Along Came Daddyhood

(Originally Published 12/31/08)

In our continuing march through the perilous jungles of parenthood, Ashley and I were recently encountered with the stress of a newborn’s sickness and all the related fear and worry that comes with it.

My own scholarly approach towards sickness is to ignore an illness until it demonstrates some worthiness. By this immensely flawed logic, the heavy hitters (think kidney stones, bronchitis) will prove their seriousness and the sinus infections / colds will run their ineffectual courses through my immune system. There’s a good chance that part of the avoidance is due to the co-pays and mandatory weigh-ins but that could also just be speculation.

But when the sufferer is Rowe, I scrap my policy of avoidance very quickly.
It’s a funny thing how our behaviors bend in the light of different situations. When considering the difference in how I treat my maladies vs. Rowe’s, I couldn’t help but think about how this disparity extends into other parts of my life.

When I think about the deadly serious way we interrogated the pediatrician and the iron-fisted enforcement of his recommended treatment, I wonder why it is that when it comes to the treatment of my faith that I become so cavalier with what is recommended of me.

There’s a safety-net mentality that unfortunately stains the thought process behind my daily faith. This emboldens me to play fast and loose with the direction and desire God has for my life. But in all matters pertaining to Rowe, I carefully consider each action and the ensuing consequence.

Why is it that I don’t pursue the safety of my spiritual health that diligently?

I’m grateful that God continues to cater to us within our relatively insignificant circumstances. He’s always refining. Always repackaging His will for us so that it will speak to our ever-changing circumstances more perfectly than it did yesterday.

For me, it was in the frenzy of fear and worry about Rowe’s health. Where else would my attention be? I suppose He could have chosen to hide His message for me in a segment on the 700 Club. Or it could have been spelled out on a church marquee I pass on my way home from work.

But He met me where He knew I’d be.