Recently I have been devoting more time in studying the Old Testament, and my thinking in many areas is slowly being changed by the text. Some of the areas where my views are being slowly transformed include my views on personal service to God, parenting, and family and marriage. Up until this point, if you asked me what my greatest singular mission in life was, I would say that it is to preach the Gospel to the world as the Apostle Paul did. Up until this point, I have mostly viewed marriage and family building from an individualistic perspective. I see marriage as mostly an enterprise between two individuals in which the two parties glorify God together and enjoy each other’s companionship and spur each other to spiritual maturity.
However, as I read the OT more, I am seeing that the ideas of “seed”, “offspring”, “line”, “descendants”, and “house” as prominent themes. It seems as if in the ancient Jewish culture, a man’s honor is intimately linked to his descendants. I am getting the feeling that in OT times, a man is more than just who he is and what he accomplishes in his lifetime. A man and his legacy is largely defined by his offsprings.
Consider the following biblical texts:
Genesis 17:5-7 “No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful, and I will make nations of you, and kings will come forth from you. I will establish My covenant between Me and you and YOUR descendants after you throughout their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your descendants after you.”
Numbers 25:10-13 “Then the LORD spoke to Moses, saying, ‘Phineahas the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron the priest, has turned away My wrath from the sons of Israel…Therefore say, ‘Behold, I give him My covenant of peace; and it shall be for him and his descendants after him, a covenant of perpetual priesthood…'”
2 Samuel 7:8-12 “Now therefore, thus you shall say to My servant David, ‘Thus says the LORD of hosts, “I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, to be ruler over My people Israel…The LORD also declares to you that the LORD will make a house for you. When your days are complete and you lie down with YOUR fathers, I will raise up your descendants after you, who will come forth from you, and I will establish his kingdom.”
Psalm 127:4-5 “Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; they will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.”
Job 42:12-13 “the LORD blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning; and he had 14,000 sheep and 6,000 camels and 1,000 yoke of oxen and 1,000 female donkeys. He had seven sons and three daughters…after this, Job lived 140 years, and saw his sons and his grandsons, four generations…”
In all of these texts, a man takes pride in both the number of his descendants and the prosperity of his descendants. God’s greatest reward for the faithfulness of Abraham and David did not come in the form of good in their lifetimes (even though they both experienced much good while they were alive). Rather, God’s greatest reward to them was the abundance and exaltation of their offspring. Abraham was more than a hero of faith, he is the father of many nations. David is more than a godly king, he is the father of the King whose reign has no end.
A man is more than the sum of the things he accomplishes in the short years of his life. A man is more than his personal conduct and accomplishment. He is the progenitor of the many that come forth from him. He is the father of his seed, head of his house, the start of a line. There seems to be this implicit understanding in the OT that a man is finite and limited, but he becomes greater than who he is by the legacy he leaves to continue through his house.
This line of thinking challenges my sense of self-importance in the kingdom of God. I tend to see my personal service to God as the end game of God’s working through me. I have always aspired to be someone like David, who did great things for God and took on a prominent role in the Biblical narrative. But maybe God’s plan for me is that I would be more like a Jesse, who is mentioned only in relation to David in the genealogies. I have always wanted to be someone like Samuel, the faithful prophet and the last judge of Israel. However, perhaps God intend me to be Elkanah, the obscure character whose faithfulness was rewarded in the form of a Nazarite son who would later become a great prophet. I have also strived to be like Paul, who spear-headed the advancement of the Gospel to Europe, suffered, and was martyred for Christ. But I might just be Paul’s grandfather, who is not even mentioned in biblical records. I try so hard to be radical, to be extraordinary for God. But in the end, I might just be a normal, unremarkable name in a long list of genealogy.
This line of thinking challenges me to think more seriously about parenting. I have not seriously considered how to be a good parent because I have been too prideful. I deemed my personal growth and development as more worthy of my time and energy than the development of a child. I was more interested in investing in my own potential for ministry rather than in a crying infant who cannot be reasoned with. However, I am seeing more and more clearly my sins and weaknesses, such as how deeply rooted the fear of man is in my life, my inadequacies with verbal communication, and my deficiencies in critical thinking. These realizations helped tear down the idea that I’m someone with high ministry potential. At the same time, I am growing in my appreciation for the fruit of godly parenting. Of the Christian brothers and sisters I know and respect the most, 90% of them come from a Christian family. I do not presume that a child will turn out “well” even with biblical parenting because parents ultimately do not have the power to change the child’s heart. Only God does. However, I do believe that many times God blesses the faithfulness of the parents in the form of godly children. My disillusionment with myself and the hope I see in the next generation are fueling my growing desire to give the gift of godly parenting to the next generation.
This line of thinking challenges me to rethink my approach on finding a potential spouse. At this point in life, I am over-stressing the importance of compatibility. There is a selfishness inherent in that thinking because the concern is primarily with my enjoyment and not with the well-being of my children. I need to instead primarily look for someone who would be a good partner in building a godly family, raising up the next generation in the instruction of the Lord. This conclusion is not new and I have known it for a long time. I’m not entirely sure why I am just starting to slowly embrace it now. Perhaps it is the coming to terms with the fact that most of working life, and by implication marriage life, is mundane and a slow grind and that the excitement and romance I have been seeking for is chasing after wind. Perhaps it is also the growth in my ability to find joy in living a “mundane” life (e.g. a life where exciting things is not necessarily happening everyday like it did in college). Perhaps it is the slow realization that I am socially immature and awkward in many ways, and that instead of looking for someone who would accommodate to my immaturity and quirks, I should instead seek change in myself to become a person who is more pleasant to be around. Perhaps it is the frightening realization of the insatiable nature of greed that always looks for someone easier, better, more compatible. Whatever the reason is, I know that the path forward is one involving patience, tolerance, and overlooking the faults of the other.
These realizations are perhaps fueled by many feelings of disillusionment I have been experiencing recently. Just two and a half years ago everything seemed possible and that sky was the limit. I had freshly graduated from undergraduate cum laude and was entering in the PhD program with high hopes and ambitions. I was coming out of what seemed like four years of spiritual training from a vibrant and rigorous campus fellowship. I thought I was disciplined and able to exert myself for the sake of ministry. Two and a half years later, I realize that my PhD program is halfway done and I’m far behind where I thought I would be. Spiritual growth has been more difficult than I thought. It feels more like crawling through the trenches than soaring through the clouds. A relationship that ended exposed the depth of my selfishness and cowardice. In ministry I feel like I’m out of ideas and at the end of my abilities, time, energy, patience, and courage to make the impact I wanted to make. I feel helpless to help the people I want to help because I’m under-equipped and I don’t know if I have the discipline and determination to equip myself. Don’t get me wrong – God has done amazing things in my life and I’m thankful for His continued grace, mercy, and patience in my sanctification. It is just that I’m simply realizing that things are difficult, and I’m not as good as I thought I was.
These thoughts on the idea of descendants place me on the proper vantage point to see my place in God’s plan of redemptive history. I am just a small link in a web of chains. My time is passing away faster than I think, and it is probably time for me to start thinking about the next generation. I need to be careful not to place my hope in the next generation rather than in Christ, and I need to be careful not to impose my dreams on my descendants. But there is a hope within me that my children will exceed me one day, that they will be the Apostle Paul that I am probably not going to be. So I pray, in this rare moment of humility, that if it is in God’s sovereign will for me to start a family one day, He would grant me children who will exceed me in godliness and usefulness to the Lord, and that He would grant me the grace to be adequate to raise them. Perhaps doing so would be my greatest singular act of service to the Lord and my greatest gift to the world.