The impact this man has had in 80 years is immeasurable this side of glory. I've heard the stories, I can actually say I sat on his knee while he told some of them. I sat in the pew while I witnessed some of the stories, I've read the pages of the book where he has shared some of these stories...and I sit back in awe of the massiveness of Jesus in this man.
There is one human being on this earth whose words would cause me to stop exactly what i'm doing, take notice and respond (not including my wife, of course). There is one human being who could tell me, "The Lord says..." and I'd probably not even question it. I would do anything to be half the man he is. I'm so thankful to be in Portland, I love my city, I never want to leave. But one of the hardest things about being out here is that I can't sit face to face with this man all the time and ask him to teach me, disciple me. Let me learn life from you. I hate that my kids don't know their Pop-pop and Gigi better.
Even as I sit in this coffee shop, I wish to be sitting at his kitchen table, joining him in prayer for our family, for the church, for anyone who comes across his mind or whose face is on their fridge. I wish to watch him love the stranger that comes across his day; no matter their race, culture, belief, or lifestyle. I wish to hear him unfold the mysteries of Christ that my mind is to small to fathom. Tears of thankfulness fill my eyes as I rejoice over sharing his last name. The legacy he has given me, the opportunity to share in that legacy is beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. His un-ending surrender to Jesus is a lesson to me each and every moment...oh if I would only listen better.
80 years, Grandpa. Thank you for giving your life and your breath in service to our Lord. Thank you for loving us and wrestling with us when we were so young. Thank you for battling in ministry and with your health with grace and love. Let's go for 80 more!
Happy Birthday! I love you.
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