I met a guy named Tony this week.

 

Tony was walking funny, like he was injured. I asked him what was up. He told me that 13 days ago, he gave his kidney to his dad, who was in need of a transplant.

 

I perked up instantly, and heard myself say to him, "You did? No way! That is cool!" I wasn't sure that this was appropriate, but I said it before I thought about it (a semi-common mistake of mine).

 

Tony put his head down with a satisfying smile, thankfully, and then looked up and said, "Yeah...it was cool."

 

I asked him all about it, and he graciously gave me the details. His look told me he was wondering why I was so on the edge of my seat about his special gift to his dad. Maybe you are, too.

 

Well, about 2 1/2 years ago (right, dad?), my dad found out he was in need of kidney transplant. He went onto dialysis, and onto a waiting list.

 

It hit me hard when I thought of all the unknowns about donating a kidney. But when my dad told me, I said (somewhat reluctantly, and full of fear of the unknown, but wanting to do the right thing), "Dad, I'll give you kidney." And then I waited for his response...

 

I didn't wait long. As if he had prepared his answer for such an offer from any of his sons, he said, "Nope. I'll be fine on dialysis." And then in his usual, unstoppable optimism (a trait that I am so grateful to have inherited from him in double portion), he added, "All the signs say that I'm a great candidate for a transplant before too long. I'll be just fine."

 

He then added, "You may need your second one later."

 

At the time I didn't argue with dad. My fear of the implications of the voluntary surgery right then in the heat of the moment prevented me from being stubborn about it. Even though I think I told my dad 'thank you', I don't think I ever told anyone how very relieved I was with his response.

 

In a talk I did on the very next Father's Day, I replayed this story to my church family, saying, "It was out of deep love for my dad that I offered him my kidney, and it was out of my dad's deep love for me that he refused it."

 

But something triggered in me when I met Tony. I imagined the same interaction between him and his dad, but 13 days ago, they had a very different outcome play out. I can imagine Tony getting up and saying at his church, "It was out of deep love for my dad that I offered him my kidney, and it was out of my dad's deep love for me that he accepted it." I don't think that Tony's dad loved his son any more or less by receiving the offer. And I don't think my dad loves me any more or less by refusing mine.

 

(SIDE NOTE: I am grateful for whoever donated their kidney to my dad. I guess in a weird sort of way, that person donated the kidney to me. Because I wouldn't have two of them if it wasn't for them.)

 

Okay, so if it is true that it is the thought that counts, then I gave my dad a kidney. But Tony has a scar on his side that I don't have, and is doing healing from his gift that I didn't do. Not that I needed any more evidence, but this showed me once again that I don't think it is the thought alone that counts.

 

I wonder if, when I told Tony that my dad refused mine, if something triggered in him?

 

I wonder if my dad had any feelings of unworthiness at receiving such a gift from me? I wonder if Tony had any feelings of wonder at why his dad wouldn't refuse his? Neither of us even thought to talk about this stuff as we were celebrating the unity we had at the opportunity of giving such a special and sacrificial gift to our fathers, who we love. In the end, we both got to love our dad's with the same offer, and we both received love from our dad's in different ways.

 

In an episode of the current hit TV show, LOST, one of the dudes had a flashback to an interaction with his long-lost dad, who faked deep love for his long lost son who he tracked down because he was in need of a kidney. He emotionally manipulated his son into the operating room, disappeared from the hospital as soon as it was over, and again removed himself from his son's life. It was desperately painful to watch such pain inflicted on a son by a Father, especially in the under the guise of love.

 

I guess Tony just made me long for the blessing of actually loving my dad through actual sacrifice of myself. And it was neat to see someone who did it for his dad.

 

I praise God for the opportunity Tony and I had to offer ourselves to our dad's, who love us deeply right back.

 

Not that I'm hoping for it, but next time, dad, I might argue with you a little bit.

 

I love you and thank you for yours.