance, anger, hatred, and even cruelty. Ultimately, the storm crashes around us, and we envision a future filled with liability lawsuits, 911 calls, visits from law enforcement officials, and humiliating exposure of family secrets on daytime television.

Finally, we have shed our naïve ideas about fatherhood, and our Heavenly Father now has our attention (which, we eventually realize, was His plan all along). The real problem, we discover, is that our children are just like us.

God gave us children because He expects us to grow up. He wants us to wrestle with the knowledge that Christ is more than a slogan on a banner—He is the only hope of fallen man held to account by a Holy Creator. Our children’s actions and attitudes serve as powerful reminders of that truth. There is no hope of redemption from within the heart of man. He must look outside of himself.

Our culture withholds certain vital information early in the fatherhood journey, and we are willing accomplices in this conspiracy of ignorance. It’s appealing to buy into the lie that fatherhood is not vital to the emotional and spiritual integrity of children. It relieves us of the need to examine our own hearts, and it feeds the voracious hunger of fallen men and women to be “freed” from sexual morality. Shirking the duties of fatherhood makes lots of people happy. The only problem is that it ultimately makes us miserable.

Fatherhood is vital. Loving, purposeful fathers are essential to the proper development of spiritually mature children. How tragic that the culture denies the importance of fatherhood, and how sad that so many in the Church have been willing to buy into such foolishness!

What does God have to say about fatherhood? God’s proclamations—surprise, surprise!—have not changed. He has not revised His position on the authoritarian, antiquated, ridiculous, and terribly inconvenient fact that fatherhood is important. That’s not His way. His positions on important issues, it seems, were so well conceived that He never has to change course in order to accommodate recent studies, polls, observations, or whims. All our arguments carry zero weight in the great heavenly court of Truth. There is no shadow of turning with Him.

Here’s the Official Position on Fatherhood:

Fathers must teach their children about God.

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD:And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart:And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children … Deuteronomy 6:4-6

Fathers must teach their children about self-restraint.

In that day I will perform against Eli all [things] which I have spoken concerning his house: when I begin, I will also make an end. For I have told him that I will judge his house for ever for the iniquity which he knoweth; because his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not. 1 Samuel 3:12-13

We must teach our children about the goodness of the Heavenly Father.

If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if [he ask] a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall [your] heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him? Luke 11:11-13

We must nurture, admonish, and encourage, but never provoke.

And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Ephesians 6:4

Fathers, provoke not your children [to anger], lest they be discouraged. Colossians 3:21

We must be prepared to chasten our children.

If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? Hebrews 12:7

The truth is that fathers are leaders whose actions, words, attitudes, choices, voice inflections, preferences, and gestures all have great impact on their children. If you are a father, you will influence your children’s personality and values. Good fathers influence for good; Bad fathers produce bad fruit; and absent fathers leave a void which the child will fill with any influence he can find. Today, we see a small number of fathers depositing good things into the hearts of their children, overshadowed by a multitude of fathers who have chosen to abandon their children, in one way or another, and to allow less desirable influences to prey upon them.

Recently, I read a fascinating opinion piece by Jason Whitlock, a sports columnist, about the character qualities of quarterbacks in professional football. Whitlock had the courage to suggest that character really counts, especially to franchise owners who must invest millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. The logic is fairly simple. Talented young quarterbacks who developed their self-worth and value system under the influence of a stable, two-parent family are safer investments than those of equal talent whose negligent upbringing leaves them unable to adapt under pressure, receive criticism, work as part of a team, and focus on long-term goals.

Such moments of clarity are rare in the secular culture—and not well-received. To articulate such observations is to threaten the philosophical foundation of a culture that has rejected God and His truths. Truth, however, is never the enemy of God’s people—it is our hope and refuge.

Dads, your children need you. God appointed you to shape, love, and prepare them. They need you to direct every facet of their upbringing. You may not think you’re a very good candidate for the job. God obviously disagrees. He uses unworthy vessels. And in the process of using you to become a positive influence in the lives of your children, He will also be transforming you into the image of His Son.

