We have all heard the phrase “the sins of the father.” It can be characterized in a couple of ways. First, a sinful lifestyle whose repercussions impact the following generation. And while the Scripture does say that a child is not held responsible for the sins of his or her father, there still can be temporal consequences. Perhaps the single most impactful sin, or failure, of a father is to be absent. The single biggest contributing factor to childhood delinquency, is the lack of a father…more specifically a dad…in a child’s life. The impact can last a lifetime. But there is another “sin of the father” that can be just as impactful. Eli is a prime example of a failed father, not because of his absence but because of his lack of parenting. Eli was a priest and judge. He was a descendent of Aaron, who God had given to him and his descendants. It was both an honor and privilege, which unfortunately Eli flouted. His sons Hophni and Phinehas were out of control. They disrespected the sacrifices left at the alter and the women who were at the door of the tabernacle. The behavior was so bad that God sent a “man of God,” likely prophet, to Eli to address the issue. Eli was called out because he did nothing to stop them. In fact, in some cases, he joined in with them. They were the ultimate feral children. Eli completely enabled them and fed into their sense of entitlement. Eli and his family line would have the privilege of the priesthood removed. They would literally die off. All because Eli failed to act as a father to his sons, as they ran roughshod over him. Any man can be a father. The physical act alone makes that so. Having children is the single most important decision that can be made in a marriage. It becomes a commitment not just until the kids leave the house, but for a lifetime. My dad did not stop being “Dad” just because I got married, had a career, had children. Throughout his living years he remained my most important “go to” on questions about marriage, kids, career, and the list goes on. Growing up, we had boundaries. If my siblings crossed them, there would be consequences. But we always knew that it was out of love and the desire for us to learn what it means to be an adult. When Jennifer and I decided to have children, we at least had a second-hand sense, from our own upbringing, of what to expect. We gave our sons more room as they grew, but they were never allowed to hit the open range with no rules. Sure, they pushed the limits (so did I), but they knew not to cross them. I never sought to be my son's best friend. My role as “Dad” is far more important. We are called to be our child’s parent, not their pal.
