One dollar and twenty-five cents in quarters is all that I have. I take a deep, quivering breath, pick up the handset and feed the coins into the payphone at the corner of the gas station that would later become Strange Brew coffee house.

I push dial the number to call home to Jackson, Mississippi. The first ring lasts for an eternity. Mom answers. We exchange pleasantries and I nervously ask, “May I to speak to Dad?”

I’m starving. My head hurts, I’m so hungry. Then I hear the rustle of the phone exchanging hands.

“Hey Dad. I’m out of food. Can you send me some money for groceries?” The question hangs in the air a bit before my father calmly replies, “Welcome to the real world, son.” Click.

When I was younger, I shared that story to make my father out to be a villain. The hearer would often respond, “How awful. That’s cruel.” But, what they didn’t know was, at that time, I was living lasciviously, wastefully and in rebellion. Nobody could tell me anything. I did as I pleased and my situation was the consequence.

What is clear now that I didn’t see then, was that my dad’s objective for me was to choose a good and productive path. And before I could do that, I had to see for myself what a worthless and destructive path I was on. I had to come to a place where I recognized that my lifestyle, which seemed good (fun and pleasurable) at the time, was not good. I had to see that my choices were producing outcomes I really did not want. In the words of scripture, “I had to come to the end of myself,” (Luke 15:16-17). I had to realize there was a better way. I’ve been seeking it ever since.

There was no greater kindness than for my father to allow me to be confronted with my error rather than help me continue in something that would hurt me. Love “does no harm” and does not always look like hugs and kisses.

Originally posted by Paul Luckett to Facebook here.

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