The Pride and Rejection of Children

Last week Hall of Fame football player Lee Roy Selmon died.  I did not know him personally, I have never eaten at his restaurant, and I do not recall seeing him play football for the Oklahoma Sooners or the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.  But last week while I was waiting for a coffee in Starbucks I read an article in the paper about him which brought me to tears. 

Actually, I am a man, so I didn’t cry, but my eyeballs were sweating really good.  As I read the article and even before I got to the most impactful part for me, I felt myself beginning to get emotional.  I knew God was preparing my heart for something.

During his induction speech for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, after being introduced by his brother Dewey, Lee Roy said that his family background was more noteworthy than his accomplishments as a football player. 

“People have said, ‘Your parents must be proud of you,’ but I’m more proud of them [emphasis mine],” he said. 

At this point I was weeping deeply.  But my weeping was not out of a sense of sadness for him and his family. I was weeping because of my desire for my children to one day say the same thing about me.

As I began to process my feelings in that moment, I began to minimize them.  “You are just being codependent”, I said to myself.  “You are too worried about them liking you.”

I do want my children to like me, so much that I am embarrassed to admit I often try to “buy” their affection in some way.  Treats, money, entertaining them, letting them pick what’s for dinner, etc. are all attempts to encourage them to like me.  In the end it really doesn’t work for me or them.

Then I get angry.  “Little twerps”, I think.  “I was always proud of my parents. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

I have really struggled through a lot of pain surrounding this issue of my children’s affection in the last couple years.  I believe I am a strong and loving father who has a lot to say to my children, but I seem to rarely have an audience in them.  Two years ago their mom and I divorced, and shortly after that I saw their attitudes and affections toward me greatly diminished.  It has been so painful.  I have really asked Jesus to shepherd me through it.  He has and He is.

One night recently all four of my children were in my girls’ room singing along with a song on my daughter’s ipod.  I walked into the room expecting to be welcomed and to join in the fun.  I got ignored.  I was so hurt by their rejection of me. I walked out of the room praying “God, I feel so rejected”.  I was hoping to get some comfort from that prayer, but instead this is what God said:

“Now you know what it feels like to be rejected by your children.”

Oof.  Busted.  That’s not what I expected to hear from God in that moment.  I consistently pray that God will help me see things from his perspective, but did He have to answer that prayer right then?

So what about my desire for my children’s affection?  How do I reckon that with my apparent need for approval from them?  God is so faithful, because even in the moments of tough lessons he offers such encouragement and hope.  He first directed me to the account of creation in Genesis:

“So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” (1:27)

I am created in the image of God.  All of me is created in His image.  My desire for my children’s affection, love, and respect is apparently a reflection of God’s image.  It is not only normal for me; it is what he desires from me (and you) also.  

One of my greatest joys is to be involved in my children’s lives.  I love the routine tasks of parenting – making meals, helping them with their homework, doing projects, taking them to school.  I take my 14 year old daughter to school a couple times a week and I love it - until we actually get in the car.  Did I mention she was 14?  Do I need to say any more?  It usually goes something like this:

Me: [with enthusiastic interest] “What classes do you have today?”

Her:  [shoulder shrug]

Me:  [frustrated] “You don’t know what classes you have today?”

Her:  [holds up her Biology book]

Me:  “Biology, huh?  So tell me about it.  Do you like your teacher?  Have you dissected anything yet?”

Her:  [in a frustrated tone] “No.”

Me:  “When are you going to dissect something?”

Her:  “I don’t know.”

Me:  “So what is your favorite class so far?”

Her:  [shoulder shrug]

Me:  [messing with her now] “You don’t know which class is your favorite?  How about one of your art classes?”

Her:  [deep frustrated sigh]

We are now pulling up to the school where I drop her off.

Me:  “Goodbye sweetheart.  Have a great day!  I love you!”

Her:  [looking out of the corner of her eye as she slings her book bag over her shoulder] [Silence].  [Shuts the door and walks away].

