Steve Chapman - 10 Ways to Prepare Your Son for Life

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

EUGENE, OREGON

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the New American Standard Bible, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Verses marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Verses marked TLB are taken from The Living Bible , Copyright 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Minneapolis, Minnesota

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10 WAYS TO PREPARE YOUR SON FOR LIFE

Formerly published as 10 Things I Want My Son to Know

Copyright 2002 by Steve Chapman

Published 2013 by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

ISBN 978-0-7369-5268-2 (pbk.)

ISBN 978-0-7369-5269-9 (eBook)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chapman, Steve.

10 things I want my son to know / Steve Chapman.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-0-7369-0737-8 (pbk.)

1. FathersReligious life. 2. Fatherhood (Christian theology) 3. Fathers and sonsReligious aspectsChristianity. I. Title: Ten things I want my son to know. II. Title.

BV4846.C47 2002

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This book is dedicated to the two men in this world who mean the most to me .

To my dad, P.J. Chapman, who passed his love to me, and to my son, Nathan, who now receives the results of that love .

Contents

Have you ever stopped to ask, Why did God give human babies a nine-month gestation period? One reason could be that it takes that much time for a first-time father-to-be to fully realize the seriousness of what he has done and brace himself for the way his life is going to change.

Imagine finding out on a Tuesday that your wife is pregnant and on Wednesday afternoon, bam! the kid pops out. Emotionally it would be like driving down the interstate at 75 miles per hour and somebody dropping a brick wall on the road in your lane. Life, as you knew it, would come to an abrupt halt. In essence, its Gods grace that allows us monthsnot hoursto prepare for a newborn.

Even with plenty of time to reorganize our lives, when Annies and my first child came along in March of 1977, the changes were drastic. No more spontaneous, after sunset trips to the local tennis courts to play all night (or until I could win!). No more unplanned drives to the Nashville Music Row IHOP Restaurant for a midnight pancake snack and a session of watching the weirdos. These adventures once unrestricted by the responsibilities of parenthood, became a thing of the past.

Our lifestyle experienced some serious alterations because of the coming of a baby. The decor in the spare bedroom of our duplex lost its hippie pad feel. The large, round, heavy, wooden telephone cable spool that we were using for a dining room table and the four milk-crate chairs were carried to the curb. There they waited to be picked up by either the city dump truck or another grateful hippie couple. In place of those pitiful items was a beautiful, borrowed crib equipped with a garage-sale mobile that played a soft lullaby as it slowly turned. The burlap curtains came down and were replaced with some nice Winnie the Pooh window treatments. These and a few other designer decorations by Fisher-Price were only a shadow of the mountain of changes we would face.

While in his infancy, my job in caring for our son was focused mainly on his body and belly. Though I did very little during this time except the gross stuff, like changing dirty diapers and catching drool drippings on my face when I held him high, I knew that eventually his soul and spirit would require my undivided attention .

When the actual B-day arrived, bringing with it the painful transition contractions that caused Annie to give me some really hateful looks, the shock of reality went even deeper into my formerly carefree heart. The moment Nathans little womb-warm body met the sterile cold air of the delivery room, he cried like awella baby! My first thought was, If thats how hes gonna act, just put him back! Annie would not have agreed to it, so I did the smart thing and kept my mouth shut.

That March morning yielded the most sobering of the changes I would have to face. I realized our care for him would no longer be automatic. Up until then, he had been silently mooching off his mamas meals and staying quietly out of sight. I had little to do other than enjoy his occasional kicks that I could feel as I gently palmed Annies rounded stomach like a basketball. However, in the instant the razor sharp scissors sliced through his umbilical cord, the low-maintenance era was over. From then on, being a dad had to be voluntary and deliberate. The plethora of details required to just make sure he would be alive at the end of each day was mind (and body) boggling. Keeping him fed, cleaned, clothed, and comfortable became full-time employment for two adults.

While in his infancy, my job in caring for our son was focused mainly on his body and belly. Though I did very little during this time except the gross stuff, like changing dirty diapers and catching drool drippings on my face when I held him high, I knew that eventually his soul and spirit would require my undivided attention. It was about the time he started walking and forming intelligible words that I consciously added the responsibility for his spiritual growth to my list of daddy duties.

With such an eternally serious charge staring me in the face, I was motivated to seize my chance at preparing to become his soul provider. I pondered the things I would want him to know, searched the Scriptures for wisdom and guidance, and leaned on veteran dads for helpful advice. (One well-seasoned father told me, If your kids turn out smart its because they sucked the brains out of your head. If not, they had nothing to draw from! The good news is that more than a quarter of a century has passed since I became a dadand Im still talking coherently.)

I willingly admit that I was not a perfect father. Who on earth is? When we get to heaven none of us, especially parents, are going to hear, Best done thou good and faithful servant (see Matthew 25:21). Instead, for our very best efforts, all we will get is a well done. Only one Father has been flawless. Still, I believe I did do one thing right. I trusted God when He said He supplies all of our needs according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19). This is my ultimate comfort.