Fathers, Ask for Their Heart (And, Preachers, Write a Poem)

I sympathize with fellow church leaders who wrestle with what to do at church on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Some of us avoid them altogether, as if they didn’t exist, while others craft the sermon, even the service, around the day.

I once heard a pastor remark that those opposed to “high church liturgy” often have instead a “Hallmark liturgical calendar,” so not Pentecost or Epiphany but MLK Day, a summer series bounded by Memorial Day and Labor Day with Fourth of July in the middle, and a fall calendar with Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving.

Our church tends to fall in the middle. On the one hand, we mark Lent and Advent, but we miss all the national holidays except Mother’s and Father’s Day.

But even when a church highlights Mother’s and Father’s Day, it’s not always clear the best way to do so. My church, just like your church, is filled with some people rejoicing and other people weeping.

Father’s Day amplifies the pain of infertility, miscarriage, abuse, abandonment, divorce, and death. But Father’s Day also highlights the joys of parenting and being parented and that children are a wonderful gift from the Lord. It’s also a day to encourage the fathers among us who strive, however imperfectly, to image the love of the heavenly Father.

During our church services on these days, I’ll often do the announcements or pastoral prayer, briefly mentioning this tension and praying in such a way as to cover the spectrum of emotions and to lift our eyes to the Lord.

Some years on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I also write a poem and read it to the church. Two years ago, I wrote a poem for Father’s Day based on Proverbs 23:26, which says, “My son, give me your heart.” I stumbled on that short verse a long time ago, being struck by the audacity of asking for something of such significance: a father not asking for mere good deeds done with indifference, but rather his son’s heart, the very center of who he is. It strikes me that this is what God asks from all of us. “Give me your heart,” our Father in heaven says.

My poem is an imagined conversation between a loving father and a prodigal son. I’ve included the poem below. I only share it in the hope that it might stir an idea as you prepare yourself and your church for next year’s Father’s Day.

When I shared the poem in church, the feedback was good but certainly not glowing. That’s what I expected. The poem is good but not great. And that’s okay. I ain’t Will Shakespeare or John Piper.

But this winter, a year and a half after I shared the poem at church, I went to the house of a member who had died a few days before. I sat around a kitchen table with the man’s widow and three grown children to plan the funeral of the father and husband they loved and will only see again in heaven.

After we planned and prayed and hugged, I went to leave. And as I did, I saw my Father’s Day poem taped to his fridge. I smiled, thanking God that even though most of the time pastors don’t get to see the fruit God grows through our ministry, sometimes we do.

* * *

“My Son, Give Me Your Heart”

Dad, there’s a cuddly dragon outside
I’d like to take him for a ride
He’s just beyond my window pane
His breath is steaming in the rain

My son, no
Dragons grow

I see him when I close my eyes
His whispering sounds so wise

Son, a dragon’s purr becomes a roar
He won’t be thrilled except through more
He’ll stretch his wings and won’t be tamed
His claws cut deep in hearts he’s claimed

Okay, okay, I understand
For you I’ll live a life that’s bland
I’ll clean my room and mow the yard
Grit teeth and tithe, and do what’s hard

My son, give me your heart

Remember that dragon outside?
I’m going to take him for a ride
His shiny scales feel soft and fast
We’ll swoop and soar over oceans vast

Don’t be deceived when they entice
The scales that shimmer also slice
Though his highest intension sleeps
A dragon only plays for keeps
Between your shoulders is his prize
Never believe him when he lies

My son, give me your heart

Then ride a stallion, pick a cause
Don’t live for fleeting man’s applause
Follow God, love him first to last
Then you’ll soar over oceans vast

Now, I’ve failed you; I blew it bad
I’ll run away; I’ll fix it, Dad

My son, give me your heart

You said, Love a woman, love her well
But I loved ten
You said, Follow all the rules
I ran with fools

That’s neither what I said nor meant
A father’s love will not relent
Run and run away you may
Never so far that you can’t pray
And I will surely love you still
Though you rebelled against my will
My son, give me your heart

* This article was originally posted by the Eastern District Association of The Evangelical Free Church of America here.

My Son, Give Me Your Heart: An Original Father’s Day Poem

Today is Father’s Day. At church I’m sharing a poem I wrote. It’s a conversation between a father and his son. The repeated line in the poem (“My son, give me your heart”) comes from a verse in the book of Proverbs. I hope you enjoy it.

You can read it below, and—if you like—you can listen to me and my oldest son read it.

*     *    *

“My Son, Give Me Your Heart”
a poem based on Proverbs 23:26a

Dad, there’s a cuddly dragon outside
I’d like to take him for a ride
He’s just beyond my window pane
His breath is steaming in the rain

My son, no
Dragons grow

I see him when I close my eyes
His whispering sounds so wise

Son, a dragon’s purr becomes a roar  
He won’t be thrilled except through more
He’ll stretch his wings and won’t be tamed
His claws cut deep in hearts he’s claimed

Okay, okay, I understand
For you I’ll live a life that’s bland
I’ll clean my room and mow the yard
Grit teeth and tithe, and do what’s hard

My son, give me your heart  

Remember that dragon outside?
I’m going to take him for a ride
His shiny scales feel soft and fast
We’ll swoop and soar over oceans vast

Don’t be deceived when they entice
The scales that shimmer also slice
Though his highest intension sleeps
A dragon only plays for keeps
Between your shoulders is his prize
Never believe him when he lies

