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CHAPTER 1

MULTIGENERATIONAL VISION

"I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments."

EXODUS 20:5–6

WHO GIVES THIS WOMAN?

My hands were shaking as I stood at the altar staring into the eyes of all those people. I tried to relax, but the more I thought about it, the worse it got. My hands were sweating, my mouth was dry, and I had a thousand things running through my head. The music started, the crowd stood to their feet, and then, like something out of a movie script, the bride appeared. I thought I was going to pass out ... and it wasn't even my wedding.

Here I was, a young seminarian about to perform his first "real" wedding ceremony. It was all I could do to get through my lines and remember the bride's and groom's names. Since then I've thought a lot about weddings. To tell the truth, I'm not much of a fan. The whole thing has become so commercialized that the sacred covenant at the center of it all has been all but lost. However, a closer look at the wedding ceremony offers important insight.

For one thing, most people — whether they are Christians or not — want to get married in a church. They also usually want to have the ceremony performed by a minister. Why? I believe this is due to the fact that we all know deep down that God is the author of marriage. We understand that marriage is sacred.

However, what intrigues me most is a simple ritual that goes almost unnoticed in contemporary ceremonies — the consent of the father for the bride to marry. As I stood there that day, I asked the age-old question, "Who gives this woman to be married?" Even in the movies sentimental screenwriters often work the traditional response, "Her mother and I do" into the script. But where does this come from? What does it mean? Do we really believe that a woman needs the consent of her father in order to marry? Do we really believe a young man needs permission from the father of the bride? Or is this question (and the corresponding "may I have your daughter's hand in marriage?" before the official engagement) merely a quaint, anachronistic touch that we can do without if we wish?

I believe it's more than that. I believe these two steps are extremely important. I also believe that their true meaning and significance must be recovered. Young men have traditionally asked a woman's father for her hand in marriage because we have always known that fathers are responsible for protecting their daughters. Unfortunately, this question is often reserved until after the couple has been seeing each other for years and, in many instances, have already begun to enjoy the privileges of marriage. At that point the question is reduced to an insulting, symbolic gesture.

As for the question at the altar, I believe that too has great significance. Fathers do indeed "give [their] daughters in marriage" (Jeremiah 29:6). This is a symbol of protection and care for the daughter being entrusted to her husband. It is also a symbol of trust. The father is saying to his daughter, "I have evaluated and appraised this man, and I trust him with the most precious thing in the world, my little girl."

If this is true (and I believe it is), then fathers must do more than just send their daughters off into the world and "hope they come back with a good one." We must take our responsibility seriously. We must walk with our daughters through this process of finding a suitable husband. We must also actively protect our daughters from men who do not measure up to God's standard. If we don't, the consequences may be dire.

Unfortunately, most of us have little or no experience or coaching in this area. We have been conditioned by our culture to take a backseat and just hope for the best. As a result, our daughters are left to fend for themselves, and the results are sometimes frightening. But what's a father to do? Are we supposed to arrange marriages? Should we lock our daughters in the basement until they're thirty? Besides, how appropriate would it be for me to stick my nose in her business?

These questions and a whole host of others have kept many fathers on the sidelines. But this simply is not good enough. There is too much at stake. For the sake of our children and our children's children, we must reclaim this ground. We must begin to think outside the cultural box in order to protect our sons and daughters from the devastation all around us.

A MULTIGENERATIONAL OBJECT LESSON

Several years ago, my family had the privilege of building our first home. People warned us that the experience would be traumatic, but we went forward nonetheless. Several events surrounding that experience are burned indelibly on the forefront of my mind. One of the most poignant memories is the day I decided to plant some shade trees.

I had talked about planting shade trees in our backyard for weeks. I researched the different types of trees known to thrive in our part of the country. I looked into the type and amount of shade each would provide. I even estimated the amount of time it would take for each type of tree to reach maturity. In short, I did my homework. Finally, the day came and I went out and bought our trees. I bought a magnolia because it is one of my all-time favorites. I also bought a sweetgum, a red maple, and an oak tree. I had the trees delivered and planted them in strategic sections of our yard, paying particular attention to the course of the setting summer sun.

At last, after the last support stake was driven into the ground, my work was done. I stepped back, took in the glorious sight, and hurried off to collect Bridget and the kids. I had them all close their eyes as they walked through the back door. Then, after everyone was in perfect viewing position, I yelled, "Ta da!"

