In Me As It Is In Heaven

Posted on July 11, 2009 by Jason

So I’ve been reading Luke lately. Actually I’ve been reading Luke for most of this year. Reading it really slowly and just trying to soak it all up. It’s been really good, really challenging. I love what Luke is doing and the emphasis he places upon Jesus’ ministry to the poor, how that message is ultimately good news to the outcast, the downtrodden, the poor, those who have no hope and no voice. Jesus emerges as this kind of heroic figure who identifies with those who are the easiest to forget and ignore in our society and he forces us to consider the totality of humanity and what it means that we’re all made in God’s image.

And I realized something yesterday that I never quite took hold of. I realized that Jesus spent a lot of time talking about the Kingdom and how it’s coming and how in a way it’s already here in Him, through Him. But He doesn’t just talk about the Kingdom; he actively prays for it’s arrival. In the Lord’s prayer as recorded over in Luke 11, he prays for the Kingdom of God to come (11:2). And then he spends his whole life trying to make that prayer a reality.

Not only do I love the congruence between Jesus’ interior life of prayer and his public ministry, I am deeply convicted by the lack of this kind of prayer in my own life. I never pray for the Kingdom of God to come. Never. I don’t pray for God’s Kingdom reign to begin in me and to flow forth freely from there out into the world in tangible ways. I don’t pray that I can actively pursue the fullness of the Kingdom by seeking the many different things I can do to help restore and repair the world (as the Jewish concept goes). But I NEED to be praying for this. I think if I oriented my prayer life this way, the result would be a radical transformation in my ministry, in my worldview.

Another thing struck me: I spend an awful lot of time pursuing purposes that aren’t Kingdom. Some of these are just benign interests, things like hobbies and reading and fantasy baseball. These things aren’t bad; I don’t buy into some sort of Greek dualism of sacred and secular that neatly categorizes the world this way. If anything, I’m more Jewish in my thinking: I think the world belongs to God (Deut. 10:14) and as His possession, the whole thing is sacred. But there are plenty of things I pursue that simply aren’t Kingdom purposes. And as much time and energy as I exert on those things, you’d think that I wasn’t a believer. You’d think I was chasing after another Kingdom. That I was desiring an altogether Kingdom to come and reign in me.

And that’s the challenge: will I let the Kingdom reign of God flow through me or will I reject his lordship for residence in another Kingdom. We live in a world of competing Kingdoms. Jesus, teach me to pray as you prayed: may your Kingdom come, may your will be done, in me as it is in heaven. Amen.

Posted in Jesus, Poverty, Prayer, Sacred / Secular Divide, Scripture, Social Issues | Leave a comment

Turning Five

Posted on July 6, 2009 by Jason

It’s hard for me to believe that my two oldest are turning five today. In many ways, I can’t believe they’re that old. But I also have a hard time remembering what my life was like before Abby Kate and Joshua were born. I know this: my life was less busy, less chaotic, and nowhere near as fulfilling as it is today. Abby Kate and Joshua, being your father is the truest joy I know in life. You are tangible reminders to me of God’s goodness and His glory. I couldn’t be any prouder of the two of you. Happy Birthday, guys!

Soundtrack notes: My kids love Coldplay (I wonder why), so the instrumental Life in Technicolor that kicks off the video was a no-brainer. One of Joshua and Abby Kate’s favorite things to do is for me to crank up Mansard Roof (song #2) on the stereo and for us to dance around the living room; thus, I had to include it in the video, too. The final cut, Tomlin’s Love, is a song that’s a bit new to us. We’ve recently discovered it and it was a perfect fit for this video and for what we feel as we reflect on the first five years of our kids’ lives.

Posted in Blessings, Kids, Video | Leave a comment

Take Me Out to the Ballpark

Posted on July 1, 2009 by Jason


Two weeks ago, Sunny and I visited Washington D.C. for the first time. She’s doing a great job of chronicling our trip over at her blog, but I wanted to post about catching a ball game at Nationals Park while we were there. All told, this was ballpark #24 for me; I’ve been to 17 current stadiums and 7 now defunct ballparks. (I’m still working on a way to get up to Fenway to catch a game sometime soon.)

