Wales Goebel tremendously impacted me as a young father, though the two of us never spoke. I heard him teach a Sunday School lesson and quickly gathered at first glance a man’s man with a tough-as-leather exterior, but evidently a gentle giant of a heart beneath. His father was mean as a snake and evidently as poisonous as one, too.

Every child, especially sons, faces a choice:

“I am what I am because of my dad, for better or for worse.”

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Or

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“I am what I am in spite of my dad.”

Mr. Goebel, apparently, decided on the latter.

He recounted the evening his wife encouraged him to spend more time with their kids, particularly Sunday afternoons. Although his wife was never convinced, the excuse for not doing so was “time for myself" out on the golf course with friends. After all, his reasoning went, he'd worked the previous six days, laboring hard to provide for her and the kids—reminding his wife (once again) of his difficult childhood, not having "two nickels in my pocket to rub together—poor as dirt," as he put it—which had no bearing whatsoever on their brief deliberation at hand.

What could they do on Sunday afternoon if he were willing to sacrifice his golf? He questioned.
"Just go riding in the car together, as a family, out in the country—that’s it?"

Begrudgingly, he agreed to try it out, but "only for one week."

"No golf? Riding around where all day to who knows where?" His buddies laughed, clearly perplexed, when he shared that Sunday’s plan. But that didn’t stop them from placing bets he’d return to the course in a week.

No less than 30 minutes down the road, riding in the summer with the windows rolled down, his oldest boy reached high over the driver’s seat, hugged his neck, and said,

“Daddy, I love you… thank you so much for spending time with us.”

Down the line, each child in succession (not having been coached by their patient mother) reached over the top of the seat too, one by one, hugging his neck and saying,

“Daddy, I love you too… thank you so much for spending time with us.”

Wales Goebel never picked up a golf club again.

He had made his choice:

“I am who I am, in spite of my dad.”

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A Challenge for Fathers

Have you noticed the stark distinction between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day?

For Mother’s Day, kids and husbands alike store up accolades miles high to heap on those who brought us into the world—which is fair enough.

Father’s Day, however, tends to be much different. For whatever reason, challenges to them feel more in order—and rightly so.

In that same spirit, Dads:

What are you willing to give (or give up) to win over the hearts and minds of your children,
which in turn could win over their very souls?

If sacrifice is a type of currency—and I believe it is—what price are you willing to pay?

In other words:

Do you see your me-time (mountain bikes, golf, hunting, running, etc.) as more valuable than your kids?

To the man—every one of you reading this—the answer will be an emphatic “No,” and I believe you are being completely sincere, without a doubt.

However—and this is a very significant however—what about that same question, but this time through the eyes of your kids?

We know kids listen with their eyes.
So what do they see?
Perception is everything.

Could it be that your kids see your hobby or activity as holding more value than they do?

The answer for many of you is yes.

So what are you going to do about it?

I’m not sure. That’s something only you can take to the Lord. But this much I do know:

A father’s example goes a long way.

As the great missionary John Paton once said:

“God was so real to my father that He became real to me.”

Fathers, do not run past that quote.

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Final Thoughts

What is it that the Lord has been nudging you about?
What thing do you need to lay down—or take up?

The Lord gets our attention, or should get our attention, through such nudges.
Pay attention to them.

Each of your children has a decision to make.

At some point in their lives, will they strive to look more like you—or less?

It’s a powerful question with high-stakes implications.

Make it easy for them to see Jesus' sacrifice in some small way through you.

How will they answer?

I hope and trust:

“I am what I am because of my dad.”