My dad died a week ago, on a Sunday evening of a massive stroke. He had been a pioneer and an innovator in ministry throughout his eighty years of life. In the early 60's he envisioned a new approach to teaching teens God's truths and was snatched up by a Christian publishing company to write a new curriculum which unbelievably is still being used in some circles today. In the mid to late 60's he saw a generation of baby boomer students hitting the college campuses and losing their hope in Christ. He helped formulate a new kind of ministry, Campus Ministry, to reach, challenge, encourage, shape college age young people for Christ.
In the late 70's and early 80's my dad envisioned a new ministry to Senior adults who were leaving the workplace. This "Greatest Generation," as termed by Tom Brokaw, was the most successful, had the most available resources, the most experience, the greatest work ethic of any generation heading into retirement. My dad saw the potential to the Kingdom of God. He sought to mobilize this vast army of talent, heart, wealth, experience to action and thus launched Christian Seniors Fellowship.
I learned a lot from my dad. It's weird the memories that suddenly pop into your mind at such a time of loss. I can picture my dad teaching me to ride a bike as he ran along side. He taught me to play baseball in the back yard and enrolled me in Little League. He gave me my first taste of sports. He taught me how to pick cherries from our trees, to plant roses and how to care for them. He taught me to drive in all sorts of traffic and weather conditions. He gave me the confidence to try to fix things around the house or on the car when they broke down. I learned to be "me" no matter the environment or company in which I found myself. Growing up in Cincinnati, he taught me to hustle, to give my all and run out every play like Pete Rose. I learn how not to camp from my dad. I learned to be a giver from him.
For all my dad taught me, my love for God is first and foremost. It was his life. Just as Deuteronomy instructs fathers to teach their kids formally and informally, my dad did that for me. Whether it was working in the rose garden, family devotions, riding in the car or around the campfire, he found ways to point me to God and His truths.
My dad loved people. The coffee was always on at our house. There's nothing he enjoyed more than sitting around the kitchen table with friends and family eating, laughing and sharing well into the evening. It was no reclining to the living room at our house, the dining room table was relaxing enough as the laughter and stories went on for hours. It was party wherever he went. He realized the value of relationships and how much people mattered.
I wore my dad's shoes to his funeral. Filling his shoes is probably not possible. He accomplished more in his lifetime for the Kingdom of God than I ever will. I'm not him. I've developed some of his mannerism and am working on his profile, but I'll never be him. However, I am a part of his legacy and so are you if you're reading this. I developed my passion for people and ministry through the example he set for me. And although I can't fill my dad's shoes, I can follow in his foot steps, allowing God to use my gifts and talents for Him.
God, thanks for the example of faith and service my dad was not only to me but to many. I'm a follower of Christ because of he and my mom. I feel so blessed. I pray that I can be as an effective servant for you as he was. I'm so thankful for heaven. I look forward to being in your presence and being united with my dad for eternity. Thanks for the hope beyond the grave, God, that you made possible through Jesus Christ.
1 comment:
a few years ago when grandpa had to give up the house, just before he became sick he told my mom that he felt like he had failed in life because he had not left an inheritance for his children.
By the time I saw grandpa again he was already sick, and I cant say for sure how much he remembered me. but after that we never again had a meaningful in-depth conversation -the kind we always had. So I never got to tell him this ...
...how much I disagreed with his comment.
What Grandpa left was a legacy that no amount of money could buy. two preacher sons, two daughters in the ministry, one of them in the mission field for 36 years, two grandsons who are preachers and missionaries. two missionaries granddaughters, other grandkids and great grandkids who probably will also end up in the ministry, and the list goes on.
so if I had to choose between a monetary inheritance or a spiritual one from Grandpa, I would definitely choose the spiritual one. If he could live his life all over again, I would say to him, don’t change a thing. I would rather keep my eternal inheritance, than all the temporary millions in the world.
He taught me many things too... how to laugh (even when he was sick, and only said a few words, they were always filled with humor) he taught me how to be a good husband (even when he was frustrated, I NEVER saw him loose control of his temper with grandma during the 5 years that a lived with him while in college. He taught me the value of time and urgency (he never left something undone for later.) He taught me to be outgoing an d social (the word "shy" was not in his vocabulary. He could start a conversation up with total strangers, and he always did. he taught me about patience and understanding (he put up with me with me even when he didn’t agree with my decisions - like my goofy haircuts, he even put up with my ignorance - like my broken English.) And most of all, he taught me not to give up. When life and ministry got tough, he always stayed the course, "finished the race," and persevered to the end.
I could have never asked for anything greater than what he gave me. He poured out his life and heart for me and others, and I will always be thankful that God gave me a grandpa like him. Why do I share this now? Am I worried that he never got to hear it from me? No! Because I know for a fact that he is hearing it personally from JESUS himself and many other witnesses that have gone before him. So I will rest easy tonight, knowing he knows.
John Dye
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