Day 144

2 Samuel 13–14 | 1 Corinthians 3

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Sometimes the most devastating sins are the ones we don’t speak.

David knew that firsthand.

In 2 Samuel 13, his son Amnon violates Tamar—his own half-sister. It’s evil. Shameful. Sickening. And David hears about it.

But does nothing.

No confrontation.

No consequence.

No comfort to Tamar.

Just silence.

And that silence opens the door for Absalom to take justice into his own hands, killing Amnon two years later.

And David hears about that too.

But again… says nothing.

He longs for Absalom, we’re told. But he never initiates. Never reaches out. Never repents for doing nothing in the first place.

So the cycle continues.

Wounds deepen.

Resentment hardens.

And it all could’ve changed if the father had said something.

The Sin of Saying Nothing

There’s a quiet epidemic in Christian homes today.

It’s not abuse. It’s not adultery. It’s not addiction.

It’s absence.

Fathers who are physically present but spiritually passive.

Men who love God—but avoid hard conversations.

Husbands who’ve become drunk captains of the ship—leaving the first mate (their wives) to give the orders, discipline the kids, and steer through storms while they bury their heads in phones and hobbies.

And the ship is drifting.

I’ve done it myself.

I’ve watched moments with Sophia arise that needed a father’s voice—correction, discipleship, shepherding. I felt the weight of those moments… but still sat back and watched as Talacey carried them. She’s more than capable—wise and discerning in ways that humble me. But it should’ve been me. I was just tired. Or distracted. Or avoiding the pushback I didn’t want to deal with.

But God didn’t call me to fade into the passenger’s seat.

He called me to lead.

To speak.

To lean in when I want to check out.

To choose the hard conversation over the easy evening.

Because when a father goes silent, someone else will fill that void.

And the cost of our silence is often paid by our kids.

And it’s not just a family issue. It’s a church issue too.

Paul’s Rebuke to the Immature

That’s why 1 Corinthians 3 stings too.

Paul tells the church he wanted to feed them meat—but they were still on milk. Still immature. Still thinking like the world.

Still driven by comparison.

Still dividing over spiritual influencers.

Still jockeying for applause and attention.

It’s not a theological scolding. It’s a fatherly one.

He’s not mad they don’t know more. He’s grieved they haven’t grown up.

And it’s a good question for us:

Am I growing? Or coasting?

Am I leading? Or drifting?

Am I speaking when it’s time to speak… or hiding behind the excuse of peacekeeping?

Because passivity isn’t peacekeeping.

It’s just fear dressed up in Christian clothes.

The Restoration That Comes With Words

Eventually, David is persuaded to bring Absalom back to Jerusalem in 2 Samuel 14.

But even then, he doesn’t see him. Doesn’t speak to him. Not for two years.

And when he finally does… it’s too late.

Absalom’s heart has hardened. His pain has festered. His plan to steal the kingdom is already underway.

Because restoration doesn’t come through proximity.

It comes through conversation.

So What Do We Do?

We speak.

Not recklessly. Not angrily. But clearly. Gently. Truthfully.

We correct in love.

We disciple in grace.

We say the hard thing because our family’s flourishing depends on it.

Our kids don’t need dads who are perfect.

They need dads who are present.

And engaged.

And willing to say: “That behavior isn’t okay.”

Or: “Let’s talk about what God says about this.”

Or even: “I was wrong—and I want to do better.”

Because silence may feel safer in the moment.

But it always wrecks the ship.

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Lord, thank You for loving me too much to stay silent. Thank You for confronting sin with truth and restoring relationship with grace. Help me, as a father and a man of God, to speak up when I’d rather check out. To love with words, not just presence. To discipline with tenderness, not avoidance. Let my daughter see in me a man who doesn’t default to silence but chooses courage. Grow me up where I’m still immature. And anchor my leadership not in volume, but in truth. For Your glory, and for the good of my family. Amen.