the discipline of open hands

if there is one thing that i have learned in my 5 and a half weeks of parenting, it is that there are plenty of things to worry about when it comes to your kid. while we are super glad to have him safely out of the womb, and even though annie's pregnancy probably had a bit more drama than is typical, there is way more stuff to worry about now than when he was on the inside. from the word go, i have been bombarded by the what ifs: what if he can't hear? what if he can't see? what if he has autism? what if he is not supposed to be doing that with his arms? what if he likes ninjas better than pirates? at times it has been downright frightening.

i assume it is a natural part of parenting, that all parents worry about their children, and the number of junior high students i know with safety cell phones tells me this is true. the world can be a scary place, full of danger, plagued with evil. you want to protect your children, to keep them safe, to help them avoid pain. you want to prevent their lives from being destroyed.

this is why the story of abraham and isaac strikes me as one of profound stupidity. i am certain abraham loved isaac, wanted to keep him safe, especially since there was such a tremendous promise placed squarely upon the shoulders of his son. abraham was probably the archetype for the protective first time parent, even though isaac was not his first.

imagine the absurdity, the scandal, the kick in the gut when abraham heard the call: "take your son, your only son, whom you love and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering...". take your son, the son that you would die for, the son that you would kill for, the son that you would give anything for to ensure his safety, and become the agent of his destruction.

kill your son.

the only thing more insane is that abraham sets out to do it. his resolve holds strong for three long days of traveling. the fire in his gut causes him to bind his son, place him on an altar, and raise the knife above his head before being granted a reprieve.

to be honest, i have no idea how abraham got to this point. i don't know what sort of decisions he made in his life that enabled him to be so ferociously devoted. i am not even sure he would have done it. what i do know is that it teaches me something about the absolute necessity of parenting, and living, with open hands.

a few years ago annie was wounded by some things that had been said about her. while in prayer, she felt God was calling her to live with open hands, a gesture not only of a willingness to let go, but also a posture of being open to receive. in our world of temporary, we have a tendency to hold onto things too tightly. whether the kind words of a friend, or the stinging insult of an enemy, we clinch our fingers round, often missing out on greater gifts.

isaac is one of our most amazing gifts. the simple thought of losing him makes me want to throw up. when i think of some of the things that could potentially happen to him, killing someone to avenge my son does not seem terribly far off. i want to hold him close, to keep him safe, to protect him always. ironically, at that point i would be his undoing.

ultimately my role as a father is not as a keeper, but as a steward. if i refuse to let go, to offer him back, i will destroy him. while i am all for responsible parenting, they are not my hands that formed him, they are not my hands that gave him life, and they are not my hands that will redeem him. my hands must be open, holding him loosely, lest i choke the breath God has given.

regardless of how great being a husband, a father, or anything else may be, it is not these these things that are going to satisfy me. they cannot be my identity, they are not made of stuff strong enough to support that weight. it must come from a deeper source, a wider source, so that i may extend freedom, offer space, and live with open hands, lest my expectations, hopes, fears, and regrets become the ties that bind him, place him on the altar and slay who he was truly created to be.