The Fears of Fatherhood

Can grace be wasted? Can someone abuse grace so much that’s its stripped away from them? These were a few of the questions that were freely falling through my mind consuming everything when I looked into my daughters eyes for the first time. I’m sure she could see the reflection of her perfection in my eyes, because I seen each and every one of my imperfections in hers. I was an inconsistent christian consistently returning to my vomit with no convictions. In my mind, I was not ready to be a father, I had way too many “personal demons” I was dealing with. How could I lead when my willingness to be lead wavered constantly? In her first few days in my arms it seemed like we had an eternity of conversations where each and every flaw in my character was presented with an ultimatum to change or fail in loving her… She was teaching me. My son brought an equal amount of judgement when he was born. Much like the birth of my daughter, my son brought my struggles to the forefront. I see so much of myself in his eyes. He has my mannerisms, personality, my walk; it’s almost like God is giving me a second chance in a sense. Not saying that in the sense of me living vicariously through my son, forcing my likes and dislikes, personal hopes and missed dreams on him. I mean that in the sense that I now have a chance to impart what little wisdom I have to my son so he will succeed where I failed. Those inner conversations brought me to this point where the fear of failure weighs heavily on my mind.

I have always been conscious of God and his standards, my grandparents and parents made very sure of that. I was always in some sort of character building program or activity staying very busy. My idle time as a child was usually some sort of family time. I have never done anything “too bad” although I will take a few secrets to my grave, shared only with my wife. Still, the idea of wasting grace is heavy on my mind. What if ALL of the grace that God has given me throughout the years was somehow wasted. Not in the sense that I’m not worthy of it, because I believe that none of us are, but in the sense that it was given to me and I squandered it. Wasting it by choosing to sin after being spared of its instant consequences time after time. I have this image in my head that’s ever present of me standing before God holding a chalice filled to the brim with something of infinite worth and me pouring it out right in front of Him. It bothers me, but it also keeps me sober most times.

That thought invaded my mind the instant after my wife ran and jumped in my arms to tell me that she was pregnant with my daughter. I was beyond elated, but also worried. I was so nervous leading up to her birth that I even sold all of my none PG-13 movies for the fear that she would be home alone one day and become over exposed (lbvs). Mentally, I was in no position to be a father at all, but then again who is? I fear that I will fail as a father more than anything. Things like I won’t have enough time to spend, or what if I teach them wrong? Or what if they throw away everything I teach them and buckle under the weight of peer pressure? What if the “world” corrupts them before they have a chance to heed my warning? What if I’m not transparent enough to where my failures become their lifelong stumbling blocks? At this point my thoughts are scattered, I’m guessing only time will bring cohesiveness, but then again I’m not so sure. For those who can relate or for those who are able to somehow piece my thoughts together my only hope is that you’d be encouraged.