Abba Who Art In Heaven

 

Abba Who Art in Heaven

April 2025

Isaiah 64:8 — Malachi 2:10 — Matthew 6:9-10 — Mark 14:36

 

The green eye on my phone winked, telling me my next appointment was here. The Robersons. Dean and Katie. Steadfast members of our church for as long as I’d been the pastor here. Over the years, I’d seen how their grasp of the gospel was a lot deeper than lip gloss. But why they’d made an appointment for counseling today? I’d know soon enough.

“Hey, Dean, Katie, come in, have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Water?

“Ah, not for me, Roger. Hon?”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

As she sat, Katie made a whirlwind scan of my office, letting her eye rest on my framed poster of Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son. She gave it a nod, patted her Bible.

Dean, head down, eyes on his shoes, made a “Whuf!” when he sat. He gave his Bible a soft thump with his fist.

“Ah. Uneasy are the heads that wear the crowns?”

“Mmm, that obvious? Is that from Proverbs?”

“Shakespeare. Henry the Fourth. So, what brings you two to my digs on this fine day? How can I be of help? And by the way, thank you for bringing your Bibles.”

Katie: “Sure. Ah, Roger, where to start. I guess what we need is some perspective. Clarification on … family stuff.”

Dean: “Time to blend some theological theory with practice, I think.”

“Aha. You have come to the right place. So. Tell me what troubles your uneasy heads?”

Dean: “Well, like you said. Who wears the crown. Like that.”

“Issues at home?”

Katie said, “Yeah, but not so much between Dean and me. No, it’s us and the kids. They’ve become an ornery, rebellious lot. They gang up on us. We squabble, not every night but often enough. Two, three times a week. The dreadful little beasts are threatening to mutiny. I’m tempted to send them to the Maldives, let ‘em forage for themselves, discover the realities of independence.”

“Maldives, huh. Why there?”

“It’s far away.”

“Tell me, when does this rebellion take place?”

“You mean what time of day?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Dean gave his cheek a rub. “Dinner time, mostly. And after.”

“Up until bedtime?”

Katie said, “Sometimes. We usually get a break when something comes on TV they want to watch.”

“So dinner time, everyone’s around the table. It’s a captive audience. Do you argue over the same topics or do they change?”

Dean said, “Conversations start out congenial enough until one of the kids says something Katie or I take issue with. One of us says something to correct it and it goes sideways from there. Topics change but it’s gotten to be like butting heads. We get the ‘Dad, you’re so out of touch, Mom, you’re so tight! You give us iPhones then tell us we can’t use ‘em the way we want. We want to go places with our friends, do stuff, and you say no! You help me buy my car then tell me how to drive, even where I can’t go.”

Katie jumped in. “Then we get hammered with the always and never accusations, you always tell us what we can’t do, you always make us feel stupid, you never trust us to use common sense, you always call down our friends, tell us they’re bad influences, you always try to put us on a leash, you never let us use our own judgment.”

Back to Dean: “Yeah, and that morphs into the if you really loved us whine, yada yada. It all escalates, push comes to shove, I blow my top and lay down the law. Joe Dictator.”

“We do try to repair the damage, though,” said Katie. “When things cool down, we bring the kids together, make our apologies then expect things to get better, pray for some peace to come our way. Nothing changes.”

“Okay, folks. Speaking of prayer, let’s do that before we go any further.”

We bowed together. “Lord, we come with praise and with thanks for all you provide. We ask now for a good measure of your wisdom and grace, pressed down and poured into our hearts. We pray for clear insight, wisdom wrapped in love, truth standing like a beacon of light before us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Dean gave me a look that if you looked up ‘doleful’ in the dictionary, you’d see his face. Katie’s expression was a stifled cry for hope. I fired off my most frequently-used silent two-word prayer, Lord, help!

“Now, just to make sure I’m on the same page with you, your kids are all in high school?”

“No, just Bruce and Allie. He’s a junior, she’s a sophomore. Kenny is in the eighth grade.”

“Okay,” I said, “so when push finally comes to shove, it ends with upset and loud voices. What comes next?”

Dean took a deep breath, crossed his arms, gave his head a shake.

Katie said, “Lately, Bruce storms out, gets in his car and disappears for a couple of hours. Allie and Kenny, they mostly scowl and tromp off to their rooms, cut off any further communication with heartfelt door slams. I think that describes what happens most nights, don’t you, Hon?”

