The Happiest Day And The Bigger Blow

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

PHILIPPIANS 2:3–4

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, A WOULD-BE ASSASSIN PLUNGED a knife into the unsuspecting King Louis XV. Though the wound wasn’t mortal, doctors initially feared it was (and almost made it so, by—get this—bleeding a man who had already lost great quantities of blood).

The king of France assumed the worst. He called for his son and handed him the key to his writing desk.

“My son,” the king said, “this now concerns you. May you be happier than I was. I’m leaving you the kingdom at a very critical moment. I hope you’ll have enough insight to govern for the best.”

The king’s son took his father’s hands, kissed them, and mumbled in his grief and tears, “Would to God that I had received the blow!”

“That would have been far more painful for me!” the king replied.

Here is a man on top of the world, living in unparalleled luxury and power and prestige. He could take (and often did) virtually any woman of his choosing; he could kill (and sometimes did) any enemy he hated. Like Israel’s King Solomon, he denied himself little. And yet this man said he would much rather forfeit his own fortune than to watch his son fall before him.

I think just about any parent can relate to this. We almost take it for granted. A maturing process in parenting takes us obsessively selfish people, consumed with our own welfare, and turns us into altruistic saints. When we admit that we would willingly give up our lives so that another might live, we are saying that parenting has made us a little more like our blessed Savior, who gave his life so that his spiritual children could live: “Have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: . . . he made himself nothing, . . . by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:5, 7, 8).

Bing Crosby’s widow told how the famous entertainer once called her on the phone—he couldn’t wait until he got home to relay the news—and said, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Oh, what happened, darling?” she asked.

“Nathaniel [the Crosbys’ son] just won the men’s club championship at the Burlingame Country Club.”

Bing’s widow declared, “That was Bing’s happiest day. Not the songs or the films or any of his show business successes. Not our wedding. . . . The fact that his teenage son had become the men’s [golf] champion at the Burlingame Country Club.”

Once again, a man of great accomplishment and fame found his greatest joy in a relatively small feat performed by his son. At one time, Bing had the highest-selling single (“White Christmas”) of all time; country club championships are to sports achievement what Cup-a-Soup is to fine dining. Yet Bing gladly chose the lesser over the greater because the lesser had been accomplished by his son.

We find far more joy in feeling happy for our children than in rejoicing in our own accomplishments. Being a parent matures us by taking us from the adolescent stage of putting ourselves first and measuring everything against ourselves to finally caring more about someone else.

More and more young couples seem to be talking about never having children; they cite the costs, the hassle, and the disruption of their recreational lives. Financially, they may well come out “ahead” by remaining childless. They will probably have less heartache, certainly more peace and quiet, and undoubtedly more flexibility in their schedules. They may well be able to sign up more clients, perhaps design a better printer, or sell a few more copies of software.

But they don’t have a clue about what they’ll be missing spiritually.

Though at times dying to ourselves can feel very painful, it is the most liberating spiritual experience we can know. One of God’s most effective ways to accomplish this process is by giving us children, who, by their very presence, invite us to finally put someone’s welfare ahead of our own.

Of course, it overreaches the case a bit to assume that this journey from narcissism to altruism is a given for all parents—it’s not. But that’s our assignment for this week. Are we making this journey? Are we crossing this bridge? Or are we blinded by resentment for what these children take out of us and obsessed with what we must give up as we selfishly try to preserve our own welfare?

Let’s allow God to use our kids to bless us and spiritually prepare us by chipping away at our narcissism. Let’s lean in to this effect and embrace putting ourselves last. Since narcissism is such a potent enemy to kingdom service, our children do us a great service when they steal our hearts and finally lead us to consider someone else’s welfare and achievements as more important than our own.

Heavenly Father, we never knew we could care so much until you placed children in our home. Thank you for showing us how others’ welfare can matter even more than our own. Enlarge our hearts so that we can bring that same attitude to others outside our home. In Jesus’ name, amen.