With the Grain

Martin Okafor had been building a cedar hope chest for his daughter Amara's sixteenth birthday — and he'd finally agreed to let her help sand the lid. She was eager but clumsy, going against the grain, leaving scratches in the wood. Martin felt the correction rising sharp in his throat: You're doing it wrong. Here, give it to me.

He'd said those words before. He knew what they cost.

Instead, he put his hand over hers, guided the motion — with the grain, slow strokes — and watched her face shift from anxiety to concentration to pride. An hour later, the cedar was smooth and warm under her palm.

Paul's charge in Ephesians 6:4 runs in two directions at once. Don't exasperate your children — don't crush the eagerness out of them with impatience or contempt. And then the harder work: bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. That word paideia — formation, upbringing — carried the weight of a whole civilization's best wisdom passed hand to hand, generation to generation. Not barked commands, but patient shaping. Not performance pressure, but the long craft of character. The Almighty forms His people the same way — with correction that restores rather than humiliates, with instruction rooted in love rather than anxiety. The workbench is never just about the wood. It is always about the child beside you, and what they will carry forward long after you are gone.