Dean gave his wife a bobblehead nod, didn’t look at me. “Yeah. It does.” With his elbows on his knees, he cupped his head in his palms like it was too heavy. His snort reminded me of a tired bull.

I said, “So after the family squabble comes the storm of resentment?”

“Been standing outside and watching, have you?”

“Don’t need to. What you’re telling me isn’t anything new. Not only have I heard it before, Pauline and I have contended with the same issues with our daughters.”

Katie said, “That’s supposed to be encouraging?” Her grin reminded me of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.            I caught the snark, let it go. I asked instead, “Remember the old Bob Newhart show?”

Katie asked, “The one where he was a psychologist?”

“Yep. That one. Remember his answer to the client who kept doing the same thing over and over?”

“You mean, ‘stop doing that?’ Yeah. We don’t seem to know how. Can we just put them in a packing box and send them somewhere, say, like Dismal Seepage, Ohio, let ‘em come home, say, when they’re thirty?”

“Mark Twain had a similar idea. Said when boys reach teen-age, they should be put in wooden barrels and fed through a knothole until they were sixteen.”

“What happens at sixteen?”

“Plug up the knothole.” That got half a laugh. “Bruce, he’s sixteen?”

Katie said, “Uh huh. Allie’s fifteen. Just the other day, she gives us the, Dad, Mom, Sonya’s parents bought her a car so like when I get my license, you should buy me one too. You can imagine how that went.”

“Yep. Had that same conversation in our home, too. Twice. I think it’s part of teenager’s gene structure. Kenny, he’s twelve?”

Dean said, “Yeah, twelve. I liked him better when he was seven. Now he’s piggybacking on his brother’s attitude. Worse, when things get going, the little monster just sits back and smirks.”

“Either of you remember how you were with your own parents at that age?”

Katie said, “I’d rather not. I suppose you could call this payback.”

“When people have kids, teenage transition is inevitable. It’s a given, as predictable as sunshine. It’s the preliminary steps teenagers take in becoming adults. Psychologists call it ‘individuating.’”

Katie said, “Not that it helps to have a diagnostic word assigned to it. So what can we do?”

“Lets’ begin with God’s word. Look up Ephesians 6, verses 1 through 4. Dean, how ‘bout you read it out loud.”

Dean thumbed the pages, found the verse and read, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother – which is the first commandment with a promise – so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth. Fathers, do not exasperate your children. Instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.”

He set the Bible down. “For a long time, I thought we were doing that. We taught the kids to pray, we’ve had a regular devotionals after dinner. Kept them short, sweet. The kids seemed to be okay with it up until last year. Bruce’s sophomore year. That’s when the boil and bubble, toil and trouble started. I like this part here where it says, ‘children, obey your parents.’ The exasperation bit? Not sure about that.”

“Folks, notice these are family verses. These aren’t instructions telling mom and dad how to lay down the law. Rather, they call for family unity, for parents and children to reflect on each family member’s role. In this short sentence, Paul speaks of what works, what doesn’t. And from what you tell me, you’re in the what doesn’t work stage.”

“Yeah, Katie and I’ve read that passage more than once, with the kids, without the kids. We tell ourselves we’re making changes. The kids tell us we’re not.”

Katie added, “And they tell us with their actions more than their words.”

I gave them a moment, then said, “Dean, tell me what you think ‘exasperate’ means.”

“Well, frustrate. I guess.”

“Close, but it’s fuller than that. The Greek word here is parorgismos. It means ‘to be very angry and upset at someone or something.’ It embodies the idea of setting someone up so they will capitulate or even fail, which results in, as you have said, fathers laying down the law. It addresses both manipulation and legalism. So, more than frustrated, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Does that describe your more recent encounters?”

Katie’s eyes narrowed as she said, “Yes. It does.” She scrubbed her cheek, finger-combed her hair.

“Talk to me, Dean. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Snort. The tired bull again. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Because?”

“Because you’re telling us we’re not in control.”

“Well, to be precise, that’s not what I told you, it’s what you read in the Bible.

