“I can’t figure out these student names. No one takes the name of their father as their last name,” my administrative assistant exclaimed. “How are we going to keep things organized?” 

Given the important role of the father in the Muslim Central Asian culture where our school operated, we found this practice curious. 

My own father greatly influenced my life and journey to faith. I actually feared him. 

My dad was a strong personality, proactive and quick with his tongue. AND he meant what he said. His rules and boundaries for the four of us growing up were not very flexible. If you crossed the line, he was there to meet you. In detail he would explain your mistake and the consequences, already laid out prior to any misstep.   

I am very happy to have grown up with this fear, this awe and sometimes terror of my dad. It protected me from some typical crazy child-adolescent mistakes and saved me many times from my unrealistic, overcommitted high school self.

Our family participated in congregational life more than the minimal Sunday attendance. I was not confused about the requirements in bowing to God’s sovereignty and Lordship. From a young age I believed the full Gospel message. I never wanted to be far from God, just as I wanted to be close to my dad. 

As a college student, I surrendered my will to follow Jesus. I believed I would experience the same security I enjoyed under my dad’s leadership. I would be free to grow, to risk, to dream, to be ambitious and goal-oriented within the safe framework of the story written by my loving Heavenly Father. 

Through the past decades when I needed correction, God guided me through His Word and the wise counsel of the Holy Spirit. As headstrong as God made me, I debated and questioned through prayer and Bible study similarly to the late-night talks I engaged in with my earthly father.  

My experience with my own father and with God demonstrates that fear and love work wonderfully together to help a child feel full membership in the family. I am eternally grateful.