Lessons my dad taught me
My dad didn’t follow Jesus, yet there were deep gospel-shaped truths I learned simply through being his son. As I grieve his death and wrestle with not knowing how he responded to Jesus in his lifetime, I’ve found myself looking back with real gratitude — for who he was as my dad and for the things he taught me.
Firstly, I learnt grace — I experienced undeserved kindness
When I was about 13, I was testing my piano teacher’s son’s new bike. It was a top‑of‑the‑range racer. As I was riding it, I was looking down at the gears and playing around with them, and I cycled straight into the back of a parked learner driver’s car, falling off and damaging the bike. Or the time when I was 17, I’d just passed my driving test and was parking the car in the garage one day. They say a 17‑year‑old male’s mind is not fully developed — mine clearly wasn’t. I had the thought, I wonder how close I can park to the garage wall without touching it. The wall won that experiment. I scraped the car against some metal objects attached to the wall. I then made it worse by scraping it again as I tried to reverse away.
Both times, I remember a feeling of dread as I had to tell my dad what I’d done. I didn’t know how he’d respond. Both times, after I explained what happened, his first question was, “John, are you OK?” Rather than shouting at me for the foolish things I’d done, (which he would have been entitled to do) the first thing I experienced was love and concern. I knew I was loved by him, and that I was more important to him than the expensive mistakes I’d just made. Grace can be taught, but experiencing it in such a tangible way was profound and foundational in my life.
Secondly, I learnt a deep love for nature and walking.
My dad had such a childlike delight in nature. On our walks — usually with his 3D camera gear hanging in a box around his neck — he would stop again and again to point out things I would have completely missed: the delicate beauty of a flower, the shimmer of a butterfly’s wings, the quick movement of a bird in the trees. There was a simple, deep joy in him whenever he was out in creation.
He never tired of it. He was never more himself than when walking the hills. Each summer, when Katie and I were children, our family holidays were walking holidays in the UK. At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate them — especially when friends were flying off to beaches in Spain or Greece for weeks. But looking back now, I wouldn’t trade those summers for anything. I remember them with so much fondness. My dad led walking holidays until he was 81 and never tired of enjoying creation. Dad passed on that love of God’s creation and enjoying it in the simple pleasure of countryside walks.
Thirdly, I learnt that love is caring but not controlling.
My dad was open about his opinions and always ready with advice, but he didn’t overstep. He trusted me to make my own decisions and supported me as I made them. I remember when Sophie and I told my parents we were moving to Turkey. My dad was really sad. I knew he’d personally wanted us to stay in the UK as he told us so. However, he explicitly said to me, “If that is what you want to do and feel is right to do, we will fully support you, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” My dad showed a beauty in demonstrating caring love with freedom. I hope I show that kind of love and freedom to my children as they grow.
My dad wasn’t the perfect Father, but he taught me these lessons and others beside which have shaped me and reflect deep gospel truth. I am so grateful for him.