But you already knew that. Ah, let me recap what I think the exchange between you and the kids is like. Tell me if this is accurate. When they raise an issue that you disagree with, you try to bring some adult reasoning to it. That meets resistance, so you try to control it by exerting your parental authority. Their resistance fosters frustration in you, that escalates to anger, things move from reasonableness to exerting the force of will. More resistance, more frustration, tempers flare all around, nothing gets resolved. Good so far?”

Dean did a squeaky thing in his throat. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

You have been watching, haven’t you.”

“Nah. Don’t need to. Same thing happens in every household that has teenagers in it. Mine included.”

Katie asked, “So, what’ the remedy?”

“Let’s take a look at another verse. Let’s check out Matthew 20:25.”

They thumbed the pages, found the Matthew verse. Katie read. “Jesus called them together and said, You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave – just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many.

“Yeah? So?”

“Key words: lord it over. Exercise authority. Keep in mind your children are also your brothers and sisters in Christ. What Jesus said here applies to families no less than politics or the marketplace or the community. Fact is, I would posit that in the family, it has an even greater application.”

Like he’d been stung, Dean blurted, “Hey! We’re the parents, for cryin’ out loud! We’re the adults! We’re supposed to govern our kids! It’s how we teach them! Protect them!”

“But what’s the result of what you’ve been doing? Education? Protection? Or alienation? Dean, how about you give that passage a second read.”

“Uh, sure.” He mumbled, “… Gentiles lord it over … high officials exercise authority … wants to become great … be your servant …”

“How do you see yourselves in that? Lording or serving?”

“You’re saying Katie and I supposed to lead our children by serving them?”

“Not my words, Dean, but God’s. But let me interject another Scripture quote here. Look up Matthew seven, 1 and 2.”

“I’ll do that one,” said Katie. Pages flipped. She read, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. The standard you use to judge others will be the same standard applied to you.”

Dean jabbed his finger at me. “Oh, c’mon now, Roger! The Bible’s full of instructions how we’re supposed to be discerning!”

“How about you read the rest of the paragraph, Dean. Tell us what Jesus is describing.”

“Mnn, okay. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How then can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? Hypocrite! First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

            “Yeah. I see the difference. Jesus’ example is about criticism. And that is lording it over, I’m right, you’re wrong. I’m the judge, you’re the felon, you do what I say.”

“And what do you think this judge’s motivation might be?”

“To be the authority. The boss. The one in control.”

Couldn’t help but smile. And nod. “Just so you know, the Greek word for judge here is krinete. Means ‘to pronounce judgment, to be the sole arbiter of what is right or wrong. The one who determines what is good or bad, be it just or unjust.“

With an almost reverent care, Dean placed his Bible on his lap, closed the cover and his eyes. Two deep breaths later, he said, “Lording. Katie and I have been lording it over our kids. Bossing. Trying to enforce the issue with self-righteous parental anger. ‘Go to your rooms’ is just another way of saying if you won’t do what I want, I’ll just make you go away. Sheesh. Talk about a fool’s errand.”

Katie added, “Like it says, our kids judge us with the same standard we use with them: disrespect.”

Dean’s sigh could have stirred up a windstorm. He blinked a couple of times. His eyes telegraphed the humility he’d heard in the words his wife had just spoken.

Shaking of his head from side to side underlined his thoughts. “Roger, I … I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so intent on making things happen according to my rules, my way, all according to my understanding of how things are supposed to be done. How did we get so sideways?”

“Friends, this happens to most any family that has children. It’s called ‘being human.’ This is the same journey Pauline and I went through with our daughters not that long ago. We still encounter vestiges of it every now and then, reminding us to be thoughtful about how we speak to one other. That includes being alert to when we need to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. And the Scriptures you read? Same ones Pauline and I rely on to keep our family communication intact.”

“Huh. What we’ve been doing feels like endless rounds of  Whac-a-Mole.”

I let a minute roll by, then said, “So far, our focus has been primarily on the two of you. Suppose we expand this now, bring the kids in. At this point in your rocky relationship, what do you think they need?”

After all the years I’ve been offering pastoral counsel, I should be used to getting silence when I ask questions that call for a deeper dive. Dean and Katie looked at each other, back at me. Both gave me raised eyebrows and head shakes. I said, “Uh uh. Don’t look to me for the answer. You know where the answer is.”

Katie opened her Bible, fanned the pages, found the passage. “John 15:12. My command is this: Love one another as I have loved you.”

