Daddy always said this wouldn't be easy, but he said it with his eyes. Eloquence pours from his soul, filtering through the wisdom of profound silence. My daddy isn't a normal daddy by any standard. He is gentle only for lack of a harsh spirit. Doesn't abuse, doesn't praise. Proverbs say less words are better, so I wonder if it's the value of the mystery.
I climb the stairs to his study.
The mystery of life. Equipped with the knowledge and wisdom to fill books and ears of congregations, my daddy sits silently before his God. Churches fail, wars wage on, destruction spreads. Daddy watches and waits.
What is a wasted life?
Surely not the one that first chooses to seek the Lord. And yet,
To go forth in faith
To hold fast to the teachings, spreading the Good News
To trust and obey
That takes the strength of God.
My daddy is a weak man, limping with the thorn of humanity in his side, daily humbled by his powerful Father. His mind full of the knowledge of the grace and glory of our God.
I stand at the top of the stairs.
I see his books on theology, his Bible on the ready, the bookmarked sites of biblical scholars on his desktop.
But then I look at him and hear his heart speak.
"I feel it, too. This life isn't easy."
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