The Nationals Park was great; the Metro drops you off just a block from the stadium entrance; the staff was extremely helpful; and, unfortunately for Nats ownership, you can pretty much pick where you want to sit since they’re aren’t more than a handful of fans at any given home game! Seriously, the place is beautiful and the lines of sight are great throughout the park. It has all the amenities that your modern ballparks have (there’s even a Build-A-Bear shop in the outfield concourse) but the main attraction for us is always the game itself.

One of the non-baseball-related highlights at the game for me was bumping into George Will in the Nats Team Store. Oddly enough, he was looking at the hoodies. Didn’t see that coming. I told him I had a copy of Bunts and that I admired his work.

This is me with the militant-looking Honest Abe mascot. After posing for 10 minutes with every infant and toddler in the concourse, I think he was a little annoyed that a grown man asked to get his pic with him.

For the record, here are the current ballparks I’ve been to, in order of favorite to least favorite:

  1. New Busch, St. Louis (obviously)
  2. Coors Field, Denver (tough to beat the majestic Rocky Mountains out there in the distance)
  3. Comerica Park, Detroit (perfect blend of tradition and aesthetics)
  4. Wrigley, Chicago (a great place to watch the Cubs lose)
  5. Camden Yards, Baltimore (I think this is Sunny’s favorite that we’ve been to)
  6. PETCO Park, San Diego (it has personality and, hey, who could argue with San Diego’s climate?)
  7. Nationals Park, D.C.
  8. PNC Park, Pittsburgh
  9. Great American Ballpark, Cincinnati
  10. Turner Field, Atlanta
  11. U.S. Cellular Field, Chicago (would be lower on the list, but for my personal guided tour and the chance to get down on the field. Thanks, Lenny, wherever you are.)
  12. Angel Stadium, Anaheim
  13. Rangers Ballpark, Arlington
  14. Minute Maid Park, Houston (I hate that stupid flagpole in center. Almost as much as I hate the home team.)
  15. Progressive Field, Cleveland (I was really disappointed in this one.)
  16. Chase Field, Phoenix (not a huge fan of baseball indoors or swimming at the game)
  17. Dodger Stadium, L.A. (we went prior to the McCourt remodeling project. I hear it’s better now.)
Posted in Baseball, Sunny | 3 Comments

A Love Affair with Celebrity

Posted on June 26, 2009 by Jason

I’d forgotten how good Michael Jackson’s music was. But in light of his death yesterday, I’ve been playing some of his songs on my iTunes this afternoon and it’s really good stuff. I can’t help but laugh when I hear “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough”. Have you ever seen the video for that song? Cheese-y.

The ubiquitous media coverage of Jackson’s death reminds me of what a celebrity-inundated culture we live in. I can’t help but think of Jackson’s life in tragic terms. Here’s what I mean: you have to wonder if some of the problems he dealt with over the course of his life were the result of being cast as a celebrity at such a young age. I’ve always thought the whole Wonderland estate thing was just an attempt to re-capture whatever childhood Jackson lost by beginning his recording career so early. I sort of feel the same way for the children of a popular TLC reality show; you just hope they turn out OK in spite of being thrust in the limelight at such a young age.

And our 24/7 newsfeed addiction is just fuel to the fire of our love affair with celebrity. I watched the morning news programs for about an hour this morning and didn’t hear anything about North Korea, Iran, health-care reform, the economy….it was 45 minutes of Michael Jackson and about 10 of Farrah Fawcett.

Sigh.

Posted in Music, Social Issues, Television | 4 Comments

Born For Love

Posted on June 24, 2009 by Jason

We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.

