A father’s legacy is not measured by wealth, fame, or accolades. It is built in the quiet, faithful moments of life – in prayer, in sacrifice, in presence.
Legacy Passed Down
My grandfather, Chujangpaba, son of Sapuba, was a man rooted in tradition, shaped by resilience, and committed to responsibility. Through his two marriages, he was blessed with seven sons and three daughters from his second wife’s previous marriage, forming a large and dynamic family.
My father, the youngest of all the siblings, was a man of carefree spirit, steadfast faith, and deep love for his family. His presence was never loud or boastful, yet it left an undeniable mark on everyone who knew him. He embodied the kind of strength that does not draw attention to itself but strengthens everything around it.
My own parents were similarly blessed. My father and mother raised a family of ten – five daughters and five sons. Our home echoed with sibling laughter, the quiet strength of our mother, and the constant, dependable rhythm of our parent’s prayer life. And now, by God’s infinite grace, my wife and I were entrusted with three precious children.
I am the ninth child of my parents, the youngest of five sons. Each of us siblings carries a unique part of our parents’ story – some remember them before they came to faith, others witnessed their transformation firsthand. I was born after they had come to faith in Christ. I never saw the people they once were, only the father and mother whose lives had already been surrendered to God. In many ways, I was born into a different season – one shaped by prayer, devotion, and spiritual renewal. I often think of this not as a matter of privilege, but of grace – a reminder that God, in His mercy, weaves redemption into every chapter of a family’s story.
This generational chain – from my grandfather to my father, from my parents to me, and from us to our children – is more than biology. It is a sacred inheritance of faith, sacrifice, and love, woven together with the thread of divine purpose.
From Loss to Comfort
Our journey into parenthood began with the same excitement that fills the hearts of all expectant parents. We dreamed of holding our first baby, watching him grow, and raising him in love. But in a tragic twist, our dreams were cut short. Our baby, born after a complicated delivery involving a forceps injury, stayed with us for only three days.
On the morning of February 9, 2007, I held my little boy in my arms – a child we had prayed for, prepared for, and longed to raise. In that hospital room, filled with sterile smells and silent sorrow, I wept – not loudly, but deeply.
The pain of losing a child is one no parent forgets. The weight of unfulfilled dreams, the silence where there should be laughter, the ache in arms that long to hold – all of it lingers. Yet, through our grief, we clung to a single comfort: our child was safe in the arms of our Heavenly Father. We live with the hope of reunion, when God shall wipe away every tear.
In those days, it was my father who steadied us. He didn’t offer many words. Instead, he offered his presence. His quiet embrace, the gentle strength in his tears, and the firm resolve in his prayers spoke volumes. He bore our pain with us and pointed us heavenward. That’s the kind of father he was – constant, comforting, and Christlike.
The Sacred Calling of Fatherhood
Fatherhood is not merely a biological role. It is a divine calling. A sacred trust. It’s about more than provision; it’s about presence. More than being available; it’s about being intentional. A father shapes his children’s understanding of themselves, the world, and God.
My father embraced this calling wholeheartedly. He raised us not only with hands that worked but with a heart that worshipped. He provided not just food for our bodies but truth for our souls. I remember when I was a young boy, my eldest brother, then serving as a pastor in Kohima, brought me along so I could pursue a better education. Today, the journey from Changki to Kohima takes about six hours by road. But in those days, public transportation was scarce. If one was fortunate, it could take two full days, often stopping overnight at a relative’s home in Mokokchung or Dimapur.
In that context, my father would travel all the way to Kohima to visit us – carrying a sack loads of vegetables, rice, and other homegrown food. That simple image of him walking those rough roads, carrying provisions for his children, is forever etched in my heart. It was not just an act of provision – it was an act of fatherly presence and sacrifice.
He taught us the value of hard work, the dignity of humility, the strength of character, and the joy of walking with God.
He disciplined us, yes. But always with care. He corrected us, but never without compassion. His words carried weight because they were backed by his actions.
Through his example, I learned that the role of a father is to sow seeds – of faith, kindness, courage, and conviction. Some seeds take years to grow, but a faithful father sows anyway. Now that I am called “Abao” by my own children, I understand more deeply what that name means. It is more than a title; it is a responsibility and an honor – one that my father carried with quiet devotion.
