Cameron McAllister - Faith That Lasts

I was an expert at parenting... before I had children!

When my wife, Yodit, and I married, few things were as certain in our hearts as having a big family. We prayed that the Lord would bless us with precisely six children. I am still not sure how we arrived at that exact number. But, in the early days of our marriage, we settled on having three boys and three girls. We were confident that the beautifully symmetrical vision we had for our future family was Gods plan for us. We even went as far as deciding on each of their names. My overconfidence in my parental abilities extended well beyond simply identifying cute names for our yet-to-be-born children. In those preparenting days, I could also tell you, with great pride, the sure-fire plan I had for shaping my children spiritually, as well.

While we were still anticipating children, I would sometimes daydream about what our family worship times were assured to look like. In the Thomas Kinkadeesque portrait of my mind I am sitting in a handcrafted rocking chair, finely dressed, wearing my favorite ascot and smoking jacket, while holding a freshly bound leather Bible in my hands. In this imaginary scene, Yodit would use her melodious voice to lead our well-groomed children and me in a beautiful hymn. All six of our kids would be perfectly manicured, sitting quietly with full attentiveness, pleasant smiles, and in total compliance with our every command. As I opened my Bible to the perfect passage of Scripture, a beam of golden sunlight would come rushing through the window of our cottage-style home and land softly on the page that I was reading. I would teach an impeccable devotional lesson. My wife and kids would be in awe of my spiritual brilliance and quickly affirm that my insights were directly from the Lord. I would, of course, agree with their assessment. We would then have one of our just-shy-of-perfect children say a closing prayer in which they would express tremendous gratitude over the sheer privilege of being a member of such a splendid family.

Looking back, I laugh (as I am sure that you are as well) at how wonderfully naive I was and how hopelessly foolish my foolproof plan would prove to be. It would not be long before God burst my little fantasy family bubble with something that was far less my ideal and far more his perfect plan for us. What I didnt know then, but I do now, is that God was taking two partially formed lumps of clay and forming us on his potters wheel into something beautiful. His process would take more time than we had hoped and be far more painful than we ever could have imagined. He would shape us by using the type of blows that come only from the gentle but firm hands of a master sculptor and a loving Father.

It would be seven years before God would bless us with our first child. Christopher would come to our family through the beauty of adoption. He was seventeen and we were a very young twenty-seven. How his adoption came about is an account far too long and intimate for these pages, but suffice it to say that God was writing our familys love story in amazing yet unexpected ways. When we opened our home and hearts to Christopher, it was clear that this was Gods plan for our family. It was also quickly clear that, while we were overjoyed that God had called us to be Chriss parents, we were in over our heads.

I was an inexperienced dad, whose attempts at discipleship, though sincere, often failed because they were riddled with false assumptions. My first assumption was that I could simply teach my son into Christlike character and maturity. I had not yet learned the artful skill of catechism, and Chris wasnt interested in my well-formed lesson plans; he wanted to have real talks about his doubts and struggles with sin. But unfortunately, my fears of inadequacy seemed to prevent me from having the type of deeply honest and transparent conversations that his soul so desperately longed for. Our devotional times didnt look anything like a Thomas Kinkadeinspired painting. They were messy and looked more like they were ripped out of a kids coloring book most days, and I was certainly coloring outside the lines.

Looking back, I lament that there were many days when I seemed to push Chris further away from me and from Christ by using a fear-based parenting approach. Not that I was threatening or overbearing in my fathering of Chris, I just falsely assumed that a fire and brimstone, scared-straight method of discipleship that was centered more on the consequences of his mistakes than on the all-sufficient grace of God was the right way of dealing with deeply rooted sin patterns. I am not sure why I assumed this would work for him, because it certainly had not worked in my life. Chris had rightly looked to me to help him with the internal battles he had warred against his entire life, and regrettably I had applied a shallow remedy instead of delving deep into his heart. I would later discover that helping him to find the freedom he had longed for would require something of far greater substance, and it would also transform me in the process.

I wish I had at my fingertips then the type of book that you are currently reading. Dont get me wrong, Christ was certainly gracious to my son and me. In our sincere pursuit of him, his loving hand guided us to real spiritual breakthroughs. In spite of my ill-conceived plans, we were blessed to stumble upon our fair share of victories along the way. But these wins only came when I was humble enough to do away with my erroneous preconceived notions about parenting and what it meant to cultivate a heart for Christ in my child. My hope in sharing my own mistakes and failures is to help other fathers and sons avoid them.