— Benjamin Disraeli
Posted in Quotes | 2 Comments

Another Man: My Dad

Posted on June 21, 2009 by Jason

It’s fitting for me to remember my own father on this Father’s Day. Many of you have heard me share my story, but all I can say is that there is something very therapeutic about remembering. I miss my Dad a lot, especially on days like today. But I also really enjoy remembering who he is to me and I cherish the promise that someday we’ll be together again in a way that will be eternally satisfying. Until then…
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Al Bybee, my Dad

The word “hero” has been prostituted and cheapened in recent times. The ability to dunk a basketball does not a hero make. We venerate celebrity, electing the most vain among us as our idols. But what of those whose contributions occur on a much smaller stage? What of those who would aim no higher than to raise a godly family? What of the man who is fiercely devoted to his wife and his children? What of the one who quietly labors to provide for those he loves? How are his deeds to be measured? Is he somehow less heroic than our million dollar athletes and our rock star gods?

It should come as no surprise that my father ranks as the primary male influence in my life. I’ve had many influences and I’m thankful for each, but I only use the word “hero” in reference to my father & Jesus. All my life, I’ve wanted to be like my Dad. I used to study him: the way he sat in church, the way he read the Sunday paper, the way he ate his eggs. I copied his sounds: the way he laughed, the way he snored, the way he spit out his toothpaste. He was a mountain of a man to me, a larger than life being. He was the funniest person I knew and I loved it when we would joke around and play and have tickle fights. But he was the voice of discipline to me, too, and I feared him for this. I dare not disappoint him for fear of his belt. I learned of God’s character through my relationship with my Dad. Even today, I approach God with a similar sense of laughter and fear.

My father was a complicated, layered individual. He was a skeptic, paranoid to the core. He taught me to always question, to always be on guard, to look out for myself. “If anyone is ever picking on you, stand up for yourself. If you don’t stand up for yourself, nobody else is going to do it for you.” Blake King called me stupid on the playground in kindergarten. I bloodied his nose and I did so with righteous indignation. At the behest of my mother, we had a talk and Daddy redefined what it meant for me to stand up for myself. But inwardly, I suspect he was pleased that his boy took his words to heart.

My Dad always answered when I called. We used to play hide-and-seek and I would sometimes get scared if I couldn’t find him quickly. I would only need to call his name and he would come out from his hiding place to relieve my fears. When my father became ill in 1987, I would visit with him each morning before school. After months of treatment, his body began to break down, his resistance slowly eroding as the cancer spread. One morning in particular, I went in to see him before school. He looked to be asleep in his hospital-style bed that was in our living room. I called out his name, but for the first time, he didn’t respond. I reached for his hand and called him again, but again no response.

I don’t know what you think about God speaking to us individually. I’ve never heard voices, I’ve never seen an angel. But in that moment, standing beside my father as a 10 year old, God spoke to me. I say this because a thought was placed on my mind and in my heart in that moment that was far too profound to be my own. I remember thinking, “My father may still be alive, but he’s not really living.” In that moment, I understood the extent of his illness for the first time. I saw how weak and frail he was. My father was a big man, 6’2″, 225 in his heyday. But as the cancer spread to his kidneys, he literally withered away to less than 150 lbs. His face was pale, his strength was gone. My dad was a giant, full of vigor and jokes and life. But the man I saw before me bore little resemblance to my father.

In that moment, I prayed that if the only reason my father was still alive was so I would have a Daddy, then I didn’t want that. I wanted my Dad to be better. So I prayed, “God, it’s OK with me if you take my Daddy as long as You promise to be my Father.” My dad died about a half hour later.

Al and Jason Bybee, 1986

I miss my Dad now more than I did 19 years ago when he died. Now that I’m a father, I desperately crave his presence. The silence of his absence is most deafening on those special days in my life: graduations, my wedding, the birth of my children. I long for him to meet my wife, to meet my children. But I live in the hopeful expectation that someday, I’ll see him again.

