It is difficult to overstate the impact that parents have on their children. Somewhere along the way, I realised that my parents did not simply teach values but quietly lived them until they became impossible to ignore.
Growing up, it was understood that the television was not the centre of our lives. It wasn’t given any particular importance. And before I could even understand, my father had made a quiet but firm decision that he would not watch television for entertainment. News, perhaps. But anything else? He believed it was a waste of his time. And he lived by that conviction so consistently that it shaped the rhythm of our entire home.
This was never more evident than when we travelled to India every summer during our holidays. When we had to get from one city to another, our preferred mode of transport was buses. Those trips were long, often overnight – the air buzzing with the excitement of being somewhere new. And almost without fail, the conductor would turn on a movie.
It would blast from a screen at the front – loud and bright – impossible to ignore. Everyone watched. Honestly though – what else could one do?
My father wouldn’t.
While the rest of us were drawn in, with our faces scrunched in concentration and the light dancing off our faces from the screen, my father would simply turn away. He looked out the window for as long as there was something to see. Trees, passing lights, fields – they all held his attention until the sun set. When darkness swallowed the world outside, he would turn – not to the movie – but to us.
My father found great amusement in observing our serious faces and chuckled constantly at how absorbed we were. I can’t tell you how weird it was – he would be unfazed by the loud volume and the glaring light – never once giving it the privilege of his attention. It was as though the real entertainment wasn’t what was on the screen but was sitting right next to him. I wish we had shared his enthusiasm though. I remember being annoyed that he wouldn’t just let us watch the movie in peace and that he would look away.
But somehow, without ever uttering a word, my father made a statement that was louder than the movie that was being played.
In a world where we are constantly bombarded with pithy self-motivational quotes like, “You can suffer from discipline or suffer from regret”, I realise my father had made a choice long ago.
That quiet consistency confronts me even today. My father’s discipline and my mother’s prayer life flank me on either side as I walk through life. The truth is – the real issue isn’t television – it’s about discipline. It is choosing what is right over what is easy. It is about doing what you ought to do over what you want. The book of Hebrews tells us that no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it (Hebrews 12:11). My father wasn’t avoiding something evil – he was sticking to his principles. More specifically, he was unwilling to fill his life with what he believed had no value.
Do you have something in your life that the Lord is pressing upon your heart to let go of? Are you perhaps convicted about something being worthless and yet struggling to let go? I ask you, dear friend – what is filling your life?
Because outward faithfulness is easy to maintain. You can attend church, be as involved as possible, and still drift inwardly. Without a steady intake of God’s word, that drift is almost guaranteed.
Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. (Joshua 1:8)
What fills our minds shapes our behaviour. It might not be dramatic – real growth never is. But gradually, it will change you to the very core of your being. It is like the story of an older man who told a youth that inside every person, two wolves are fighting: one filled with anger and envy, the other with hope and love. When the youth asked which wolf wins, the elder replied, “The one you feed.”
When the Lord convicts us of what is wrong and we refuse to change our ways, it leads to a dull heart. Once you have been convicted, it becomes your responsibility to change them. If you do not have the strength, you can always ask the Lord for it. Rest assured, this is the kind of prayer the Lord loves to answer. However, when we tolerate something long enough, it begins to take over. What you tolerate, will one day dominate. Let Proverbs 4:23 serve as a warning to us – “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
My father has taught me that it is important to guard the conviction that has been placed in you. Nothing good can come from being flippant about it. Over time, I’ve realised that life becomes much simpler when it is reduced to one question: Is it right? I’ve realised that most of my battles are fought and lost on the hill of emotions. It’s so much easier to go along with what we feel like rather than what is right – but that is the path the Lord wants us to take.
It is the path of humility.
It is the path of telling the Lord, “Not my will, but your will be done.” It looks like reading your Bible when you don’t feel like it. It’s responding in kindness to your child when he is tap-dancing on your last functioning nerve. It is choosing to serve when you’d rather stay in bed. It is choosing to prioritise your health when you’d rather loaf on the couch. These things don’t come naturally to us. We have to make a conscious effort consistently until it becomes easier. Because what you repeatedly take in is what you eventually live out.
Christian character is built on this – doing what is right regardless of what you feel.
Take heart, dear friend. Apostle extraordinaire, Paul describes the struggle as well: I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. (Romans 7: 15, 18-19)
How comforting to know that champions of faith have struggled similarly just like us! And what a privilege that the answer isn’t to just try harder and exercise “firmer” discipline. It is trusting in God – who gives us both – the desire and the strength to obey. Paul gives us the answer in the next verse – What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Dear friend, please don’t lose hope. The Lord is faithful to those who call on Him. He knows the areas you are struggling in, for however long you’ve been battling it, and He will come swiftly to your rescue. You will yet praise Him – you will proclaim His faithfulness to every struggling soul you meet. No matter how legless your situation looks or how often you’ve given up, it isn’t over unless God says it is. You are an overcomer in Christ – he will carry you to the very end – a rather victorious end.
For me, personally, this has been a season of change and the Lord has been convicting me rather strongly about certain habits and patterns that have sadly become the norm in my life. I am learning along with you to depend on Him more heavily with each passing day. He is seldom impressed by my attempts to appear strong. Instead, He calls me to be humble before Him, so that He can provide the strength I truly need to live victoriously. We do not have to strive or pretend to be strong on our own – He gives more grace to the humble.
As I have reflected on that truth, I have often thought about my father. The years have long passed since our overnight bus travels. Life has changed. Technology has changed. Screens have now become smaller and more personal. What was once easily avoidable has since become a constant. And yet, my father still hasn’t changed. Even now, when I turn the television on for my own children – something harmless and appropriate – he does the same thing. He turns away – not out of fear or judgement- but because he has long decided that he will not offer his time to what is unnecessary.
And to be quite honest with you – there is a part in it that I didn’t expect:
It unsettles me.
Not because I disagree but because I understand. His quiet consistency confronts my own compromises. His discipline shines a light on my distractions. His conviction gently pushes me to consider what I am doing with my time. And consequently, I am challenged to have a more serious attitude in my walk with the Lord.
I am grateful for the example my father has given. And by the grace of God, I hope that one day my own children will see in me even a small measure of that same quiet conviction – a life marked not by perfection, but by a sincere desire to love the Lord more than the things of this world.