Are you familiar with the phrase “good ol’ boy?”

It can be used in a sentence like this: “Ah, that guy...

...he'll hog all the coffee at the men's breakfasts...but he’s a good ol’ boy.”

Good ol' boys do us favors.  When we're rushing into AM/PM they open the door for us, sometimes getting a quick "thanks" in return.  And if we're standing in line at Starbucks frustrated by something rattling around in our heads, a good ol' boy might even jerk his chin and say, "Hey, man, how's it going?"

Hundreds of years ago, long before the birth of Christ, King David – one of the greatest kings in Israel's history – was sitting between his inner and outer gate, looking off in the distance.  His buddy was standing on the roof of the gateway, looking intently in the same direction - one hand shading his eyes from the sun, anxious in the silence.

They were waiting for news.

Have you ever been so anxious that you literally sat at your front gate?  Maybe you kept eyeballing the front door, listening for the mail carrier.  Or maybe you lived through an entire day (or week) with your laptop glued to your lap.  Waiting on that email, that message carrying the important news.

           That’s how King David felt.  David was waiting for word of Absalom, his son, a guy who’d basically betrayed his own father by threatening an uprising in his father’s kingdom.  To deal with the situation, David gave Absalom the silent treatment.  Now Absalom’s life was in danger.  Yeah, David had reason to worry.

Well, let me end the suspense:  Absalom was executed for treason while hanging by his hair from an oak tree, and that was the news coming to David.  But David didn’t know it.  How could he?  He hadn’t even been speaking with his son on a regular basis.

Finally, the watchman sees a runner approaching in the distance, and he calls out, “Hey, that guy runs like Ahimaaz son of Zadok.” Upon hearing this, David says, “He’s a good man.  He comes with good news.”

You know what David was saying?  “He’s a good ol’ boy; he’ll tell me something good.  He’ll tell me what I want to hear.”

As much as I love good ol’ boys, a good ol’ boy cannot change the message.  The message is what it is.  When David received the news that his son was dead, he climbed the gateway to a room away from everyone – isolating himself just as he had isolated himself from Absalom – and he cried and cried, “O my son Absalom!  My son, my son...If only I had died instead of you...”

King David makes me sad.  You know, he was a man’s man:  a warrior, a rock star poet, and a king.  He was handsome, athletic and powerful.  And I think it’s tempting for guys like that to imagine that their gifts and success compensate for any personal shortcomings they may have as, say, fathers or husbands.  Life as a King is a busy life.  Life as a cultural icon is even busier.

But the bottom line is that as men empowered by Christ, the son of the Living God, we cannot good ol’ boy our way around relationships that matter most, no matter how important we think we are, as David may have done with his son, Absalom.  We cannot good ol’ boy our church family, our wives or our children.  The one-liners work when we’re out of town at conference and we need to give a new contact a good impression, but not when we’re at home and the people who love us need our full attention.

Now, remember Absalom.  He was, in the language of our day, hot.  He was a great warrior, handsome, athletic, powerful, the people loved him... 

Ringing any bells? 

Yeah, he was a lot like his father.  Fathers, we have things in common with our children.  But we cannot rely on those things to carry the relationship.  Lines like, “Oh, she’s her daddy’s girl” or “he’s his father’s son” are good ol’ boy lines:  they don’t build relationships with our children.

In his second letter to Corinth, Paul said, “We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians, and opened wide our hearts to you.  We are not withholding our affection from you, but you are withholding yours from us.  As a fair exchange – I speak as to my children – open wide your hearts also” (2 Corinthians 6:11-13, our emphasis).

In other words, Paul is saying, “Corinthians, you’re getting all we’ve got – our hearts are open wide – so stop good ol’ boyin’ us!  It won’t cut it!”  Then – did you catch this? – he speaks as if he was speaking to his children.  That’s no insult; it’s a statement of love! 

How is your relationship with your son?  Your daughter?  Are you asking questions?  Are you creating space for significant communication?  Or are you just relying on the patterns of life to carry the relationship?

Moses gives some awesome advice in Deuteronomy 6.  He says, “In the future, when your son asks you, ‘What is the meaning of the stipulations, decrees and laws the Lord our God has commanded you?’ tell him: ‘We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, but the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.’”

Moses is saying that when our children ask us the major questions – questions of love, faith, redemption – the worst thing we can do is drill them with a religious lecture or good ol’ boy our way out of the conversation.  The best thing we can do is tell them the story of how we met Jesus!

Do you remember that experience?

My son, my daughter, you want to know what Jesus did for me?  Let me tell you the story.  These moments will never be convenient.  We have to be intentional, as Christ is intentional with us. 

David, knowing his son was in trouble, waited for news of his death – waited behind his own gates!  I don’t understand that.  Maybe he was worried for his own life, maybe he trusted others to get the news.  I’m not sure.  By remaining behind his own gates, David allowed the world around him to dictate the pace in his relationship with his son.  He allowed his role as King – his professional responsibilities – to get in the way of his relationship with his son. 

So, what do you think?  Isn’t it about time we step out from the comfortable and risk the stuff of this world that we work so hard for but won’t last past this life, for the people around us that mean so much to us?

©2009 by Paul Huddle & John Huddle.