I am not sure whether to laugh or cry.  I guess it is funny because it may be expected from a 14 year old, and yet it hurts so badly too.   I love her more than I am capable of expressing.  I want a relationship with her.  I want to talk to her, hear what she is feeling, encourage her in her hopes and dreams, walk beside her, and help her.  Why won’t she realize that and engage with me?

When she was in Kindergarten and first grade we had a different relationship.  I miss it so much.  She used to love to go to work with me.  I remember one time she was so excited that school was cancelled because she got to come with me.  She swept a floor.  We painted a wall together.  Afterward we sat down and had ice cream.  I am not sure who had more fun that day, me or her.

I took a day off from work when she was in first grade to chaperon a field trip to a colonial era farm.  As we were riding back to school on the bus I asked her what she liked the most about the day?  She told me about the animals we saw, or the crafts we did.  When I asked her what she thought I liked the most about the day, she said “Being with me?”  Exactly right.

People have dreams, and my dream has always been to be a dad; a great dad; a family man.  So in a sense the breaking up of our family and the erosion of the relationship with my children has represented the loss of my dream. 

Every time I see a child with a deep attraction or affection to their dad, it hurts.  The other day I was in an elevator with a father and his 9 year old daughter.  They had their bikes and she was wearing a book bag so they were probably riding to school together.  She was so sweet and she hovered around her dad like a planet around the Sun.  I felt the tears coming again as I exited the elevator.  I heard her say “Are you ready to go, Daddy?” as I got into my car.  I sat there for a few minutes weeping in the beauty of that moment.

And then I remember what God said to me about rejection from His children.

Hasn’t God felt like this since he created man?  The Bible is full of episode upon episode of God waiting for His people to return to Him while feeling a range of emotions from hurt to frustration to anger.  Check out these excerpts from Hosea 2 as an example:

Hurt:  “She [His people, Israel] doesn’t realize it was I who gave her everything she has—the grain, the new wine, the olive oil;   I even gave her silver and gold.   But she gave all my gifts to Baal.” (2:8)

Anger:  “I will punish her for all those times when she burned incense to her images of Baal, when she put on her earrings and jewels and went out to look for her lovers but forgot all about me,” says the Lord. (2:13)

I would hate to be Israel in that moment, especially if that’s where God stopped.  But then, by his grace, He gives her yet another chance:

Forgiveness: “But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there.” (2:14)

Redemption:  “I will be faithful to you and make you mine,
      and you will finally know me as the Lord. “ (2:20)

“In that day, I will answer,” says the Lord. “I will answer the sky as it pleads for clouds.
 And the sky will answer the earth with rain. Then the earth will answer the thirsty cries of the grain, the grapevines, and the olive trees.  And they in turn will answer,
‘Jezreel’—‘God plants!’ At that time I will plant a crop of Israelites and raise them for myself. I will show love to those I called ‘Not loved.’  And to those I called ‘Not my people,’ I will say; ‘Now you are my people.’ And they will reply, ‘You are our God.’ (2:21-23)

I wonder if God knew His people would eventually mess up their lives enough doing it their own way that they would eventually come back.  I am not sure how God may limit his knowledge of the future.  As a former pastor of mine used to say, “God knows if he wants to know.” 

But I do know God takes the ultimate action of love toward us – giving us free will.  But we have to choose Him.  And my children have to choose me.  I can’t force them.  Love can’t exist where there is no free will.

So for now what do I do?  Keep pursuing Jesus and do what he does.  Never stop pursuing my children and wait.   I pray they will be proud of me some day.  When they are it will be one of the greatest moments of my life and it will have been worth the wait.

Jesus, I love you because you loved me and died for me even though you knew I would often reject you.  Fill me with a deep understanding of this truth so that I may endure the pain of waiting for my children to come back to me.  Make me a reflection of the real you so that they are drawn to you through me.  In your precious name I pray.