P.O. Box 53055    
Los Angeles, CA 90053   

“WHEN YOU COMING HOME, SON?” “I DON’T KNOW WHEN.”

If this wonderful Dad wants to spend a day a week with you - just visiting, laughing together, remembering, forging a deeper and more lasting friendship - what does it say about the family and friendship if you don’t want to even be there? If you keep looking at your watch?

It came out almost three decades ago, but maybe you remember the stinging social message in the song, Cat’s in the Cradle, by Harry Chapin, from his 1974 album entitled “Verities and Balderdash.” Years later, Dr. James Dobson used the lyrics of this song to just rip into dads who are too selfish to spend quality time with their kids. Do you remember?

“My child arrived just the other day, He came to the world in the usual way. But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay. He learned to walk while I was away. And he was talking ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew, He’d say, ‘I’m gonna be like you, Dad. You know I’m gonna be like you.”

And when the boy turns ten, Dad doesn’t have time to play ball with him. “When you coming home, Dad?” “I don’t know when. But we’ll get together then. You know we’ll have a good time then.”

Of course, at the end, the song does an abrupt U-turn, flips around, and hits the dad between the eyes.

“He came from college just the other day. So much like a man I just had to say, ‘Son, I’m proud of you. Can you sit for a while?’ He shook his head, and he said with a smile, ‘What I’d really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys. See you later. Can I have them please?’”

And despite the fact that this is a dad and this is a son, they don’t have the bond of spending time with each other. They share the last name but not much else.

Why do I bring it up here on this Friday, which, ironically, in my Adventist tradition is often called the “preparation day”? All around the globe right now, millions of people in my faith community are supposed to be getting emotionally and physically and spiritually ready to spend the next 24 hours with Dad. He wants to spend the time with us; we want to spend the time with Him. And yet, sometimes we’d just as soon borrow His car keys and go do something else. And the way we keep looking at the clock, He knows it too.

Yesterday we left off at a wonderful, life-transforming juncture in our study. We’ve actually been talking about Dad and adoption and “Can you sit for a while” these past four weeks here on the radio. And in our Thursday study together, Dr. J. I. Packer, in his book, Knowing God, has just eloquently answered the question of “Why obey?” “Why live a holy life?” If adopted children are already safely in the family, if our good deeds don’t qualify us for the family name or coat of arms, then why do God’s children strive for what he and the Puritans call “gospel holiness”? And right at the close yesterday, we came to this answer:

“While it is certainly true,” Packer writes, “that justification frees one forever from the need to keep the law, or try to, as the means of earning life, it is equally true that adoption lays on one the abiding obligation to keep the law, as the means of pleasing one’s newfound Father.” Then Packer adds: “Law-keeping is the family likeness of God’s children; Jesus fulfilled all righteousness, and God calls us to do likewise.”

I’ve always appreciated God’s kindness in giving us an easy memory trick for one of His most important invitations. You can find it either in John 15:14, or in John 14:15. Isn’t that convenient? Let’s take 14:15 — the wording is virtually identical — and Jesus very plainly says to all the sons and daughters of God:

“If you love Me, you will obey what I command.” In the King James: “If you love Me, keep My commandments.”

That leads me to want to preach to my own little choir right here, meaning my Adventist church family — and then maybe also to a choir of one: a middle-aged preacher with the initials E.L.M. Because all of us who are Christians have the abiding obligation, the adoption obligation, as it turns out, to keep God’s law — but for this purpose only: “As the means of pleasing one’s newfound Father.” Sabbath-keeping, for disciples who choose to embrace this spiritual invitation and discipline, needs to be done within this framework and within this framework alone: “To please the Father we love.” Not to earn salvation. Not to qualify for it. Not to hang onto the gift of Calvary. But simply in gratitude for the wonderful Abba, Father, “Daddy,” we gained at the Cross. If any of the ten commandments cry out to be kept as a love response, this one right here — dealing with TIME, with friendship — would be the one! Very clearly God WANTS to spend this time with us, and how does it appear if we do like the people in Jesus’ Luke 14 parable who all “begged to be excused”?

One of our staff members lives next door to a man named Wayne, who is a wonderful evangelical Christian. And they had a Jacuzzi Bible discussion one evening. (That’s the best kind, by the way — in case any of MY neighbors are listening.) And Wayne asked him: “What’s the deal with this Sabbath business? You really try to keep that? Sundown to sundown, etc.? Why do you do it?”

And his neighbor gave a simple answer. “Well, let me tell you first why I keep the SEVENTH commandment — ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ I’m grateful that God saved me from sin. And now He asks me to be faithful to my wife. For MY sake, first of all . . . it’s a proven blueprint for happy, fulfilled living. But also to bring honor to His kingdom through my faithfulness. Like it says in Matthew 5:16.” Then he remembered to add a wise P.S. “Plus I love my wife!” Well, the neighbor was with him all the way, naturally . . . having a good Christian wife himself. Then his Jacuzzi partner added: “And Wayne, I keep the fourth commandment for the same reason as the seventh. Same exact reason. To show God I’m thankful for Calvary. And because it brings honor to His kingdom. It’s part of God’s blueprint for my happiness as His child.”

Is it possible to obey God in a spirit of legalism? Friend, it’s not only possible, we fall into that trap many times a day, I’m afraid. And perhaps in this arena of Sabbath more than any other. Very likely you’ve encountered someone who observed the day with a “rules-and-regulations” mindset, and it showed on their face. If you live in Moorpark, California, maybe there have been times you saw that on MY face — and I sorrowfully repent of that attitude. Because of all the commands of God we keep in gratitude, of all God’s invitations we accept because we are His adopted sons and daughters, this one of TIME — of 24 sacred hours spent with Him — should be the very LAST place where we lapse into the prison of works. The Sabbath should be the absolute ANTIDOTE to legalism, because when done in the right spirit, it is all ABOUT relationship and security.

I can understand that we pay taxes because we have to. And we obey the speed laws because it can hurt when we don’t. But friend, it’s pretty hard to go on a romantic date where you’re required to be there. Hard to get married when it’s a shotgun situation. Hard to be happy on a honeymoon if you’re just going through the motions and waiting for it to be over. That’s misery, and adoption into God’s family is never supposed to be misery.

I hope you’ll understand as, again, I preach to the little choir in my own backyard for a moment. But to keep a Sabbath within the framework of legalism is the deadliest place in the world to be. What scenario could be worse than that? But the opposite side of the coin is so wonderfully true: to bask in adoption so fully that you gladly give God that blessed seventh day of rest, relaxing in the assurance of salvation . . . friend, this is discipleship in its most joyous form. I don’t do it perfectly, but I can tell you this: I’ve tasted enough of it that I want more, and I want to spend radio time telling you about it too.

J. I. Packer closes his section on holiness with this thought:

“The sins of God’s children do not destroy their justification or nullify their adoption, but they do mar the children’s fellowship with their Father.”

I don’t ever want to do that, friend, and I know you don’t either. How it must hurt our loving Dad when we approach His banquet hall with resentment on our faces, hoping it will be a short evening. Or decry weekly fellowship with Him as being a burdensome requirement that maybe ended with the last page of Malachi. And instead of responding to God’s invitation by promptly showing up at His home for the feast at the appointed hour, we call him on our cellphone instead:

“My new job’s a hassle, and the kid’s got the flu. But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad. It’s been sure nice talking to you. And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon, Little boy blue and the man in the moon. ‘When you coming home, Son?’ ‘I don’t know when. But we’ll get together then, Dad. You know we’ll have a good time then.’”

Friend, let’s not ever do that.