Walking Through the Jungle: Jurassic Park, Dr. Grant, St. Joseph, and the Vocation of Fatherhood

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In the fear of the Lord one has strong confidence, and one’s children will have a refuge.

– Proverbs 14:26

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When I first picked up Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, I wasn’t expecting a meditation on fatherhood. I expected chaos, dinosaurs, and maybe a little philosophical musing on science and ethics. What I didn’t expect was to see a quiet, reluctant hero emerge in Dr. Alan Grant—a man who, like St. Joseph, never asked to be a father but became one when the moment demanded it.

Dr. Grant begins the story as a brilliant paleontologist, more comfortable with fossils than with children. He’s skeptical, even dismissive, of the idea of having kids. But when the park descends into chaos and two children—Tim and Lex—are left vulnerable and alone, something shifts. He doesn’t hesitate. He steps into the breach and becomes their protector. Their guide, and steady presence in a world gone mad.

It’s hard not to see the echo of St. Joseph in that moment.

Joseph, too, didn’t plan on fatherhood. He was a quiet man, a carpenter, engaged to Mary and likely envisioning a simple life. Then came the angel, and the call to raise a child who wasn’t biologically his. And when danger came—when Herod sought to destroy the Christ Child—Joseph didn’t flinch. He took Mary and Jesus and fled to Egypt. He walked them through the wilderness, through uncertainty and fear, to safety.

That’s the call of fatherhood, isn’t it?

Most of us don’t feel ready. We don’t always feel equipped. We’re not perfect. But when the moment comes—when our wives and children need us—we’re called to rise. To protect and guide. To walk through the jungle, through chaos, through the metaphorical dinosaurs that threaten to devour the ones we love.

And let’s be honest: there are plenty of dinosaurs out there.

They don’t have teeth or claws, but they’re just as dangerous. The culture of distraction pulls our kids away from wonder and presence. The lies about identity and worth that creep in through screens and silence. The pressures that tell us our value is in our productivity, not our presence. The temptation to check out, to numb out, to give up.

As fathers—biological, adoptive, spiritual—we are called to stand in the gap. To be the ones who say, “Not on my watch.” To be the ones who, like Dr. Grant, take the hands of the children entrusted to us and say, “Stay close. I’ve got you.”

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present.

Dr. Grant didn’t suddenly become a parenting expert. He didn’t have a five-step plan for surviving a dinosaur-infested island. But he showed up. He listened. He adapted. He kept going. And in doing so, he gave Tim and Lex something more powerful than safety—he gave them courage.

St. Joseph did the same. He didn’t speak a word in Scripture, but his actions spoke volumes. He was faithful, obedient, and steady. And in his quiet strength, he gave Jesus and Mary the space to flourish.

That’s the kind of father I want to be.

I want to be the kind of man who doesn’t run from the jungle. Who doesn’t ignore the danger. I want to be the kind of man who walks with his family through the challenges, keeps his eyes on heaven, and says—by his presence, his love, his sacrifice—“We’re going to make it. Together.”

So maybe Jurassic Park isn’t just a sci-fi thriller. Maybe it’s a reminder and a challenge.

To be like Dr. Grant.

To be like St. Joseph.

To be the kind of father who walks his family through the wilderness—dinosaurs and all—toward the Promised Land.