I have no greater joy than this: to hear that my children are walking in truth. —3 John 4
In the early 1970s, the company I was working for moved into a new office build- ing. The lot for the structure was in an area that someday would be completely developed with commercial buildings, but ours was one of the first to be built. Since we had some open space around us, we asked the developer if we could parcel out some land among our staff for vegetable gardens.
He agreed, so I planted my first “all-by-myself” vegetable garden. It was great. I rented a tiller, got the dirt all nice and loose, and planted seeds. But because this garden was a few hundred feet from any water source, I had to carry buckets of water to my growing and thirsty plants by hand. And as it got into late June and early July, my plants didn’t look as good as they had before.
So one day I went out and had a little talk with my garden. “You’re a disgrace,” I said to the limp greenery. “Just look at you. You’re getting all ugly and brown. Some of your leaves are wilting. Some of them are completely falling off. You ought to be ashamed.”
To be honest, that conversation didn’t really happen. June was dry that year, and those leaves did get a little brown, but I decided that if I was going to enjoy any harvest, I would have to carry water, a lot of water. Whether it was the right choice or not, I let them die. Vegetable gardens are too much work. This is why grocery stores have produce departments. I’m no vegetable garden’s water boy. Bring on the bulldozers. If this story is troubling to you, I’m sorry.
Sometimes a dad surveys his family and says, “Just look at you. You’re misbehaving and out of control. You’re an embarrassment to your mother and me. Why don’t you just shape up?”
“But wait a minute,” you might be saying. “Children are a dad’s responsibility.” And you’d be right. A dad is accountable, even on a hot July day after he’s put in a full day of his own work. It’s his job to carry the water and to care for those tender plants. A dad who stands in judgment without having done his part isn’t fit for the job.
“I have no greater joy than this: to hear that my children are walking in truth,” the apostle John wrote (v. 4). But aside from bringing their dad happiness instead of embarrassment, why is having faithful children such a great joy?
“Nothing worthwhile comes easily,” my dad used to tell me when I complained about the hard work of an assignment he had given me. Having obedient and well-balanced children is such a big thing for a dad because getting there is a lot of hard and—most of the time—thankless work—midnight treks for water and lots more.
Being a good dad is tough, like most of the important things in your life. But since you’ve decided to plant this “vegetable garden,” and since your plants need water, and since you’re not going to let the developer bulldoze your green beans, you’re ready for the work it’s going to take to have a productive harvest.
John called the reaping of what he had sown in his spiritual family his greatest joy. Someday, much sooner than later, your children will grow, have families of their own, and be your closest friends. Be willing to be your vegetable garden’s water boy. For you, the rewards of your hard work will be no different than the apostle’s—sheer joy.