"I'm ok with knowing that you're not going to like me for the next 20 minutes -- or 20 years..."

I've long held that parental love consists, in part, of two dimensions:

• Unconditional affection
• Firm discipline

(There's a third, most important element, by the way.) Both of these elements spring from the same desire for what's best for children.

With affection, parents convey to their children just how worthy their young ones are and they give children confidence to deal with life. Home and family become safe havens.

With discipline, parents acquaint their kids with the fundamental fact of the universe: "God is God and you and I aren't." Kids learn that there are limits to what they can and should have and that their desires aren't always more important than those of others. We all have to share this planet; discipline teaches kids how to share, not to mention preventing them from becoming insufferable bullies, first, with their parents and families and later, with others.

You might enjoy the way Jill Hudson Neal puts all of this in perspective in an article in today's Washington Post:

Life is sometimes unbearable for a two-year-old, you understand, and my sweet thing has taken to falling out (literally) whenever he confronts the many injustices in his world: having his Binky taken away, not being brought a snack whenever he wants one, having to watch the 6 o'clock news rather than "The Backyardigans," and his older brother's existence. He also regularly glares, pouts and screams like a dolphin trapped in a tuna net, which makes me both furious and nearly suicidal.

Something has to give. So I've pulled my Mean Mommy cap out of cold storage.

It's not as scary as it sounds. It doesn't have to be worn with a scowl or sneer, and it's not meant to frighten the kids into a lifetime of Freudian analysis. I don't want my children to be terrified of me, but having them know that I'm a tough mom can't be a bad thing. I hope they know I'm a firm, loving caretaker who always has their back. But a little fear might go a long way.

And it also sends an important message: "I'm ok with knowing that you're not going to like me for the next 20 minutes -- or 20 years..."

I know a man in his early thirties who, several years back, went through the breakup of his marriage. Although, it takes two to make or break any relationship, this fellow was the biggest contributor to the demise of their union. Both before and since, he's seen the beginnings and ends of a procession of romantic relationships.

That's primarily because he's an overgrown brat, always catered to by his still-doting parents, perpetually stuck in the Terrible Twos. (By the way, my wife and I found with our kids that the Threes were more challenging than the Twos.) Extended family members tell the same story: Ned initially charms people. But eventually, the real person emerges. "If he doesn't get his way," one relative tells me, "he flails his arms and breaks things." Break enough things and eventually, relationships are broken too.

Of course, Ned is old enough to know better. You can't blame his parents. He's responsible for himself. But his gutless parents, unwilling to be unpopular for even twenty minutes, unfortunately set a pattern in Ned's life from which he may never break free. He simply can't imagine not getting his way. Ever. That's a prescription for a lonely, bitter life.

In an important scene in Remember the Titans, black head coach Herman Boone, played by Denzel Washington, confronts his white assistant, Bill Yoast, played by Will Patton, for coddling the black players. By doing so, Boone claimed, Yoast wasn't helping the players, he was "crippling them, crippling them for life."

Parents who never say, "No" to their children, who are unwilling to pay the price of being unpopular for a season, and who rarely impose expectations on their kids, cripple them for life. Life doesn't always tell us, "Yes." Nor should it. Parents who fail to let their kids know that aren't loving.

They may be irresponsible.

Or lazy.

Or uncaring.

But they're not loving.

This isn't to say that childhood should be like an extended stay on Parris Island.

Nor should parents impose unfair demands on their kids.

I know a man who was a star basketball player in his high school days. (Or at least through his constant retelling of the myth, he thinks he was.) His son is playing basketball, although his favorite sport is hockey. But, to hear the father tell it, the son never plays well enough. More than a few people have witnessed vicious public scoldings, including threatened punishments, if the son doesn't perform up to snuff.

I'm not even sure that what this father does falls under the heading of "discipline," though from his warped perspective, he may think so. If discipline is aimed at helping our children function responsibly in the world, bullying them into becoming what we always dreamed of being ourselves is of no value.

But discipline--parents letting kids know what is expected of them and enforcing those expectations--is an essential element of responsible, loving parenting.

By the way, what is the most important obligation of parents? I believe it's to let them know, through our words and our lives, about the God Who reveals Himself ultimately in Jesus Christ.

(See here and here.)