And Dads, when you have the opportunity to encourage another dad, or to befriend a child who needs a father, or to help guide a home school support group, or to tell your wife that she’s doing a great job, please do. Your words and actions are more powerful than you realize.

The post A Father’s First Role in Leadership appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

Sunday had already been a long “sabbath,” arriving at church before 7 a.m. for worship team rehearsal, playing electric bass at two services, teaching Sunday School to fifteen wild sixth graders, rounding up my own gaggle of children, and trying to be “nice” to my church buddies. My supposed “rest from work” day was about to get longer.

The Ranger was one of those blessings the Lord gives when you don’t deserve it. My mother-in-law bought the truck to transport treasures from garage sales. Like many dreams, that one didn’t turn out quite as expected. So she loaned it to her then-unemployed son-in-law, who also didn’t turn out quite as expected. Around my office, we’ll tell you there is “nothing so permanent as a temporary solution,” and so the Ranger fulfilled this truth as the temporary loan took up permanent residence in my driveway.

Ranger is a five-speed stick-shift. I swore I would never drive a standard transmission, which, of course, explains why all of my vehicles since 1987 have had standard transmissions. You see, I like being able to talk on my cell phone, eat a Big Mac, and fiddle with the radio while steering—a habit my wife frowns upon, but then she drives an automatic.

Ranger’s odometer quit about three years ago, so who knows how many miles it has. On hot days, the A/C blows from the defroster vents rather than cool the driver. The headliner looks about as leprous as one of those people Jesus healed. The “your door is open” chime won’t quit after you close the door. The stick shift knob pops off into your hand if you aren’t careful (figures). The spare tire will launch off the truck if you hit a big bump a little too fast. Thankfully, Lowe’s Hardware now sells 24-inch cable ties so it is safe again to drive behind me.

Like an idiot, I kept turning the key, thinking the Ranger would wake up. It didn’t. Being Mr. Responsible, I carry a portable, self-jumping battery in the Ranger. Ranger jump-started and ran for 60 seconds, then quit. It wouldn’t jump-start again.

Finally, I accepted that Ranger wasn’t going to move on its own, so it was time to call a tow truck. Except, Mr. Responsible had canceled his AAA-Texas membership, thinking he would cut his annual automobile expenses. Mr. Responsible now wondered what he was thinking as he pondered Sunday up-charges for tow trucks.

My beautiful wife, Belinda, pointed out the children were starving and were about to get as grumpy as me. I stewed and fumed as Belinda drove her automatic transmission Suburban to Braum’s.

“Say, Honey, doesn’t our auto insurance include a towing service?” inquired my wife, proving she is as wise as she is beautiful. My spirit lightened as I phoned the auto insurance call center. “Why yes, Mr. Harrell, you do have towing service on your Suburban,” the insurance lady responded cheerily. “Are you calling about the Suburban today?”

There are moments in every dad’s life in which he has the opportunity to stare down temptation and respond to adversity with integrity and honesty as would please the Lord. I really, really, really, didn’t want this to be one of those moments. “Ummm, no ma’am. It’s the Ford Ranger. Ummm, why do you ask?” I inquired with hesitance. Insurance lady replied, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrell. You’ve only paid for towing service on the Suburban. You can add towing service to the Ranger, but you can’t use it for 24 hours. I’m sorry, but that’s our rule.”

I wouldn’t think you could be sad at Braum’s, the Joyous Land of Beef and Ice Cream. But a darkness came over me that I hadn’t felt since Tom Landry was fired.

The prior week had started rough with disappointing financial news from my company. Our lawn mower engine had just burned up, generating a repair estimate approaching the cost of a new lawn mower. I was sweating the re-appraisal of our house in anticipation of a cost-cutting refinance deal. Now, in addition to the expense of repairing whatever mysterious disease Ranger had acquired, I was spending another $80 to get “Tow Jam Wreckers” to rescue my foolishness.

