A Thread of Consistency
For a gift several years ago, Tasha’s mom and aunt spent several weeks quilting her a memory blanket–a blanket made up of scraps of t-shirts and other memorabilia from Tasha’s childhood–pieces of cloth that had special significance in Tasha’s life at various stages. It was a pretty special gift.
Now, I don’t know much about quilting–and let it be known that that’s a good thing–but I do know that throughout the process, the entire thing hinges on a central thread, a central weave, a common starting and continuing point. It’s all held together by a common, consistent thread.
This morning my pastor posted a blog challenging the men in our church to step up and be the godly leaders that God has called us to be for our families–to live lives of consistency in our homes. I think as husbands and fathers striving to be men of God in a depraved culture, the challenge comes in making it stick in the home–living out what we preach under our own roof–where little ears are listening intently–where little eyes are watching our every move–watching for consistency.
I’m thankful that I had, and still have, a dad who modeled this type of example in our home (About this time last year my dad stepped out on a limb for me, risking his image in the face of a particularly influential group of people in order to come to my aid. I wrote a post last year about my reaction to it and my increased respect and honor for him). As a pastor’s kid, I watched my dad day in and day out live out in our home exactly what he preached from the pulpit. There was a consistency that ran through everything he taught, said and believed like the central thread in a quilt holding the whole thing together. That central thread of consistency was what drew me to Christ years later as a teenager.
And now I’m faced with the same challenge. To live a life that emulates Christ in the home. My kids often see me singing and leading people in worship, and sometimes, during rehearsals, Tasha will sit them down in front of the stage in their booster seats as they eat their meals with beaming eyes. I see them watching, observing (though sometimes they are lost behind the layer of food caked on their faces and I wonder, as I’m singing, who that pizza thinks he is eating my kid’s face like that). They’re beginning to understand what I’m all about–from a limited perspective, no doubt, but a perspective nonetheless. And so I’m challenged to live it out. I’m challenged to be real. To one day help them make some minutiae of sense out of tough situations–like when their friends’ dads walk out on their families. I pray to God everyday that He will keep me a man of purity, a man of integrity, a man of the Word and a man of my word.
Last year at a leadership conference I heard John Maxwell make this statement in regards to maintaining moral purity and integrity,
“Everyday I wake up scared to death that I have the capacity to blow it. I never live under the assumption that I am beyond the capability of falling and failing morally.”
That’s where I want to live–never assuming that moral failure is beyond me. That I’m always just one choice away from losing everything. For me, this becomes a driving force, a catalyst, an impetus to wake up everyday cradled in the arms of my Savior, putting on the armor of God and allowing Him to live His life through me–trusting that He is helping me to weave a thread of consistency in my life that will hopefully one day be evident to my kids.