On being Obi-wan

My oldest son Jason, now a lieutenant with the police department, was a sergeant at the time. As the department chaplain, I often attended roll call and then rode in the police cruiser with an officer. That night, I was there to ride with Jason.

Sitting on the back row, I decided to “mess with him” as we say in the South (the “South,” by the way, is capitalized by those who were raised in the region, a holdover from when the area was a nation). When I was assured that no one was looking at either him or me, I took the powerful mini-mag flashlight and pointed it at his eyes. He squinted, looked at me, scowled, and shook his head in the negative. Knowing the act irked him, I, of course, did it again. And again. And again.

Finally roll call was over and the officers left to assume their duties. Except Jason. He wanted to have a word with me. As his father, I was totally prepared to ignore his protests and point out to him that, after all I had put up with during his younger days, I didn’t want any flak now.

He sat down, however, and said, “Dad, you’ve been around law enforcement a lot longer than I have and I need to ask you a management question.” Oh, well, of course I want to share with my son any wisdom that he might require so I said, “Sure, what’s the question?”

He looked me squarely in the eye, this lad that I had changed and fed in the wee hours of the morning, and asked, “Dad, would you disrespect any other sergeant in this department in front of his officers they way you disrespected me tonight? Or am I the only sergeant that you disrespect?”

I was stunned. After a brief silence, I replied, “It will never happen again.”

“OK, he said, as he rose and adjusted his equipment belt. “Let’s go ride.”

As my grown-up son, this leader of men, led the way, I followed with my head hanging and my tail tucked between my legs, thinking, “When did he become Obi-wan Kenobi and when did I become Luke Skywalker.”

It’s always a great surprise to adults, especially to dads when their sons begin taking on the alpha male role. They try to do it when they turn 16 or 17, but we are still able to maintain the status as the “chief bull in the herd,” as my wife calls it.

Somewhere along the way, however, they become experienced, wise, and responsible. It doesn’t happen to every male at the same age but, eventually, most move from being children and youth to “men.”

That, coupled with the fathers still trying to treat them like children, can result in embarrassing flashlight moments.

Still, it is a good moment — a passing of the torch — when one realizes that their sons have become men. The not so good moment is to realize that the sons now feel fully qualified to rebuke and correct you — even though they do it respectfully.

The other two sons have also joined in looking out for Dad. One tells me I need to get a house without stairs because I’m “not getting any younger,” another that I need to take more days off, and “enjoy life.” One has let me know that Mom and I can move in “when the time comes.”

It’s nice to know they are grown and are becoming all they were created to be. But once in awhile, I really miss being Obi-wan.

[David Epps is the founding pastor of Christ the King Church, 4881 Hwy. 34 E., Sharpsburg, GA 30277, between Peachtree City and Newnan. Services are held Sundays at 8:30 and 10 a.m. He also serves as the bishop to the Mid-South Diocese (ICCEC) and is the mission pastor of Christ the King Church in Champaign, IL. He may be contacted at frepps@ctkcec.org. A website is available at www.midsouthdiocese.org.]