Ranger was towed to the repair shop, and once we finally got home, I devoted Sunday afternoon to battling an unbalanced budget with a fervor I wish the U.S. government would mimic. Yet it seemed the Lord and my bank account weren’t communicating. I was trying and failing to cut costs to face the challenge of rising kid expenses with a falling income. I was angry, out of control, and demonstrating a lousy, ungodly attitude to my wife and children.

I am glad to say the Holy Spirit is powerful. In His power He broke through my darkness and prodded me right at my sons’ bedtime. A few times a week, my sons and I have our time with the Lord together. After we read some Scriptures, we’ll take five minutes to be quiet and listen to what the Lord has for us. I hadn’t been listening all day, so this was going to be interesting.

When thirteen-year-old Story’s turn to share came, he said, “Dad, the Lord reminded me of Psalm 46:10, ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’” Story confidently continued, “Dad, I don’t think you should stress out about the truck. He is in control.” He then prayed for the Lord to fix my truck, cheaply.

I cry a lot as a father . . . many reasons for that, but mostly because the Lord made me that way. And I cried as I rejoiced in the peaceful spiritual maturity of my son. I was out of control, and my teenage son had the wisdom and courage to direct me gently back to the Lord.

And I needed direction, as I had cut my moorings and faithlessly set off in crazy circles. “But the Lord is faithful. He will establish you and guard you against the evil one,” reads II Thessalonians 3:3. II Timothy 2:13 continues with, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.”

The Lord is faithful and good and sovereign, even when I don’t see it. Even when my truck throws a tantrum. Especially when I throw a tantrum. It is during hard times that I should demonstrate faith in the Lord’s faithfulness to my children. As the Apostle Paul continues his wisdom with II Timothy 4:5, “But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.”

Monday morning, the repair shop called at 8:05 a.m. They had already fixed the Ranger. Twenty dollars to replace a battery cable. Twenty dollars. I lost my head over twenty dollars.

The Lord faithfully took care of my sin. And, thanks to Story’s prayers, He faithfully took care of my Ranger.

If you have a moment, please send an email to ImperfectFather@Gmail.com. I’d love to read stories of how the Lord has rescued you.

The post Be Still appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

“Daddy, I made straight As!” Halley’s excited voice glowed over the phone.

“Wow, Girl. That’s great!” I replied with an exhale of joy and relief. Our oldest child just completed her first year of college. She was ready for us to meet her and drive her many belongings back home. Funny how you drive to campus with one carload of stuff and return with two.

All year long, while Halley was off at her university, a question rattled around in my head:  “After seventeen-plus years of homeschooling this girl, how did I do as a father?” Her mom was astounding, but how did I do? We both wanted her to do well in her home school life and beyond. We told her she was our experiment, as we’d never homeschooled before. In the 1980s I’d heard Raymond Moore on the James Dobson show describe the benefits of home schooling. In the 1990s I married Belinda and started the adventure with Halley. And, in the 2000s, I learned you don’t take this home school journey for yourself. You take it for your kids’ well-being and future.

And now we were nineteen years into that future. Did I teach her about Christ and to love Him with all her heart? Did I teach her to trust God for provision? For faith? For relationships? For a mission? For protection against evil and weird boys? Having been an evil and weird boy in my BC [before Christ] life, I was especially interested in teaching this lesson.

Belinda and I wondered if Halley should even go to college. She is smart, yet the expense is large and the potential exposure to prodigal-creating negative influences is even larger. Yet God made it clear that Halley should go and where she should go (topic for another article).

We enjoyed the unprecedented access to her college life that my parents didn’t have. We would “see” her via Skype. We read her Facebook to discern her heart. We texted her cell phone for instant encouragement and updates. I suppose if I slipped into paranoia, I could have secretly installed GPS tracking software on her phone (I didn’t!) and stalked her many trips to Wal-Mart. Today, I’m not really sure how my parents raised me without having cell phones.

