Last week, I spoke one of, if not the most difficult, messages of my life. But in another sense, it was one of the easiest. Because I was speaking about my father.
As I preached his funeral, I reflected on a life defined by faith in Jesus Christ, devotion to family, and a deep love for this country. But as I’ve thought more about it, I’ve realized something: his life wasn’t just a story to remember, it’s a model to recover.
Especially today. Because we are living in a time when the role of a father is being diminished, redefined, or abandoned altogether. And the consequences are everywhere.
My father wasn’t a perfect man. But he was a present man. I am hard-pressed to remember a time when he wasn’t there: for his family, his responsibilities, for the moments that matter. Presence is powerful. You can outsource many things in life, but you cannot outsource fatherhood. You cannot delegate it to a school, a screen, or a system. A father must be there.
But presence alone is not enough.
My father also understood that faith was not something you simply claimed, it was something you lived. As Scripture states, “faith without works is dead.”
He didn’t just talk about the Bible; he taught it. And more importantly, he modeled it. Like the winter day he came home without his only coat. Having come upon an accident, a first responder by nature, he wrapped the critically injured man in it to prevent shock. That’s not theory. That’s conviction in action. That’s what children remember. And that’s what shapes them.
There was also discipline. Not the kind our culture often rejects, but the kind that forms character.
When I was a boy, my father gave me what I thought was a punishment: to read a chapter of Proverbs every day. What I didn’t realize at the time was that he wasn’t just correcting behavior, he was building a foundation. Because a father’s responsibility is not merely to raise children, but to prepare them. To prepare them for life. To prepare them for truth. And ultimately, to prepare them for eternity.
That’s where the deeper issue lies. We are not just facing a crisis of culture; we are facing a crisis of formation. And it begins in the home.
Fathers, your role is irreplaceable. You are called to lead, not with domination, but with devotion. To love your wife. To invest in your children. To stand for what is right. To help those in need. To live in such a way that your life becomes a testimony your children cannot ignore.
That kind of life doesn’t happen by accident. It requires intention. And it requires surrender — to God.
My father’s life changed when he encountered Jesus Christ. I was there, and I saw it. And over time, that transformation became evident, not in perfection, but in direction. He became a man marked by humility, compassion, and grace. That is the kind of legacy that lasts. And that is the kind of legacy our nation desperately needs. Fathers who choose to be present. Who choose to be faithful. And who choose to lead. Because in reality, the future of our nation is not in the hands of Washington, it’s in the hands of fathers.