Oh how sweet our embrace will be on that far distant shore when I call your name and you come running to meet me with open arms! And we in turn will call out the name of our one Father, the God who created us and saw fit to make us father and son and brothers in Christ! Until that day comes, my life stands as a testimony to you, Dad. I will see you soon.

Your son,
Jason

Posted in Another Man, Dad, Family | 1 Comment

Another Man: Johnny Markham

Posted on June 20, 2009 by Jason

When I originally wrote this post, I was serving as a youth minister at Mayfair. Even though my ministry role has changed over the past couple of years, I still look to Johnny as one of my “mental models” of the kind of minister I want to be. He is my brother, my friend, and one of the people I most admire.

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Johnny Markham, my youth minister

I think we often fail to see how God is working in our lives in the present. It’s usually only in hindsight that I’m able to discern His activity. Looking back, it’s easy to see how God has blessed my life with the presence of Johnny Markham.

In 1990, Johnny and his wife Vicki moved to the College Street Church of Christ in Lebanon, TN. Little did I know this would be one of the greatest blessings of my life. Johnny had instant credibility with me when I learned he was a lifelong St. Louis Cardinal fan. My affection for Johnny would only grow over the years. He fostered a warm, welcoming environment that made me feel comfortable, an environment I desperately try to mimic in my current ministry. He had a way of respecting others, whether I thought they deserved it or not. He was so patient with us, but his patience only served to highlight the few moments he chastised us. I clearly remember one Wednesday night class my freshman year. We’d all been laughing and talking, not paying attention while Johnny taught class. After a half hour of asking us to quiet down, Johnny lost it. Told us we were disappointing him. Said we needed to have more respect for God. I clearly remember thinking, “Wow, this God stuff really means something to him. Maybe it should mean something to me, too.”

Johnny took me on my first mission trip to Rochester, Minnesota. There were plenty of retreats, too. I remember playing football at one fall retreat in particular. None of us could keep up with him when Johnny lined up at WR (although a certain telephone pole went a long way toward leveling the playing field). My favorite memories are Monday Night Bible Studies at the Markham house. A dozen of us would pile into Johnny’s living room for two hours of laughs, prayers and time in the Word. Again, he gave us a safe environment to explore our faith. And somewhere along the way, I knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life as well.

I’m most thankful for Johnny’s presence in my life in the days immediately following the death of my mother. As I wrote in a previous post, I spent some of that time living with my stepfather before finally moving in with my sister. But amid those turbulent times, Johnny showed me incredible hospitality, offering to let me stay with his family for a while as I sorted things out. I never took him up on it, but I’ll also never forget the offer. His presence and influence are the primary reasons I’m a youth minister today. I wanted to reciprocate, to do for others what Johnny so graciously had done for me.

After my youth group days, I was privileged to serve as an intern for Johnny for two summers. I learned a lot those two summers: I learned about ministry, I learned about service, I learned how heavy a church pew is when you have to move it out of the auditorium, I learned to never underestimate the value of a good milk crate. But the greatest lesson Johnny ever taught me was one word: BALANCE. Balance is the key to ministry, the key to life. Know when to be funny, know when to be serious. Spend plenty of time at the office, but spend plenty of time at home with your family. As close as I’d felt to Johnny when I was in his youth group, our relationship blossomed in those years when I trained under his tutelage. And the stories…man, we’ve got some stories. Johnny gave me the worst intern assignment of all-time. I’ll spare you the details, but it has something to do with a broomstick and a pet bunny rabbit. Enough said.

My first year in ministry, Johnny was my mental model. I’d periodically find myself in a particular situation and I’d ask myself, “How would Johnny deal with this?” W.W.J.D. stood as much for “What would Johnny do?” as it stood for “What would Jesus do?” Cheesy, I know, but true. During that first year, before I’d developed my own voice, I would catch myself mimicking Johnny’s cadence and mannerisms. Such is the degree of his influence in my life.