In real life I serve as a project manager. I influence people and projects by setting direction, removing obstacles, and telling people things they don’t want to hear but need to hear (ex. “We’re over budget!”). I have great responsibility with limited authority. Gee, that sounds like a dad’s job doesn’t it?

You see, I can still influence my girl, but she has choices I can’t control and that I don’t even want to control. The Apostle Paul tells me not to worry about anything but to pray for everything and then I’d feel at peace. No worries, just a “relaxed concern” like Jesus exhibited on earth. So while I struggled to exhibit relaxed concern, God taught Halley many truths about Himself.

He taught Halley faith. The Lord worked a miracle to get her into college. And, by the time you read this, we trust He will work another miracle for the next semester.

He taught Halley relationships. When Halley arrived at her college, she didn’t know anyone. Now she has dozens of friends there. God even gave her a terrific roommate?though I suspect we worried the roommate’s parents that we were one of those kooky, right-wing, conservative home school families.

He taught Halley protection?though maybe she already understood this, having survived a serious car wreck two years ago. The other driver didn’t see Halley’s car and clobbered her into oncoming traffic, with airbags deploying. The car was totaled, yet Halley walked away unharmed.

At orientation I asked the campus chief of police if Halley could carry a Taser on campus. He said, “No” and probably put me on his “watch list” of kooky, right-wing, conservative home school families.

He gave Halley a mission. She applied for several campus mission activities but wasn’t selected?until the Young Life folks recruited her. Now she is a Young Life minister with a pioneering gospel mission to a local high school.

He taught Halley provision. She had her meal plan and even worked at the campus cafeteria for a semester, so she wasn’t going to starve, no matter how mysterious the meat. Yet my girl enjoyed 2 a.m. emergency trips to Taco Bell with her friends, and the Lord provided for that need using several surprise checks in the mail.

Life for Halley wasn’t perfect, and neither was she. Yet the Lord took care of everything we could think of—and more.

After Halley’s academic victory we drove down to help move her stuff home. It was amazing to see how two semesters of trips to Wal-Mart over the year had increased the load on her room. Even more amazing to see was how two people had squeezed so much into 200 square feet. I wisely stayed downstairs to “organize” the packing of stuff into the cars and happily allowed my young sons and daughters to carry the loot down four narrow flights of ancient dormitory stairs. During the packing a cute girl struck up a conversation with my son, Story (13), who looks much taller, more mature, and wealthier than his age. I reminded myself to talk to that boy again about girls.

We had to stop by the campus financial aid office, as I’d received an ominous email stating I’d forgotten to check a box on the website and Halley wasn’t getting any more money. A computer glitch, it turned out. As we spoke with Mr. Financial Aid, I learned Halley knew him already. A mass media classmate, it seems. He smiled a little too widely at my daughter for my comfort. I reminded myself to talk to that girl again about boys.

If there is one thing I wish I’d known when my grown-up little girl went off to college, it is the truth in Romans 11:36, “For from Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen!”

That word all means God is sovereign. He is in control over all things. He doesn’t miss anything. He loves my children more than my wife and I do. He wants my kids to love Him, to follow Him, and to enjoy Him more than we do.

After nineteen years under my covering, Halley had lived on her own for a year. So many unknowns faced her first year away from home. God took care of them all. He used her mistakes as life lessons. He led her to solid, Jesus-loving friends and mentors. He made her more confident in Him and in herself. He filled in the gaps and took care of her. He even provided for the adventure.

I still have four more kids to graduate, and my first got all As at college. So, I’m giving myself an A in home school fathering.

If you have a moment, please send an email to ImperfectFather@Gmail.com. I’d love to read your stories of the children you’ve released.

