Trinity Fellowship Assembly of God

Children are NOT Interruptions!

Matthew 1-2 & Luke 1-2    Pastor Tom Squashic
Father’s Day

MAIN THOUGHT: Every dad can gain a godly perception of his children by studying the ways Joseph responded.

The way we interpret life depends on our perception
of events and people.

Jesus could have been seen as a major interruption
into Joseph’s life.

Joseph’s responses to God

Matthew 1:24 - obedience to angel’s encouragement to marry Mary who was then pregnant with Jesus
1:25 - abstained from sexual relations until Jesus was born
1:25 - named Him Jesus instead of Joseph Jr. (Luke 2:21)
Matthew 2:13-15 - obedience - abandoned his carpentry business for 1-2 years until Herod’s death
2:19-23 - moved to Nazareth out of fear, but God’s plan was worked out

Joseph’s responses to Jesus

– protected Him
– provided for Him - physically, spiritually  (Lk. 2:41; 4:16)
– nurtured Him
– encouraged Jesus
– taught Him carpentry

AND THEN JOSEPH WAS GONE!

(We have no more references to Joseph being alive after Luke 2.  It is thought that he was somewhat older than Mary and died before Jesus was an adult.)

HELPS IN VIEWING YOUR CHILDREN

– Praise the Lord for His sovereign plan for your life!
– Thank God for your kids daily.
– Lord, what do You want to teach me through this child?
– Help me to see Your plan in having this precious child / son / daughter.
– Recognize that none of us knows how a child will affect the future.
– Raising a child in a God-honoring way IS God’s will for your life.

Men Ask Yourselves:

1.  Do I recognize my absolute need of God’s help to raise my children?

2.  Do I see my kids as my main priority in life (besides my wife)?

3. Ten years from now, what good memories will my kids have of me?

Son Gets An Hour A Day

“A young successful attorney said:
‘The greatest gift I ever received was a gift I got one Christmas when my dad gave me a small box.  Inside was a note saying,

Son, this year I will give you 365 hours, an hour every day after dinner.  It’s yours.  We’ll talk about what you want to talk about, we’ll go where you want to go, play what you want to play.  It will be your hour!

‘My dad not only kept his promise, but every year he renewed it — and it’s the greatest gift I ever had in my life.  I am the result of his time.’”

Tan’s Illustrations from Moody Monthly

4.  Are my wife and children more important than my job?

5.  Am I helping my wife by being a godly example to my children?

6.  Am I “pulling my weight” at home?

7.  Does my wife know that I love her and that I cannot live without her?

8.  Am I laying down my life for my wife and children? (1 John 3:16)

What changes do I need to make this week?

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A Father’s Confession

Author unknown, but it could be any father

“Listen, Son: I am saying this to you as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead.  I have stolen into your room alone.  Just a few minutes ago, as I was reading my paper in the library, a hot stifling wave of remorse swept over me.  I could not resist it.  Guiltily I came to your bedside.
These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you.  I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel.  I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes.  I called out angrily when I found you had thrown some of your things on the floor.
At breakfast I found fault, too.  You spilled things.  You gulped down your food.  You put your elbows on the table.  You spread butter too thick on your bread.  And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a little hand and called, ‘Goodbye, Daddy’ and I frowned and said in reply, ‘Hold your shoulders back.”
Then it began all over again in the late afternoon.  As I came up the hill I spied you, down on your knees playing marbles.  There were holes in your trousers.  I humiliated you before your friends by making you march ahead of me back to the house.  Trousers were expensive — and if you had to buy them you would be more careful!  Imagine that, son, from a father!  It was such stupid, silly logic!
Do you remember, later when I was reading in the library, how you came in, softly, timidly, with a sort of hurt, hunted look in your eyes?  When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door.  ‘What is it you want?’  I snapped.
You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed, again and again, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God has set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither.  And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me.  Suddenly I saw myself as I really was, in all my horrible selfishness, and I felt sick at heart.  What has habit been doing to me?  The habit of complaining, of fault-finding, of reprimanding — all of these were my rewards to you for being a boy.  It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected so much of youth.  It was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.
And here was so much that was good and fine and true in your character.  You did not deserve my treatment of you, son.  The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills.  All this was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night.  Nothing else matters tonight, son.  I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, choking with emotions, and so ashamed!
It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours, yet I must say what I am saying.  I must burn sacrificial fires alone, here in your bedroom, and make free confession.  And I have prayed God to strengthen me in my new resolve.  Tomorrow I will be a real daddy!  I will chum with you, and suffer and laugh when you laugh.  I will bite my tongue when impatient words come.  I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: ‘He is nothing but a boy — a little boy!’
I am afraid I have visualized you as a man.  Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby.  Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder.  I have asked too much, too much.
Dear boy; Dear little son!  A penitent kneels at your infant shrine, here in the moonlight.  I kiss the little fingers and the damp forehead.”