I wish I could say that everyone marveled at the grandeur of our new landscape. However, much to my dismay the children were actually quite disappointed. They looked at the trees, then back at me, then back at the trees, then back at me. Finally, after a few moments of silence, one of them said, "That's it?" "What do you mean?" I replied. "I thought you were planting trees," the let-down child added. "That's what I did," I said with a hint of frustration in my voice. Then it dawned on me. They were expecting full-grown, thick-limbed, ready-to-climb trees! They couldn't understand why I was so excited about these glorified bushes. Fortunately, I recognized that was an incredible teaching moment.

I told the children that planting trees takes patience. We would have to wait for the trees to reach maturity. However, in five or ten years there would be more shade than they could imagine. At this point they looked at each other and shook their heads. "Dad, five or ten years is like forever," my daughter said as she folded her arms in disappointment. Here was another teachable moment. I looked at my children and told them something that I have since said to them no less than a hundred times. "Kids, you must seek to become the kind of people who plant shade trees for others to sit under." I went on to explain how people in the past had sacrificed in order for us to enjoy virtually everything we had. We talked about our Founding Fathers, about brave African slaves, about adventurers, and even about grandparents.

I'm not sure how much of that day's lesson sank in with the children. However, since then I have been trying to teach the same lesson in myriad ways. We constantly talk about living our lives in such a way that we plant spiritual shade trees for the benefit of others. We use phrases like multigenerational vision and legacy. As our children get older and anticipate their future, they are beginning to understand that life is about more than the here and now. They are beginning to catch the vision.

One area where this vision is taking hold is in our family's understanding of marriage, family, and manhood and womanhood. Think about it. If we think multigenerationally, that has to impact the way we view marriage and family. Where do these multiple generations come from if not through marriage and the family?

Thus I can no longer view my role in raising sons and daughters merely as an eighteen-year sentence to be endured. If I have a multigenerational vision for my family, then my role in fathering my children is a lifelong partnership in kingdom expansion. These truths force us to adjust our thinking in regard to what we are teaching our daughters to expect and our sons to become in regard to biblical manhood.

WHY, WHAT HE MUST BE

I am convinced that one of the most crucial questions I face is, whom should my daughter marry? Notice I did not say, will but should. Far too often we think about the marriages of our children like pagan mystics. We close our eyes real hard and just hope against hope that the stars will align and the right man will come along. I think this is a mistake. The issue of whom our daughters will marry is far too important to be approached in this unbiblical fashion.

I believe God has spoken rather decisively in his Word about what our daughters should look for. Moreover, I believe there are some non-negotiables that our daughters must be looking for. There are some things a man simply must be before he is qualified to assume the role of a Christian husband. For instance, he must be a Christian (2 Corinthians 6:14); he must be committed to biblical headship (Ephesians 5:23ff.); he must welcome children (Psalm 127:3–5); he must be a suitable priest (Joshua 24:15), prophet (Ephesians 6:4), protector (Nehemiah 4:13–14), and provider (1 Timothy 5:8; Titus 2:5). A man who does not possess — or at least show strong signs of — these and other basic characteristics does not meet the basic job description laid down for husbands in the Bible.

Moreover, as a father, it is my responsibility to teach my daughter what these requirements are, encourage her not to settle for less, and walk with her through the process of evaluating potential suitors. Of course, these ideas may come as a shock to many in contemporary Christian circles (not to mention society at large). However, I have found that there is a growing discontentment among young women today. They are tired of being thrown to the wolves. They are also tired of feeling like they have to settle for less than God's best. My question is, why should they?

I am not talking about setting an unreasonable standard. In fact, if you think the aforementioned list is unreasonable, I recommend you look at it again. We're not talking about requiring a man to be six feet tall or have a six-figure income, a college degree, or a two-car garage. We're talking basic, biblical requirements. And if we desire to see God's favor in generations to come, we had better be committed to upholding his standards when it comes to "giving [our] daughters in marriage" (Jeremiah 29:6).

I have often been asked when I started to think multigenerationally in regard to my family. The truth is, I have always thought in terms of multigenerational legacy. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way. I watched the negative multigenerational legacy of my family from my childhood. All around me families were falling apart. My parents, my grandparents, and eventually my cousins all bore evidence of the reality of multigenerational legacy. Of course, I didn't recognize this right away. In fact, it would be many years before I would grasp the magnitude of my multigenerational family legacy.