The post Straight A’s appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

Now, I know that for the womenfolk who are reading this article, even the mere mention of homeschool conventions sends chills down their spines. To a homeschooling mom, it’s like the circus coming to town and Disney World all wrapped into one. However, to the husbands of those homeschooling moms, the words “home school convention” conjure up the same good feelings of having your bowels cleansed or having the skin removed from your tongue.

Don’t get me wrong. I know there are some dads who are reading this who look forward to the time each year to get away and stroll up and down the aisles of wall-to-wall people, stand in long lines to pay a lot of money for a pretzel that costs as much as their first car and listen to some curriculum salesman drone on about the virtues of . . . whoa, I’m getting a little squeamish just writing about it.

Here’s the deal, my fellow homeschooling dad: your wife needs and wants you at her side during the whole painful ordeal. Believe me, I know. My family and I travel all over the country speaking at state homeschool conventions. Most of the attendees are women, and I see it in their eyes and hear it in their conversations. In fact, I wonder if they don’t envy those women who have their husbands by their sides. These men prove by their presence that they are committed to home schooling and to what is important to their homeschooling wives.

So, Dad, let me shoot straight with you. You need to make it a priority to attend The Woodlands Convention this year. I don’t mean a brief swing by the convention on your lunch hour or maybe a few hours on Saturday. I am talking about taking a day or two off from work, finding someone to watch the kids, and opening and closing the joint, all the time glued to your wife. I can hear the air being sucked from your lungs and see you squirming in your seat. Take heart; I’m not asking you to go unprepared. I am going to talk you through the finer points of making it a great experience for you and your wife.

The Family Man’s Guide to a Successful Homeschool Convention … for Dads

1. Leave the kids behind. I know it’s not easy to find someone to watch the kids for a couple of days and nights, but I am telling you there is nothing that breathes life into a marriage or home school like a couple of uninterrupted days of hand-holding closeness without the kids. I know you love your kids and that they may want to attend, but tell them that this year it’s just for Mom and Dad. Get on Priceline.com for a good deal on a nearby hotel (or even better, reserve a room right on site), and then plan to take your wife to one of her favorite restaurants for dinner.
2. Once you get your hotel reservations, throw away all your expectations for a romantic get-away. Instead, think “home schooling” because that is what your wife will be thinking. So when you get back to the hotel room, stretch out on the bed and say, “So, what did you enjoy most today, Honey?” By using self-control, you will show your wife just how much you love her and your commitment to your family and home school.
3. Determine in your heart to stick to your wife like you used to. Resist the temptation to stand and shoot the breeze with Joe, whom you haven’t seen in a week, and walk the aisles with your wife.
4. Do not rush your wife. Allow her to take as much time as she needs to examine every item in each booth. I know I am asking a lot of you, but you can do it. Also, take it to the end. Instead of asking, “Are we finished now?” assume she will not be finished until the closing bell rings. I repeat, do not be in a hurry.
5. Listen to your wife’s questions, and then give thoughtful answers. When your wife asks what you think of a Latin curriculum, don’t just say, “Sure, Honey, whatever you think.” Instead, listen to the features, think it through and give her a thoughtful answer. When you sit down at lunch or dinner, don’t expect her to be focused on you, but listen as she talks about all that she saw and learned during the day. Smile, hold her hand, and ask questions.
6. Be extravagant in your spending. Take it from this cheapskate that when you allow your wife to buy what she thinks is necessary, you prove to her that she’s worth your hard-earned money, that you are committed to home schooling, and that you want her to have the best tools to make her job easier.
7. Do not fall asleep during the speaking sessions. Pinch yourself periodically if you have to. Better yet, give a friend permission to smack you in the back of the head if he sees you dozing.
8. Encourage your other homeschooling dad friend that you see in the convention hall. When you pass him, draw close and say, “You da dad . . . keep up the good work . . . hang in there . . . you make me proud . . . don’t make me smack you in the back of the head!”
9. Last, when your wife asks you what you thought about the wall-to-wall people, the long lines for a mortgage-payment-sized pretzel and all the curriculum salesmen, say, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

My fellow dad, there is not a homeschooling mom in the world who would not kill for a man like that.