A frown squirreled across Dean’s face. “But we do love them!”

“No doubt. But from what you’ve told me about the state of your family today … do they know that?”

Dean made a face that said if ever there was an opportunity to cuss, this was it. When he looked at me, shame clouded his eyes.

I stifled my urge to hug him, tell him everything would be all right. Not the right time. Instead, I said, “I’d like to return to a comment you made, Katie, when we began. About the kids being a rebellious lot?”

“Ah, well, sure. What about it?”

“Consider rebellions that have made recent headlines. Tiananmen Square in ’89, Arab Spring in 2011. Syria more recently. What motivates people to rebel?”

Dean chewed his bottom lip, spat, “Oppression. Katie, darlin.’ That’s us, isn’t it. We’re like the oppressors of the family.”

“Folks,” I said, “I hope you appreciate how much truth-telling and courage it takes not only to recognize that but to speak it.”

“We kind of blew it, didn’t we. Lording it over our own kids. Man, I …”

“In Second Corinthians, Paul remind us, we do not rely on worldly wisdom but on God’s grace. Howsabout one of you tell me how you understand grace.”

Katie answered, “Uh. Well, there’s that definition I’ve heard twenty times before, like grace is unmerited favor, given freely, without strings. God gives us grace, no requirements, no preconditions. So … it’s a gift. A pure gift.”

“Well, that describes it. But in concrete, hands-on terms … what is it?”

“Um … mercy? Compassion?”

“Okay, good. How about acceptance?”

“You mean like accepting our children as worthy of grace instead of relying on  angry words to bludgeon them into compliance?”

“Wow. Bludgeon. That’s a heavy term. Is it accurate in your home?”

Katie said, “At times, yep.”

Dean added, “Mostly me. ‘Round yon verbal bludgeon hath found too much comfort in my mouth.” He held up his hand, palm out. Katie and I waited as he pondered, then came back with, “Okay. Because we’re the parents, we assume that we’re in control. I mean, we always have been. Anyway, that paves the way for us to challenge the kids when they want to go one way and we think it’s too risky and say no. Or, when what they want is just plain ‘ol unrealistic. For grace to have room to function, I think maybe what we need is a kind of a forum. Letting our differences run headlong into a battleground sure doesn’t work.”

Katie added, “Theory is, we override conflicting dialog with our children to ensure their compliance. And safety. But how we do this amounts to lording it over them. We parent! You children! We boss! You obey! We lay down law! Sheesh. It just dawned on me how disrespectful we’ve been.”

“Aha!” I said. “ John one five.”

“Beg pardon?”

“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. Katie, I like your idea of a forum. Can you expand on that?”

“Um, well, call a family meeting. Sit down at together, give everyone a chance to talk. Civilly. Respectfully.”

“I suggest you do this someplace neutral, not at the dinner table or the kitchen or a bedroom, those places are emotionally loaded. And the Scriptures we’ve considered today? Read them together. Have the kids read. Value their input.

Dean jumped in. “Katie, we’ve got to ask their forgiveness for the emotional and relational bruises we’ve caused.”

“I think you’ll find your children quite forgiving. They want what you want, a peaceful, respectful, supportive family.”

“Spiritual servanthood to our family, huh?”

“Indeed. A man’s got to know his limitations.”

“Now that’s Proverbs!” It was good to see Dean’s smile.

“Ah, no. Dirty Harry. How about this: Dean, propose a new way of dealing with each other – family negotiations.”

“Like the kids participate in setting the family rules to resolve differences?”

“Yes. That. Keep in mind that when your children were in their pre-school ages, you’ve protected and governed them by setting the boundaries, making the rules, administering the consequences, right? But with the arrival of the teen years, things change. Dramatically! Hormones go nutso, the frontal lobe begins its journey to rational thinking but it’s still got a long way to go. This is also when children begin to  look inside, to examine themselves, to evaluate who they are. When young people look inside and don’t like what they see, they experiment by trying on different personality traits they think will be more acceptable, attitudes and behaviors that ‘feel’ better.

“For youngsters who have a series of failed ‘experiments,’ the negation or erasure self becomes an attractive alternative.”

Katie said, “Hear ye, hear ye, opportunity abounds for the new teenager! A whole new field of avenues open up!  Newness to life! Fresh excitement. Adventure is on the threshold. Along with a lot of risk.”