My son, give me your heart  

Then ride a stallion, pick a cause  
Don’t live for fleeting man’s applause
Follow God, love him first to last  
Then you’ll soar over oceans vast

Now, I’ve failed you; I blew it bad
I’ll run away; I’ll fix it, Dad

My son, give me your heart  

You said, Love a woman, love her well
But I loved ten
You said, Follow all the rules
I ran with fools

That’s neither what I said nor meant
A father’s love will not relent
Run and run away you may
Never so far that you can’t pray
And I will surely love you still  
Though you rebelled against my will  
My son, give me your heart

* Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash

More Than Amnesty

Neither every moment nor every aspect of pastoral ministry enthralls. However, I am convinced—through the study of the Word and pastoral life within the local church—that every endeavor to promote connection between God and his people is nothing short of participation in God’s intention for the universe.

Said another way: laboring towards genuine, God-besotted, gospel-community is laboring with the grain of the universe, not against it. And because this is true, our labors to cultivate this type of community are always deeply meaningful, whether we palatably perceive it in every moment or not.

Furthermore, in my experience, as summertime ends and the school year begins, people tend to be more inclined to involve themselves in this type of genuine, God-besotted, gospel-community in a local church. They sign up to serve in the nursery; they join the worship team; they commit to a small group Bible study. 

This year, in order to celebrate the beauty of these commitments and the reconciliation which was hard-won for us by Jesus Christ, I reworked a poem I wrote a few years ago. It’s called, “More Than Amnesty.”

Amnesty means one group has pardoned another group of wrongdoing. But amnesty doesn’t necessarily mean the two groups are now reconciled, and it certainly does not imply that they are friends; it merely means they are neutral.

In the gospel, we have far more than amnesty. Yes, God has pardoned, but the sacrificial death of the Son of God does not bring us into a neutral relationship with God, a merely pardoned relationship.

Rather, through the gospel, we are reconciled with God; we are made his friends; we become beloved sons and beloved daughters of God. That is more than amnesty. And this is what we were made for.

May God stir deeper longings in our hearts for this type of genuinely God-besotted, gospel-community. And may God enable our churches to make greater progress towards it.

*     *     *

More Than Amnesty

In God’s likeness with no shame
Eve and Adam rule and reign
Stretching glory ‘cross the earth
‘til they doubted God’s great worth

Now scorched and frayed and fractured
Father’s connection shattered
Like concrete cracked with hammer
Change Garden’s bliss to clamor

A willful grab for power
Caused Paradise to sour
Now a fire guarded gate
None will circumnavigate

So flounder, flop, flail—long years
Try to fix, yet smudge and smears
To sin’s shackles bondage bound
With no way by man yet found

But wait, but wait, oh—but wait
upon us no crushing weight
Now the curse of sin undone
By the beauty of the Son

More than our forgiven debt
We have deepest longings met
More, more, more than amnesty
A blood adhered family

Restored, redeemed, reconciled
Children no longer exiled
Now, the Father holds us dear
“I will be your God,” we hear

[Photo by Christopher Michel / CC BY]

A Conversational Ode to Christian Mothers

Last year, I broke an unwritten rule for preachers: on Mother’s Day, I did not preach a sermon that had anything to do with motherhood. For sure, there are worse crimes, but because it was my first Mother’s Day at a new church, I felt I needed to atone for my breach of etiquette. Therefore, I wrote the poem below and shared it at the beginning of my sermon. For your enjoyment, I’ve also included a few of the comments that I used to introduce and conclude the poem. Happy Mother’s Day, mothers. Thanks for all you do.

*     *     *

In honor of the women at church this morning, I have written a poem. I have no illusions that it will stand the test of time and become one of the great literary works of the century. It will not. However, I hope it blesses you. I’ve given it the ridiculously long title, “A Conversational Ode to Christian Mothers, Especially Mothers with Young Children.”

Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?
And then after nap?
And after dinner?
And after church?
And after Thanksgiving and Christmas?
Sweetie, we’re only in the month of May.
It should come more often, this Mother’s Day
Especially for how little the pay.

Mom, can I play at the park?
Can I come out of my room?
Can I go to Gretchen’s house?
Can I have a snack?
No, buddy, no. We just ate.
You’re going to have to wait.

Mom, my shoe’s untied?
My hair is tangled.
I think the little one has pooped.
Okay, okay. One thing at a time.

Hard to remember, I suppose.
When all there is are dirty clothes.
But there are rewards, are there not?
To see your children raised and taught.
To show them Christ, as he’s loved you.
To be there for all they go through.

Hard to remember, I suppose.
When baby has a snotty nose.
Remember this, when they are small
You are mother, but that’s not all.
Your children will help to shape you,
But your children do not make you.

The Target checkout lady knows your name
And so does God, and he even knows your shame.
And your pain, and he loves you all the same.
Because Christ has taken all of your blame.

That was my slightly humorous, and slightly serious, way to say this: Motherhood is a good thing, but it is not an ultimate thing; motherhood is important, but it is not everything. The best Christian mothers are the mothers who know that their children do not define them, but Christ does.

Maybe being a mom has worked out great for you and you will Skype with your children today. That’s good. But maybe being a mom hasn’t worked out so well—maybe you had miscarriages, or abortions, or children that got divorced, or maybe you never had any children. That’s hard, very hard.

I guess I would just say to all women here (especially to young mothers), that, in the Gospel, God loves you and “Christ has taken all of your blame.”