The older I get, the more I've reflected on my spiritual upbringing and the people who have shaped my story. In the last few years especially, I have been moved by my grandparents' faith. Their lives are deeply marked by humility, hospitality, generosity, and prayer. I wrote this to honor them.
Lately, I find, my heroes aren't the world changers
I was told to pay attention to
early in my youth. Instead, the
ones I admire live an abiding,
ordinary faithfulnes.
This isn't the loud gong of
giftedness or talent, not the
"look at me" ministry of
effectiveness for the kingdom,
or podium truth telling that has
no love for the neighbor next door.
It's the quiet faith of those who have been awake in the world for a bit longer,
who planted their feet in a place and chose to love
it for the long haul.
They still stand and greet those
who come weary through the
church doors each week, reminding
them of their welcome in Jesus.
He is their dearest friend
and deepest hope.
They freely give their
money away to anyone who
asks, not for one second
troubling themselves
with whether or not that
person is worthy.
(Besides, they'd say, it's not theirs
to hold onto anyway)
They pray like it's breathing—
Prayer is their lifeline.
They pray, and their prayers are powerful
and effective.
They've seen miracles!
...and they've weathered
disappointments, believing
still that their God is good.
And he is good. He has blessed
their ordinary faithfulness,
He has held them close.
I want a faith like these dear
people who have prayed for
me my whole life. I want to pray
like it's breathing. I want to see
miracles! I want to hold on for
dear life— abiding in the ordinary.
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