Fishing Rods Instead of Hammers

Becoming a better father is more like becoming a better fisherman than building a house. Many men I have spoken to believe that raising a son into goodness, strength, and respectability is like building a house – first the foundation, next the structure, and last, the details. The problem these men have faced, though, is that the house they are building has a will of its own and may not want to be built one way over another. All sons have a sense of internal manifestation and know more and more each year that their life is their own. What usually results from the “builder” model is frustration on both parts and fathers becoming estranged from their sons. The problem isn’t that they aren’t doing a good job of building, and therefore need to become better builders. The problem is their approach is destined to fail.

If a builder tries to work with a structure that has a will of its own and ignores the power of that will, the builder will fail to complete the building. Every time. Sooner or later the building will begin to work against the builder. Usually the son will rebel just to assert and exercise his ability to choose. This causes the house to not be finished by the father’s plan, but leaves it up to the son to finish the work. And, yes, many fathers look at the partial completion as significant progress, a foundation and structure to be proud of, and better than nothing. But, is it really the success he was hoping to have?

Raising a son to quality manhood is a collaborative process. Always has been. Always will be. However, it is easy for the collaborative process to get lost at the very beginning when the infant son isn’t able to express his end of the exchange. This is when a father’s preparation is most important. He must see from the start how things are going to work best, and pursue that path with commitment, certainty, and consistency. What path am I speaking of? The path within, the path of self-improvement, the path of responsible servant leadership.

The path to becoming a better father is like becoming a better fisherman. I say this because the fisherman who goes to the end of the dock and casts a bare hook in the water probably won’t be very good at what he seems intent on doing. If his intent is to sit and do nothing, then he may have it down to a science. But, if his intention is to catch fish he needs to learn more to improve his chances for success.

Fishing, like raising sons, is a collaborative endeavor. The fisherman does whatever he does, and the fish chooses to bite on the hook or not. Good fishermen learn about what works better. They learn the skills that improve their success. Certain lures in different seasons for different fish, more likely pools or inlets at different times of day, different gear for different locales – they all matter to the fisherman’s success, and the better fisherman learns as much as he can. The difference between the guy on the end of the dock with a bare hook and the champion of the Bassmaster Series is learning.

The Bassmaster champion cared enough to learn and became better and better. The guy on the dock may get discouraged and go home, or he may glance at the others who are catching fish and watch what they do. He may get up and walk over to them and ask. If he is open to new ideas, willing to try, fail, try, and eventually succeed – then he is pursuing being a better fisherman.

Learning takes time, but the path of learning is one we are either on or off. If, as fathers of sons, we get discouraged and quit, we soon find that our dissatisfaction with quitting drives us back to try again, returning us to the path of learning. This willingness to pick ourselves up and try again is part of the love a father has for his son. I know many men who have reached their limit and want to quit out of frustration, only to regroup, rethink, and try again. I cannot say with certainty for all fathers, but in my heart, the desire to always try again seems to come from God. It is consistent with how I know Him to be, and I believe we are, like the Bible says, made in His image, similar in many ways.

In fishing, the fisherman needs the fish to cooperate and latch onto the hook. In raising sons the father needs his son to respond with willingness, trust, acceptance, and effort. A good father gets his son to offer these attributes in a natural and even joyous form of validation. A father with lesser skill tries to force the son to cooperate, using coercion, meanness, punishment, and bullying to gain compliance. If the fisherman learns his craft well, he can cast a line into the water and land the biggest ones right away. He doesn’t have to drain the lake and rake them into a pile. Bullying is the forceful path of unskilled minds – the unwilling learners.

Becoming a better father is about developing the skills within that create excellent results. The person for the father to work on is not the son, but the father. When a father works on his communication skills, his anger control, his willingness to listen and be interested, then he is becoming a better father. Trying to build a son like building a house is more an act of ego and pride that says what the father wants is more important. That’s not being a father. That’s being a bully.

In my decades of relationship with my father and with God, I have seen my father try again and again to build me into his vision of a better son while God wanted to work alongside me. My father’s love for me drove him hundreds of times to try to build me, then quit out of frustration, then stop quitting and return to the frustration of trying. The problem was not his love but his misguided application of it. His intent was not about me becoming me. His intent was about me becoming his vision of what I should be, and he never realized that I was a person with God-given free will.

God, on the other hand, walked alongside me through my life, offering His presence, grace, loyalty, and encouragement most of all. When I sought His guidance He gave me wise counsel, but allowed me to choose my path ahead. When I stumbled and fell He offered me a hand up. And, when I fell into fear or anger and turned away from Him, dishonoring His love for me, He forgave me and embraced me.

To become better fathers we need to learn all we can, both, for our sons’ sakes, and to fulfill the love inside our hearts that drives us to give them our best. Fathers who do well end up sharing a lifetime of deep connection, love, acceptance, and joy with their sons. That, to me, seems a worthy pursuit and a good enough reason to learn, change, and become more.