Johnny has been a mentor to thousands of young people over the years. I’m part of a special fraternity of those who’ve interned under him. His influence upon me is difficult to assess, much less articulate. He’s the kind of youth minister I want to be. He’s the kind of father I want to be. The kind of husband I want to be. The kind of man I want to be. Johnny, you are my youth minister, and you have been so much more. You are my brother. You are my shepherd. And you are my friend. Thank you for your presence in my life. Because of you, I’ll never forget who I am and whose I am. I love you, man.

Posted in Another Man, Blessings | 2 Comments

Another Man: Richard Beard

Posted on June 18, 2009 by Jason

I originally wrote this back in 2006 as part of my Another Man series. This post is in recognition of my brother-in-law, Richard Beard.
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Another Man: Richard Beard, my brother-in-law

My sister, Tara (my elder sibling by 10 years), began dating Richard when I was pretty young. I honestly can’t remember a time when Richard wasn’t around. I was probably a bit of a nuisance to him in those early years. I remember spying on him and my sister when they were watching TV in our living room. You know, typical annoying little brother stuff.

Through the years, Richard has been a constant for our family. He and my sister had been married a little over a year when my Dad passed away. My mother once told me that toward the end of his illness, my father asked Richard to look after us in the event of his death. Richard was always a great son-in-law to my mother. I saw him treat her with incredible love and respect. Beyond that, Richard was always a role model for me. When I got my first pair of glasses in 5th grade, my only request was that they look like his. After Dad died, I was always eager for someone to throw ball with me. Mom would try, but she threw like a girl and I couldn’t throw the ball hard to her for fear I might hit her. Only when I threw ball with Richard could I really let it fly. I think I was an obstinate kid in a lot of ways, but I appreciate the hours Richard spent with me during those days immediately after my father’s death.

When my Mom passed away, I was a junior in high school. I still had a year and some change left in high school and I needed a place to stay. Enter Tara & Richard. Despite having a 3-year-old and a 3-month-old, they opened up their home to me, allowing me to move into the bonus room over their garage. Through my Senior year of high school and throughout college, I always had a place to come home to. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked Richard for opening up his home to me. Adding a 17-year-old male to the household had to blow the grocery budget completely out of the water. But no matter the circumstances, Richard has always been there to fulfill his promise to my father. For that, I’m eternally indebted.

Richard is still one of my role models. He and my sister have celebrated over 20 years of marriage together. Each of his three children are Christians. He dutifully serves as a deacon in his congregation. My glasses may look a little different these days, but I still look to pattern my life after yours, Richard. I thank God for your faithfulness, not only to Him, but also to us…and to me in particular. Thank you for loving our family and honoring my father. May your reward be great.

Posted in Another Man | 1 Comment

Another Man: William Bybee

Posted on June 16, 2009 by Jason

The next entry in my Another Man series was devoted to my paternal grandfather, William Bybee. I originally wrote about his influence here, but a year later Granddaddy passed away and I had the highest honor of my ministry career: I preached his funeral. The follow is a copy of the eulogy I prepared for him:

We gather here to remember the simple life of a good man. We are supported today by a faith stronger than death; we are sustained by the hope of a life that extends eternally beyond this place. We gather here to grieve; we gather here to celebrate; we gather here to remember.

William Burford Bybee was born on Oct. 3, 1913 in Jackson County, Tennessee. Over the course of his 93 years of life, the world changed quite a bit. He witnessed two World Wars, the Great Depression, the Civil Rights Movement, the Cold War, 9.11 and men walking on the moon. My grandfather lived a long life, a good life. And we remember the life of this humble man today.