THE INEVITABILITY OF MULTIGENERATIONAL LEGACY

It was Thursday, April 27, 2006, and my life was about to change. I walked into the house after running a few errands, and I could tell something was wrong. The house was eerily quiet. The kind of quiet we're not used to with all the kids we have running around. I made my way through the living room into our bedroom where Bridget was ending a phone call rather abruptly. She tried to smile at me, but she couldn't. The corners of her mouth quivered as she fought to keep them from turning downward. "Sit down, baby," she said as she stroked my arm. She didn't have to say another word, but she did. "Your dad is dead." Those words reverberated in my ears. I can almost hear them today. I had waited for this day. Truth be told, I had at times hoped for this day. However, I wasn't ready for it. I wasn't ready to be fatherless ... again.

Another Fatherless Child

As a boy I had grown accustomed to fatherlessness. My mother and father were high-school sweethearts who found themselves dealing with an unplanned pregnancy in the climate of the late 1960s. In those days there was no Roe v. Wade screaming at young men and women from every corridor of society that abortion is the answer. In those days Planned Parenthood — which now has more than 70 percent of its offices in minority neighborhoods in keeping with the eugenics of their founder, Margaret Sanger — wasn't as ubiquitous as it is today. In those days the culture of death refrained from screaming at young black women and men, "Better to kill the baby than to allow him to be born black and poor." In those days a young man knew he was expected to "do the right thing" and get married. So that's exactly what my parents did.

Unfortunately, my parents' marriage did not last long. I have seen pictures of the three of us together, but I have no memories of that brief stint. All I ever knew was fatherlessness. I was blessed to have occasional contact with my dad. I spent time with him on numerous occasions. However, I, like most of the kids I knew growing up, did not have the privilege of his presence in our home.

Moreover, my relatives with whom I had contact were in the same boat. Both my parents were married twice. My paternal grandparents lived next door to each other, had three children, and were not married. Bridget didn't fare any better. Her parents divorced twice, and at the time of this writing her father is on his sixth marriage. Out of our four parents, one is currently married (for the sixth time), all four have been divorced, and three have had children out of wedlock.

Things don't get any better with our siblings. We have seven siblings between us. Because of the ravages of sin, immorality, and divorce, nearly half of our siblings are half siblings. Nevertheless, the legacy has continued. Four of our seven siblings are currently married. Five of seven (all who have married) have been divorced. Four of the seven have had children out of wedlock.

The legacy also extends to my first cousins. Few of my first cousins — on both my mother's side of the family and on my father's side — had fathers in the home. The lone exceptions were the five children of one of my mother's six siblings whom I barely knew. Thus, only five of my twenty-three first cousins grew up with a father in the home. That's just shy of 22 percent. Ironically, their father died before they were all grown.

As to the marks of the family legacy, they are definitely present among my first cousins. Only eight of the twenty-three (35 percent) ever married. Five of the eight (63 percent) who married have been divorced. However, that number is a bit deceiving since one is deceased, one was widowed, and another is currently separated. Thus, only one of my twenty-three first cousins is currently married and living with her spouse. That represents less than one half of 1 percent!

Unfortunately, the trend is being passed on to yet another generation, as is evident in the parenting practices of the current generation. At least fourteen of my twenty-three first cousins (61 percent) have parented children out of wedlock. More specifically, twenty-eight of the thirty-eight children born to my first cousins (73 percent) were born out of wedlock.

Though this may sound shocking to some, I never gave it a second thought. In fact, as I think back over my childhood, I can hardly remember one close friend who had a father in his home. I remember Terence and Howard who lived across the street. Their father did not live with them. Martin, who lived on my block, lived with his mother as well. Try as I might, I cannot think of one kid with whom I played in the neighborhood who had a mother and a father in the home.

In some ways this eased my burden. Had I grown up in a neighborhood full of boys whose dad lived with them and had family members with intact families, I would probably have felt the weight of my father's absence (and my family legacy) more acutely than I did. Nevertheless, I knew something was missing. I remember watching television shows like I Love Lucy and wishing I had parents who fought like Ricky and Lucy did. At least little Ricky had immediate access to both of them.

As I grew up, the yearning subsided. This was due in part to other father figures such as coaches and teachers who began to stand in the gap. However, it was largely due to my father's constant struggle to overcome a drug habit. His life was filled with the highs and lows of drug use, rehab, sobriety, and relapse. I rode the roller coaster with him for a while, but when I started a family of my own, that became an untenable proposition. I would hear from my father when he was on the mountaintop; then he would disappear for months, and we knew he had "fallen off the wagon" again.

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Excerpted from "What He Must Be"
by .
Copyright © 2009 Voddie Baucham Jr..
Excerpted by permission of Good News Publishers.
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