I've been thinking about fathers lately, the influence they have in our lives, and how thankful I am for mine. To begin, I'm going to pop back about four generations.
In 1918, someone published a history of the counties that make up southeastern Washington state. The account says that James M. Lamb arrived there from Kentucky via California (there was a gold rush on and he was young and adventuresome, so that detour happened). The book includes a comment about Mr. Lamb, describing him as "...the most consistent Christian gentleman."
A consistent Christian gentleman. Not a captain of industry, a mountain of a man, a genius or a perfect person.
James Lamb's grandson was my grandpa Lamb. His life was modest, but he loved Jesus and studied God's word. When he was dying, my cousin Tina asked Grandpa for his favorite verse in the Bible. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding," he said. That's Proverbs 3:5.
Grandpa was present, and had something to say, at a pivoting-point for me. We were in Dixie, sitting together in his living room, and it began dawning on me that for several years I had pursued MY life with stubborn aggression and followed MY heart wherever I wanted, and in the process I had crushed the life and broken the heart. The room was very quiet, and I felt a pulverizing sorrow. Grandpa looked at me and said, "You look a little blue."
A little blue. I felt black. I went outside and sat between my favorite maple trees and fell to pieces alone.
Later that week I talked to my Dad. I told him I needed the Lord, and that I felt like I'd been too rotten. Dad told me, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9. He was suggesting that I pour out my trouble to the Lord, and he was pointing out the character of Christ - faithful and just. He was also reminding me to keep short accounts with God, like David, one of Dad's heroes of faith.
Since my audience is small and you all know me, you know the grace and mercy and blessings God has heaped on me since then, through no virtue of mine, and for the sake of Jesus, his beloved Son.
Earlier this spring I wrote Dad a note. I started by saying, "I'm writing this to apologize for something you probably don't remember..." and went on to say sorry for a two-decade-old incident that still bothered me. Next time he saw me, Dad said, "You were right! I don't remember!"
As a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. Psalm 103: 13, 14.