“And of course, sex and drugs and alcohol are all part of the adventure package. As adults, we have witnessed the consequences. Our kids haven’t.”

I said, “You’re right, Dean. What they see is a cascade of opportunities, do this, try that. Factor in social networking that’s available with these wonderful-awful cellphones and it all magnifies the risk. Teen-agers today are right smack dab in the middle of an emotional and social Disneyworld times ten.

“Your teen-agers are changing. Your old parenting style of managing pre-teens needs to make commensurate changes. You’re still the parents but new ground rules need to be set, agreed on, what is acceptable, what isn’t, what are the consequences. And it’s appropriate for your children to participate in that process. They want their voices to be heard, their opinions to be measured and valued. They’re not little kids anymore. They’re on the cusp of learning how to be adults. They need parental leadership but in a revised form that considers the changes they’re experiencing, that respects them as individuals.

“Because they’re your brothers and sisters in Christ, they want to be treated as such.”

Dean said, “I know Bruce and Allie and Kenny are no less precious in the eyes of God, certainly in Katie’s and mine. I always knew that, but this, this shines in a different light on things. Yeah. John one five, for sure.”

“May I suggest this. At your family meeting, you and Katie begin by affirming your love and acceptance of your children. I think more than anything, children want their parent’s approval. This is a time to encourage them, thank them, assure them that they are loved and appreciated, that they’re good kids, worthy of not only your love but your respect. Recognize your shortcomings, talk to the about your ‘lording it over,’ recognize how it’s been abusive. Ask their forgiveness. Pour out the grace. Set the tone. Then, I suggest you establish two sets of family rules, negotiable and non-negotiable.”

“The non-negotiables being no sex, no booze, no drugs, mutual respect all around. Like that?”

“Yep. Stuff you’re all in agreement with. Include positive boundaries, too. When it’s time, talk about a willing attitude about servanthood.

“The negotiables now, that’s where your kids offer their opinions and the actual negotiations begin. Curfews, reasonable boundaries and such might be a good starting point. I know the five of you can figure that out. Then comes the tricky part – setting the consequences when they break the rules.”

“You mean like sixty days in chains, nothing but bread and water, like that?”

“I was thinking something more like, ‘you’re grounded,’ or, ‘surrender your cell phone or your car keys. No TV. Let them participate in the negotiation. They might surprise you with some good suggestions.’”

Dean looked at me straight on, gave me a nod. Katie’s eyes signaled hope.

“I’d like to add one more thing, folks. And this is important. Both of you, hug your children often. Hug them, speak their names and tell them you love them. This is not the good-buddy-side-to-side squeeze, this is the full on wrap-them-in-your-arms- and-let-them-know-this-is-real hug. This is no routine, not the ‘love you’ tacked on to ‘have a good day’ as they go out to door. This is the heartfelt rock-of-Gibraltar assurance they can stand on.”

Dean said, “Roger, thank you. This change of perspective, it’s really helpful.”

“It has been an honor, Dean. Katie. Let’s pray.”

We stood, hands joined, heads bowed, and prayed our thanks to God for his Word, to Jesus for his sacrifice for helping us to understand how walking in the Kingdom of God was so much different – and better – that stumbling along in the Kingdom of This World.

As Dean and Katie left my office, I said, “See you soon, friends. My best to the kids.”

A wave and a teary glance carried a basketful of thank yous.

My thoughts rambled back to others I’d counseled, young men and women who had not been so fortunate to have parents who were willing to learn from the Bible, who perpetuated generational styles of verbal and emotional abuse. Who would have benefited from parents who had given them some measure of grace, of kindness instead of weaponizing criticism and condemnation. It was the all-too-common parental betrayal that I’d encountered too many times – the failure to protect and provide, giving way to crippling shame and domineering egos, succeeding only in producing one more generation of wounded spirits.

I thought how Jesus brought us the gospel, offered it – continues to offer it – no charge, results guaranteed. I am the way, the truth and the light, he said. Come to me all you who carry heavy burdens of shame and misery, all you whose wounded spirits have left you bleeding on the side of life’s roadway … come to me and I will give you rest … I will heal your wounds … I will love you and embrace you in arms of grace.

Jesus, Father to the fatherless.

Indeed.

Abba Who Art In Heaven © copyright 2022 Peter K. Schipper