You can do it.

You da dad!

The post Go to the Convention appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.

This convention made such an incredibly favorable impression on Phyllis and me that we decided we needed to give homeschooling careful consideration and began to pray about it and cogitate on it over the next months. We were probably most surprised by the volume of curriculum choices and support materials that were available for people who were interested in schooling their children by this method. We are also very much encouraged by the overwhelming preponderance of materials being based on a Biblical worldview. Later, someone told us that the homeschool convention in Arlington hosted by Hearth and Home Ministries, held annually in May, was an even larger event with more booths, curricula, and materials. We made the decision to attend the spring 2003 book fair sometime in 2002, and because we wanted the time to learn about and to carefully consider various curriculum options, we chose to make it an overnighter.

Thus began our annual ‘date night’ in Arlington. Some might consider this a rather unusual and unromantic version of a date night, but we have always savored our brief private time away from the children. Since we normally do almost everything together as a family (and prefer it that way), it does not seem so odd to us to enjoy getting away for the purpose of thinking and planning for our children’s future. Typically, we either drop our children off at my retired parents’ home on Thursday evening or one of them comes over to our house to stay and supervises them until we return.

We generally stay at a hotel which is adjacent to the convention center. However, one year we stayed at a nearby motel because we thought it might be good to save a few dollars. I think we were on the second floor of three stories. In the middle of the night we were awakened from a deep sleep by a traveling youth soccer team that had begun kicking one of their balls around in the room above us as well as in the adjoining third floor hallway; they were stomping around quite vigorously. After listening to this racket for a while, we called the front desk and requested help in regaining our tranquility. It seemed like the balls kept bouncing and the stomping continued on forever, but it finally settled down about 30 to 45 minutes after calling the front desk. After waking up at daylight and feeling unrefreshed, we resolved never to stay in an inexpensive motel again for our special date night.

Typically, after spending Friday wandering around in the convention center, acquiring brochures, making a few purchases and sitting through workshops, our feet and minds are weary. So we generally leave the convention hall a bit early to check into the hotel, rest our feet for a bit and look over some of the items which we picked up. After that, we enjoy driving around looking for a new (to us) restaurant to try out their culinary skills and ambiance. We prefer something on the quieter side. We have generally had good luck with our selections, and we always relish the special time together. Then it is back to the hotel to kick off our shoes and crawl into bed or into a chair to read something interesting that we picked up at the convention. We bounce ideas off one another and try to plan strategically for several years in advance (usually future decisions about curricula are made one to three years in advance). For us this is a wonderful break from interruptions, and it allows us to discuss and to mull over ideas that we often cannot easily do in the presence of the children.

My wife greatly values the time that I spend with her and my personal involvement in the decision-making process with regard to choosing curriculum. I enjoy the one-on-one time with her without the constant distractions that the children normally interject into our conversations. We sleep in on Saturday morning (sleeping in for us might be until 7:00 to 7:30 a.m.) and enjoy a leisurely breakfast at the hotel which I treasure very much (all you can eat buffet with eggs made to order). We then wander over to the convention hall and continue visiting booths, making purchases and attending workshops.

One special treat for us is that we always purchase one or more books, CDs, or DVDs for our own personal pleasure; I have even been known on occasion to make a sneaky purchase or two as a Mother’s Day gift for my wife and then slip out to my car to hide it somewhere inside.

All in all, it is a charming experience for both of us. We end up being pumped up and encouraged for the next year of teaching with reenergized minds. Our children enjoy their special time with their grandparents. When we reunite late Saturday afternoon, we all get to share what happened with each other on the way back to our home in Garland.

Brian Shepherd can be contacted by email at TheShepherdFlock@Verizon.net.

The post Date Night at the Convention appeared first on Texas Home School Coalition.