A Mirror of God’s Heart
Scripture tells us, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.” (Psalm 103:13) Fatherhood is meant to reflect God’s heart. In the way a good father forgives, protects, and uplifts his children, we glimpse the compassion and steadfast love of our Heavenly Father.
My father lived this truth not just in family devotions, but in everyday acts – in how he forgave us, how he bore burdens, and how he served without seeking applause. He was not perfect, but he was prayerful. Not wealthy by the world’s standards, but rich in faith.
As he grew older, his spirit grew gentler and his wisdom deeper. He became a man of quiet dignity – waking early to pray, reading Scripture to be transformed, not to impress. In his silence was depth. In his routine was reverence. He laid for us a foundation of faith, stone by stone, upon which we still stand.
“The righteous lead blameless lives; blessed are their children after them.” (Proverbs 20:7) I believe my siblings and I are recipients of that blessing – not because of our merit, but because of his faithfulness.
The Challenges of Fatherhood Today
Today, as I raise my own children in a world of distractions, I am more aware than ever of the weight of this calling. We live in a noisy age – an age of endless information but little wisdom, of connection but not always closeness.
Fathers are expected to be everything: providers, protectors, mentors, and emotional anchors – often without the guidance or support systems that previous generations enjoyed. The world keeps shifting the definition of manhood and fatherhood. But amid the confusion, one truth remains: fatherhood is still a sacred responsibility.
I am grateful I had a mentor in my father. He didn’t just teach us how to live; he showed us. Not just in public, but in the unseen hours – in prayer, in perseverance, in presence. He taught us that true leadership begins at home. Not with power, but with love. Not with dominance, but with discipleship.
We need to restore spaces where fathers are affirmed and encouraged. Churches and communities must mentor, support, and uplift fathers. My father came from a time when elders were honored, and spiritual leadership began in the home. We must reclaim that vision.
God’s Blueprint for Fatherhood
God’s design for fatherhood is beautiful. It is about stewardship – not just of time or money, but of souls. My father taught us that living for God isn’t just about Sunday worship or public service, but about daily faithfulness. It’s about kindness in conflict, integrity in work, and faith in adversity.
He was the protector of our family’s spiritual heartbeat. When storms came, he reached for prayer, not panic. When we stumbled, he spoke hope. When we needed correction, he gave it with grace.
Now in my fifties, I still hear his voice in mine. I find myself repeating his words, mirroring his gestures, and imitating his gentle firmness. And in doing so, I see how deeply he shaped me.
The Fatherhood of God
Not all have had the blessing of a godly earthly father. Some carry deep wounds. But even in brokenness, hope shines through. Scripture assures us, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1)
God is the perfect Father – always present, always loving, always just. My earthly father gave me a glimpse of this divine love. Through his forgiveness, I learned grace. Through his strength, I learned trust. Through his prayers, I found purpose.
Like the father in the parable of the prodigal son, my father was ready to forgive, eager to welcome, joyful in our return. His love mirrored the compassion of God.
Charles Spurgeon once said, “A father’s holy life is a rich legacy for his sons.” That truth is timeless. A father’s faithfulness becomes a treasure not stored in banks, but in hearts. Not measured by quantity, but by quality. And though Spurgeon spoke of sons, the legacy is for daughters and spiritual children too.
Conclusion
Fatherhood is a journey of joy and sorrow, strength and humility, correction and compassion. My father walked that path with distinction. He never chased power, but he empowered us. He didn’t leave monuments, but he left meaning. And for that, I honor him.
This reflection is more than a memory. It is a tribute to a man whose quiet life still speaks, whose foundation of faith still stands beneath me, and whose example I strive to follow.
If you are a father, know this: your quiet acts of love shape eternity. If you are a son or daughter, honor your father by living out the values he taught. And if you’ve never known such love, turn to the One true Father, whose love never fails.
Let us lift up the next generation of fathers – with encouragement, mentorship, and prayer. And may we all walk in the legacy of faith, leaving behind not just names, but godly examples that will echo through generations to come.