To A Thousand Generations...
I have always respected my grandfather. Growing up, he just seemed like a really neat guy. He was always ready to play with us - always ready to smile - more often than not getting yelled at by my grandmother because he was getting us too riled up. I can remember going to church every Sunday growing up, going up to my grandfather who was sitting and talking with the other older guys of the church, getting on his lap and getting a piece of candy. I can remember driving home with him from church when he and my grandmother came over for lunch. I can remember his work area in his basement. I can remember the crossword puzzles and the thunderous snoring. They are good memories.
He was a man who was greatly respected by people in the church I grew up in. To this day, ten years after his death, I still have people tell me what a wonderful person he was. He was a leader of the church, serving as an elder pretty much every time he was able to. He reached out to those in need in the church and was not adverse to self-sacrifice for others. He was esteemed as a teacher and for the few classes that I got to sit in on his teaching, he certainly had a way of holding an audience.
He is the person who I most credit my faith in Jesus to (though, sadly, he never got to see the fruition of that faith). He was one of those early models of what it meant to be a believer and live out a real faith to the service of others and the glory of God.
My father never held such a position in my life. There were occasions that my father was present when someone would ask who most impacted my walk with Jesus. I would almost sheepishly respond knowing that I was passing over my own father in order to talk about the impact my grandfather had. It never felt quite right but nor could I honestly say that my father had impacted me in the same way.
My father and I didn’t get along very well growing up. We have different personalities in some respects and very similar ones in others. Unfortunately, the differences tended to drive us apart and the similarities tended to make us compete for mutual desires. As can be imagined, this didn’t facilitate what would be considered a very healthy relationship.
As I began to mature, and most certainly when I started having children, I began to see my father in a different light. He had not changed as much as I began to understand why he was the person he was. A particularly poignant mutual forgiveness helped to heal old wounds and deepened our relationship. I have been grateful of God’s grace in both our lives that have helped us to have a nourishing father/son relationship.
But even though the relationship is a good one, I still never saw my father as a spiritual leader, either in my life or the lives of others – certainly not in the same way as my grandfather was. But then over the Christmas holiday, I heard my father pray. I had heard him pray before, so it’s not like this was some earth shattering event. I had even heard him pray heartfelt prayers.
But something about this prayer was different. I was finally struck during this prayer of the very quiet way that my father has been a spiritual presence in my life. Perhaps he was not the larger-than-life person that compelled you to walk in his steps like my grandfather was. Perhaps he was not the motivator or discipler that other important men and women in my life have been. But he has always been there. He has always been faithfully providing an environment that would be most conducive to spiritual growth. He hasn’t been the sun or the water or the dirt or the nutrients that have helped me to spiritually grow. But he has been the quiet gardener that has tilled the soil, cut branches when necessary, even transplanted if that would help me to grow. He has been a quietly faithful man without whom I would not be who I am today.
And whispered through this thought I hear God’s wonderful promise – ‘to a thousand generations.’ My grandfather loved God. He obeyed Him. And God was faithful to His promise to bless the next generation. My father loved God. He obeyed Him. And God was faithful to His promise to bless the next generation. And now I stand in that line with my children. It is with certain assurance that as I love God and obey Him, that He will continue the blessing on to the next generation.
Categories: Living
He was a man who was greatly respected by people in the church I grew up in. To this day, ten years after his death, I still have people tell me what a wonderful person he was. He was a leader of the church, serving as an elder pretty much every time he was able to. He reached out to those in need in the church and was not adverse to self-sacrifice for others. He was esteemed as a teacher and for the few classes that I got to sit in on his teaching, he certainly had a way of holding an audience.
He is the person who I most credit my faith in Jesus to (though, sadly, he never got to see the fruition of that faith). He was one of those early models of what it meant to be a believer and live out a real faith to the service of others and the glory of God.
My father never held such a position in my life. There were occasions that my father was present when someone would ask who most impacted my walk with Jesus. I would almost sheepishly respond knowing that I was passing over my own father in order to talk about the impact my grandfather had. It never felt quite right but nor could I honestly say that my father had impacted me in the same way.
My father and I didn’t get along very well growing up. We have different personalities in some respects and very similar ones in others. Unfortunately, the differences tended to drive us apart and the similarities tended to make us compete for mutual desires. As can be imagined, this didn’t facilitate what would be considered a very healthy relationship.
As I began to mature, and most certainly when I started having children, I began to see my father in a different light. He had not changed as much as I began to understand why he was the person he was. A particularly poignant mutual forgiveness helped to heal old wounds and deepened our relationship. I have been grateful of God’s grace in both our lives that have helped us to have a nourishing father/son relationship.
But even though the relationship is a good one, I still never saw my father as a spiritual leader, either in my life or the lives of others – certainly not in the same way as my grandfather was. But then over the Christmas holiday, I heard my father pray. I had heard him pray before, so it’s not like this was some earth shattering event. I had even heard him pray heartfelt prayers.
But something about this prayer was different. I was finally struck during this prayer of the very quiet way that my father has been a spiritual presence in my life. Perhaps he was not the larger-than-life person that compelled you to walk in his steps like my grandfather was. Perhaps he was not the motivator or discipler that other important men and women in my life have been. But he has always been there. He has always been faithfully providing an environment that would be most conducive to spiritual growth. He hasn’t been the sun or the water or the dirt or the nutrients that have helped me to spiritually grow. But he has been the quiet gardener that has tilled the soil, cut branches when necessary, even transplanted if that would help me to grow. He has been a quietly faithful man without whom I would not be who I am today.
And whispered through this thought I hear God’s wonderful promise – ‘to a thousand generations.’ My grandfather loved God. He obeyed Him. And God was faithful to His promise to bless the next generation. My father loved God. He obeyed Him. And God was faithful to His promise to bless the next generation. And now I stand in that line with my children. It is with certain assurance that as I love God and obey Him, that He will continue the blessing on to the next generation.
Categories: Living
posted by PhilThreeten at
11:44 AM
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