My grandfather learned the value of hard work early in his life. After his father passed away when he was young, Burford and his brother Silas quit school and went to live with various relatives, farming and working odd jobs to help make ends meet. He spent some time in his early years logging and that’s where he developed a love for working with wood. He later worked as a hired hand on different farm properties. He happened to be working in a tobacco field one day when a pretty young lady caught his eye. These things have a way of happening this way; these two took a liking to one another and decided to get married. According to the story, they were working in the fields together one day and they decided to take off to the courthouse in downtown Hartsville to get married. Well, they got all the way down there only to find out the courthouse was closed. So they went back to the tobacco fields and decided to give it a shot the next day. On May 25, 1937, Burford married Miss Hilda Cornwell Hancock and for the next 56 years, they shared the joys of married life together.

Hilda was Burford’s pillar. She was truly the love of his life. Burford and Hilda had 2 children, 2 sons. James Alton was born June 24, 1941; Roger Dale came along on Aug 9, 1944. This was a strong family, a good family. As is the case with most families, the years brought some difficulties. Burford had to bury a son in 1987 when my father, Alton, died at the age of 46. A few years later, grief came calling again when Hilda became ill. My grandfather stood faithfully by her side until her death in 1994. The years after her death were hard ones. Burford grieved her until the day he died. But this family knew plenty of joy as well. At the time of his passing, my grandfather’s legacy consisted of 3 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren. In just a few days, the number of great-grandchildren will grow to 7. Granddaddy was certainly the patriarch of our family.

It would be safe to say my grandfather was a simple man. He came from a simpler time when people sought the simple pleasures of life. A front porch and a rocking chair. A lazy afternoon at the fishin’ hole. A warm bowl of beans and a slice of cornbread. Good neighbors. Hard work. Friends. Family. Church. God. These were the elements of my grandfather’s existence. The beauty of his life can be found in its simplicity.

My grandfather also lived with tremendous sincerity of spirit. I can honestly say I never heard my grandfather say an unkind word about anyone. Many of you have told me he was the most Christ-like person you’ve ever known. He was truly a model of authentic, genuine Christianity. The one thing I’ll always remember about my grandfather is the way he prayed. You could tell that prayer was a path he tread many times. I’ve said this before, but the best sermons I’ve ever heard were the prayers he led before our family meals. As a child, I remember thinking Granddaddy’s prayers weren’t like “church” prayers that went on and on with their big fancy words. His prayers were authentic and heartfelt and humble and simple, a microcosm of his life. Even today, I think of my grandfather’s sincerity every time I pray.

It is a comforting thought, indeed, to know that the goodbye we say today isn’t the final word. If we are people of faith, we know that we too will one day pass from this life to the next and we’ll be reunited on that far distant shore with our family and loved ones who have gone before us. And we know that we, too, will be in the presence of these loved ones and the Lord himself for all eternity.

I believe that my grandfather is in the presence of the Lord this day. His faith has become sight; he is in the presence of the One he worshipped and served, the One he prayed to and emulated. I believe my grandfather is also in the presence of his dear loved ones who preceded him in death. I believe he is finally reunited with the son he buried much too soon. And I believe he is reunited with his bride as well. My grandfather passed away on his 70th wedding anniversary. Roger told him that morning what day it was. And then he whispered in his ear, “Daddy, why don’t you go on home and be with your bride? She’ll be there, waiting on you.” Soon after that, Granddaddy took his last breath and passed on into eternity.

If Granddaddy were here today, I know what he would say. He’d tell us to “Be smart.” Those were the last words my grandfather would usually say to us as we were saying goodbye to him. His goodbyes were always sprinkled with “I love yous” and “Come see us again”, but “Be smart” was probably his favorite expression. What he meant by this was live as you were raised. Be the man we’ve taught you to be. I can’t count the number of times he told me to be a good boy. Listen to your Daddy and your Momma. Do right. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Remember who you are. Remember the Lord your God. It was a simple expression, that’s true. But don’t mistake simple for simplistic. For living by faith is never simplistic. I’ve learned over the years that it takes great courage to live like Granddaddy lived. “Being smart” is a lot tougher than it sounds. But as best I can tell, that makes Granddaddy just about the smartest man I ever knew. Because I’ve never known anyone who was more like Jesus. Be smart. These were always his parting words. It’s fitting, then, that these were the last words he spoke to Roger a few days before he passed away. Let them be his last words for us today as well. Be smart.

