There’s going to come a day – and it is soon – when I am going to start pushing you to fulfill your potential. Your mom wants to start pushing you now, but I’m convinced that you’re perfectly content on your back, and have no desire whatsoever to roll over, capable or not. I’ll be pushing you in a lot of areas: taking care of your body, your grades, your hygiene, your cleanliness and, most importantly, how you should respect your mom.
I can guarantee that by the time you’re a teenager, you’ll think I am a tyrant bent on controlling the entire world, but since I can’t, I’m taking it out on you.
The reason that you will feel this way is because I will have lost focus. I know that I have (even though I’m writing this over a decade in the past) because I always lose my focus on things that matter the most. Hopefully I’ve broken this before you read this, but as an example, right now I can spend entire days watching (and live-tweeting) football games. What a waste.
With you, I’ll become so focused on grades, how clean your room is and that you should never speak to your mom over a certain decibel limit that I’ll forget that really there should be one single passion I should be instilling in you: glorifying Christ. Don’t get me wrong. Good grades, clean rooms and respect for authority are good things that I do want to instill in you, but they are not nearly the most important thing. And when you drive away into adulthood, if those are the only things I’ve taught you, I have wasted my chance at parenthood.
You see, I have spent my entire life trying to figure out how to become rich. By the way, I’ve failed in pretty dramatic fashion at that. When I realized I didn’t have any idea on how to become rich, I switched my goal from riches to becoming the most likable person in the world. As many, many people will tell you, I’ve failed awesomely at that, too.
You might be thinking: “What’s wrong with being rich and/or liked?” And the answer is “nothing.” I hope you are the richest guy that ever did so many generous, awesome things with his money that you receive 37 separate Nobel peace prizes in the category of “awesomeness.”
The problem is my motivation. Why did I want to get rich? To buy cool stuff, that’s why. Why do I want people to like me? To make me feel important, and to make me feel good.
At the end of the day, none of that matters in the slightest. Imagine me in front of Christ someday telling him, “Look at all my friends, Lord. And my money! Aren’t you impressed?” He would not be. I would have wasted my life.
I know you’re going to do great things in your life. And I plan to teach you all kinds of things. I can’t wait to teach you how to tie your shoes, how to tie a tie, how to change a tire, etc. But I will have failed as your father if I don’t teach you to use all of those gifts and talents to follow one single passion: glorify Christ.
I am so ridiculously excited that I get to be your daddy, and I hope that every day I made sure I showed you how much I love you.