The Great Transfer

He must become greater; I must become less.

JOHN 3:30

FOR REASONS I’LL NOT GET INTO HERE, I’VE BEEN EXCESSIVELY modest about my body throughout my life. I never feel comfortable with my shirt off, so much so that even my own family does a double take when they see me shirtless. I remember a vacation on the beaches of Hawaii where I took off my shirt, and my youngest daughter said, “Wow, you look really white—like someone who’s had a fever for three days.”

“Yeah, or like someone who’s been dead for a week,” the other daughter offered.

Intellectually, I know our bodies are God’s good handiwork—his creative design made for his glory. Just as I look at the mountains and say, “There is the glory of God,” so I should be able to look in a mirror and say the same.

But I don’t.

One day, Lisa noticed that our son was exhibiting some of these same overly modest tendencies. Don’t get me wrong—biblical modesty is commendable, but shame isn’t. Without being intentionally critical, Lisa recounted to me what happened, and we both knew what she was thinking: “We know where that came from, don’t we?”

I wish I could model something different for my son—but I can’t. But there was one thing I could do. I took my son out for a “guys’ lunch”—cheesesteak sandwiches, fries, and colas, with no vegetables—and we had a talk.

“Graham, you know all those pictures of Jesus being crucified?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“They’re not very historically accurate.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the Romans crucified criminals, they stripped them naked.”

Graham gasped. He knew where this was leading.

“Unless they treated Jesus differently,” I went on, “they stripped him naked too. Maybe they did treat him differently, though the Bible doesn’t say they did. But if they didn’t, your Lord allowed himself to be stripped naked in front of his mom; a few female followers; and a leering, jeering, and lewd crowd who hated him. He took what would be your and my greatest fear, and he bore that on our behalf, because he loves us.”

I paused to let this sink in. “Graham, you know your dad has body issues—but your Lord doesn’t. He’s perfect. And his willingness to do that shows how much he loves you. If you ever doubt his love, just consider the cross.”

It was a difficult realization for me as a young father when it dawned on me one day that Graham would grow up to be disappointed with me. I was so large in his eyes when he was a toddler, and even recently, I heard him tell his best buddy, “See, I told you my dad is a holy man.”

But I’m a fallen man. Lisa recently said something to me while she was getting out of the car. I answered sarcastically, just a cutting little joke at her expense, and Graham said, “Oh my gosh!” He was shocked, because he doesn’t usually hear me speak to his mother like that. I apologized profusely, but the words had been said—and he heard them.

I wish I could be a perfect example for Graham of how to model Christ to the world, but I fall short every day, so part of my task as a parent is to prepare my kids to deal with their disappointment with me—and this means transferring their allegiance from me to God.

Instead of denying my “body issues,” I wanted to use them to show Graham his dad’s weakness contrasted with his Lord’s strength and glory. While it would break and rebreak my heart if Graham rejected me, it would devastate me beyond comprehension if Graham rejected his God.

“I might let you down, Graham,” I wanted to say, “but your God won’t ever do that. Any positive example I leave will be tempered with a few bad examples I hope you forget—but your God is perfect, consistent, never failing, and never disappointing.”

Have you ever thought about preparing your kids to deal with their parental disappointments? Have you ever talked to them about how much more capable their heavenly Father is than their earthly father or mother? Have you ever taken the time to begin the inevitable transfer of their allegiances from you to him?

Physically, we train our kids to take care of themselves—to brush their teeth, to shower regularly, even to floss. Educationally, we train them to get a high school and maybe a college degree. Athletically, we train them to achieve the best in their chosen sports. But what about training them spiritually for their inevitable disappointment with us? Why leave them to make that transition on their own? Why not use their growing understanding of our parental limitations to further cement their relationship with God?

Take your weakness—any weakness—and compare it with God’s strength. Our greatest wounds can be the very stepping-stones that lead our children to Christ.

Heavenly Father, our earnest prayer is that our children would receive you in faith and follow you in practice. Prepare them for the times when they are disappointed in us, and use our limitations to magnify your greatness. In Jesus’ name, amen.