…But made himself of no reputation and took upon him the form of a servant… Philippians 2:7
I value my reputation. I protect it. I try to strengthen and build it. Give it a better foundation. Try to increase the ratio of successes to failures. It can become an issue of survival to me. A good reputation wins, a bad one loses. I can’t afford to lose. I am the father of 4 children. My enterprise must succeed for my family to thrive. Right?
My teenage years (the 90s) were spent growing to adulthood on a grain farm in Western Kansas. At that time GPS guidance on equipment was merely a fantasy for most farmers, including my dad. Most of our family farm at that time was flood irrigation. We had numerous 40 acre sections of land that were rotated between corn and wheat from year to year. Before the fields were planted in the spring, they had to be “furrowed out”. This established the bed and furrows that allowed the field to be effectively irrigated. The implement used for furrowing had hydraulically operated markers. As one pass was being made, a mark was made in the soil so that when you reached the end and turned around you had a line to follow for the next pass. This created evenly spaced beds for all the following operations, planting, cultivating, etc. That was the theory anyways, the evenly spaced beds part…
There were, and still are, many farmers in that community. And it was somewhat of a source of pride and an indication of your farming skills if you could pull a straight furrow. A well furrowed field was aesthetically pleasing.
One year when it came time to furrow out the wheat ground, my dad told me I should furrow out all of the fields, a couple of 40 acre pieces as I remember it. This was a first for me. Of course, I had been driving tractor for years but had never been entrusted with such a critical operation. I did my best. And I was very aware that every person driving our road would examine those rows. There are a lot of adjectives that could be used to describe those rows, none of them good. I recall asking for advice from my older brother and I’m sure my dad as well. I don’t remember my dad giving a lot of help. He isn’t a man of a lot of words. I recall my brother giving me suggestions, all of which I tried, and none of which helped. Eventually the job was done and there they were, dozens of inconsistently spaced and meandering rows for everyone to examine and criticize at will for the next year.
Over the following days I noticed that when dad and I would drive by those fields he would slow down a little and look at them, never saying anything. I could only imagine what he was thinking. I recall only one time when those rows were mentioned. Dad and I were visiting with my Uncle Victor and Victor asked me what I had been doing or how I had been staying busy. Dad piped up and, with a note of pride in his voice, stated that I had furrowed out all his wheat ground. There were no further comments indicating that I perhaps needed some more practice, or that I needed to fine tune my technique.
This experience continues to teach me a lesson on fatherhood. My dad was willing, and very possibly did, sacrifice his reputation and a certain image of success that had been years in the making. Not only in this instance but in just about every memory that I have of those years, dad was interested in my success. He understood that I would need to experience the frustration of learning through practice. He took a very real risk that in supporting my various and diverse endeavors, they would fail and make him look bad. From my perspective, he is a living example of the verse in Philippians 2:7. He has disregarded and risked his own reputation and been a servant to my success. I believe that is a copy of Christ, our heavenly Father. I’ve had some egotistical and short-sighted ideas, but I have never felt a lack of support from my dad, and he has done everything in his power to help make them happen.
As a father, I am finding that this particular spirit of sacrifice is not natural for me. How will my reputation be affected if I allow my boys to be involved in a particular project? How will the first family song we sing in church go? Will the children come through and help me maintain the public image I have worked diligently to build? Or will I need to do some repairing and explaining and justifying as to why we got the results we did? Do I make excuses for them, and by doing that make them feel insufficient? Can I put them on the tractor, drive away, and give them a shot at learning at my expense? Can I sacrifice everything that I have invested in, my image, reputation and good name for the sake of their eventual success? To me, that’s a Father Heart.
David Smith (30’s) – 4 Children