So today, we commit William Burford Bybee into the hands of his God. We lay to rest a kind and gentle man. A devoted husband. A loving father. A grandfather and a great-grandfather. The patriarch of our family. His legacy to us is a great one indeed. I am proud to be one of his grandchildren. I am proud to bear the name of this great man. I will teach his great-grandsons to be the kind of man he was. And although my heart hurts that he is no longer with us, I join the rest of our family in the hopeful expectation that we’ll all be reunited on that beautiful shore in the sweet by and by.

And we will remember him always.

Posted in Another Man, Granddaddy, Kids | 2 Comments

Another Man: Alan Shates

Posted on June 15, 2009 by Jason

With Father’s Day looming this week, my thoughts always turn toward my own father and the other men who have had a tremendous influence in my life. A few years ago, I came across a quote that stuck with me: “For a boy to become a man requires the presence of another man.” That got me thinking about all of the “other men” in my life and led to a series of posts entitled “Another Man”. Leading up to Father’s Day this year, I’m going to re-post that series this week, along with a few new entries as well.

Here’s the first entry I did in the “Another Man” series, a post dedicated to Alan Shates, my father-in-law:
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I met Alan Shates 15 years ago the summer before my Senior year of high school. Our initial introduction was completely random; my friend Lane and I were driving around and decided to stop by unannounced to visit this girl he used to date. Her dad came to the door, told us she wasn’t there (she was actually at work) and we said goodbye. I would have no way of realizing at that moment that this man would come to mean so much to me.

Alan and his wife, Stephanie, married young and had their children quite early. Consequently, Alan had to work extremely hard to provide for his family, a work ethic inherited by his daughter. When I first started coming around, I was a little intimidated by Alan. (I suppose every boy should feel that way about his girlfriend’s father.) It didn’t help that I drove a Honda Accord and Alan was an employee of the Ford Motor Co. But I knew I was “in” when I had to call him to borrow some cash to pay for dinner on a date with Sunny. (After the check came, I realized I’d forgotten my wallet!) He bailed me out with a chuckle and some kind words: “It happens to all of us, Jason.”

Sunny and her Dad on her wedding day

As the years passed, I developed tremendous respect for Alan. When I decided to propose to Sunny, I sought his approval first. I’m sure they knew what I wanted when I called and asked to come over. Said I needed to ask them something. We sat down in the living room and I stammered my way through my rehearsed speech. I told him I didn’t know how much money I’d make as a minister, but I promised that I would do whatever I had to do to take care of his daughter. But before I could finish, he again spoke words of grace: “I’m not worried about that, Jason. You love each other and the Lord will take care of you.”

I’ve learned much from Alan in the years since I married his daughter. He has a wealth of experience and I’m thankful that he is always willing to share that experience with me. My father-in-law is the “go to” guy for me now. From handyman questions to financial advice to parenting tips, he’s always the first one I call when I have a question. Our relationship was taken to a new level when Joshua and Abby Kate were born. I’ve said this before, but the 9 days Abby Kate spent in the NICU and the 31 days Joshua spent there were the worst days of my life. Again, Alan’s words brought me comfort during those trying days. One of those first few nights, as he and I sat with Joshua outside his little isolette in the NICU, I just broke down. “I’m really having a hard time with all of this,” I said. Alan tearfully encouraged me to be faithful to God, even in circumstances I couldn’t understand. “God’s gonna take care of this little guy,” he told me. He couldn’t have been more right.

Alan, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. But if you do, this is my way of thanking you for who you are in my life. Your influence helps me love your daughter and grandchildren better. You’re a good man and I thank you for helping me become the man I am today.

Posted in Another Man, Devotional, Kids | 2 Comments