My Father's Eyes

We have been thinking a lot about genetics around here lately. Which sounds more scientific than it usually is on our little farm.

For us, it looks more like standing in a barn staring at sheep, and saying things like:

“She has good feet.”

“That one has better parasite resistance.”

“She’s a good mama.”

“We need more like her."

Sometimes, it's getting real with our purpose and looking at an animal realizing that not every trait is one we want to keep passing down. That is part of raising livestock. You breed for what is strong. You pay attention to what shows up again and again. Hoof sturdiness matters. Parasite resistance matters. Good mothering matters. Temperament matters. Over time, the flock should begin to show the traits you have protected, encouraged, and intentionally chosen. 

But not everything in a flock is only passed through blood. Some things are learned by being near. A young ewe can learn what good mothering looks like by being raised in a herd where other mothers are calm, steady, and attentive. Sheep learn the rhythm of the group. They learn where to go, when to move, what to fear, and what feels safe.

They are born with certain traits, yes. But they are also shaped by proximity.

That is not different in humans....  

I have always loved being called “Jim Junior.” Having just celebrated Father’s Day, I’ve been thinking about how blessed I am to have a father who, in so many ways, has helped me understand the heart of my Heavenly Father. His steadiness, his encouragement, his willingness to show up, his joy in the people he loves — those things have shaped how I see life, protection, love, and faithfulness. 

I also get to witness my children with their father in three different stages of life — one grown, one in the teenage years, and one still young enough that childhood is holding on a little longer. And in each stage, I see pieces of their dad showing up in them.

Some of it may be genetics. But so much of it is proximity. It is time spent together. It is conversations in the truck. It is work done side by side. It is hunting, fixing, laughing, correcting, teaching, fishing, and showing up again and again.

I see the bond forming over time. I see the legacy he is building in them — not just through what they inherited from him, but through what they are learning by being near him. It makes me grateful.

Grateful for my father.

Grateful for their father.

Grateful for the way earthly fathers, when they love well, can give us a glimpse of the Father above.

Grateful when people say, “You are just like your father.” Because honestly, I hope I am. 

I hope I carry pieces of both my parents in ways people can recognize. The way certain features show up from one generation to the next, like eye color, skin tone, facial expressions, and health tendencies. But also in other things not so easily seen: confidence, a sense of humor, a worry-free demeanor, the way you handle people, the way you welcome others, the way you work through hard things, the way you show up.

Those may not be printed directly into our DNA, but they are still inherited in a way. We pick them up by being close, watching, and listening. We pick them up living in the same house and sitting at the same table, hearing the same phrases repeated so many times that they eventually become part of us. 

Sometimes we become like the people who raised us because we share their blood; sometimes we become like them because we share their space.

I think about this with my stepson. There have been moments when people have compared him to me physically, which always makes me chuckle a little because that math does not math. But love and proximity have a funny way of making people look like they belong to each other.

Families start to share expressions. They share rhythms. They share inside jokes and reactions and ways of standing in a kitchen... Or a barn. 

Sometimes it is simply what happens when lives are knit together long enough for people to start seeing the connection.

Years ago, Amy Grant had a song called “My Father’s Eyes,” and that phrase has been rolling around in my mind as I considered father's day and genetics and my children.... 

I like being told I have my earthly father’s traits. I like being told I remind people of my mother. But even more than that, I want to reflect my Heavenly Father. 

I want to have His eyes to see the way He sees. I want to hear the way He hears. I want to speak with His gentleness and truth. I want to love what He loves. I want to become so familiar with His presence that His ways begin to shape mine.

Scripture tells us from the very beginning:

"So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them…”

— Genesis 1:27

We are made in His image. That is our starting place. Before we accomplish anything, before we prove anything, before anyone else names our worth, God has already marked humanity with His image. But being made in His image does not mean we automatically reflect Him well in every area of our lives. Any parent knows this. A child can look just like you and still act nothing like you. And if we are honest, we can belong to God and still speak in ways that do not sound like Him. We can carry His name and still respond in ways that do not reflect His heart. 

That is where closeness matters.

Jesus said:

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.”

— John 15:5

Remain. Stay close. Abide.

That is not just a one-time connection. It is daily nearness. It is proximity to the Father. The more time we spend with Him, the more His traits begin to show up in us. 

His patience starts correcting our impatience.

His compassion softens our judgment.

His peace quiets our striving.

His truth steadies our emotions.

His love teaches us how to love others well.

Paul says:

"Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children…”

— Ephesians 5:1

That feels like such a simple picture.

Dearly loved children copying their Father. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But over time. A little more mercy here. A little more patience there. A slower answer. A kinder response. A willingness to forgive. A heart that notices the one standing on the outside. A desire to gather instead of scatter. 

And maybe one day, someone looks at us and says, “You remind me of your Father.” Not because we have performed our way into holiness. But because we have stayed close enough to be shaped by Him and have been obedient to the command in Leviticus, "Be holy, because I am holy!"

Like sheep in a flock. Like children at a table. Like sons and daughters who know where they belong. Some traits are passed down through blood. Some traits are learned through nearness.

In Christ, both are true. We are His by creation. We are His by redemption. We are made in His image, and we are invited to grow in His likeness.

So yes, I am grateful for my dad’s eyes and my mother's love. I'm grateful for a mind shaped by my father's teachings and my mother's compassion... I am grateful for the family traits that make people smile and say, “You come by that honestly.” 

But more than anything, I hope my life keeps showing evidence of time spent with the Father... My Father... The Heavenly Father. Because the closer I walk with Him, the more I want to reflect Him and the less of me I want people to see. For it is no longer I that lives, but Christ that lives in me.  

What traits of the Father do you most want to reflect — and how might spending more time near Him begin to shape those traits in you?

Lord, thank You for giving me earthly parents worthy of praise and allowing me to know of Your goodness through them! Thank you for making me in Your image and calling me Your child. Help me stay close enough to You that Your heart begins to shape mine. Teach me to see with Your eyes, speak with Your grace, love with Your compassion, and reflect You more clearly in all areas of my life. Amen.

Until next time, keep following the Plott, and I will be praying for us all. 💛