The Blessing of Parents
The other day I was sitting in the living room when I got a phone call. I answered it, had a short conversation and then hung up. My roommate looked at me and asked me who it was. "My dad," I replied. His smile twisted a little, and then he remarked that it sounded more like I was just talking to a good friend, not my dad. "I was talking to a good friend, though," I told him.
God has been merciful. God has been even more gracious. It wasn't that long ago that I can remember it being hard to call my parents once every two weeks, or drive home to see them once every few months; but it was my Christian duty, right? Whatever! I remember even before that, never confiding anything in my parents, always avoiding them except for when it seemed respectable to be with them.
I remember later in college, finally growing "theologically" as a Christian and the annoying, arrogant attitude I would always cop with my parents because of it. At first the Arminianism gave me a self-righteous concern for my parents. Then the Calvinism of course gave me an intellectual elitism towards my parents (the kind that makes you proud of not being proud); but at least I saw them as Christians again.
Everything has now begun to finally settle and is beginning to find its proper place. Praise the LORD for sanctification, I just wish it wasn't such a painful process. The last year of my life has had its events, its trials, its successes . . . and it has definitely been one of the greater adventures I have embarked on yet. Through all of it, my parents have never left my side. When they could see a fall coming, they warned me; and when I fell anyway, they helped me back up, and laughed with me about it when I was ready to. When I was blockheaded, they were patient. When I was cruel, they were kind. When those I counted on deserted me, they rescued me. When I was willing to give up, to quit trusting, they encouraged me to continue, to persevere. When I fail to be faithful in honoring them, they loved me all the more anyway. In the last year of my life, no one has revealed the sacrifices, the love, and the work of Christ to me more than my parents.
I am no longer in school, I have finally moved to a new town, begun a career, and started my life so to speak; but I also talk to my parents once, twice, sometimes three times a week now, and I usually have the blessing of seeing them two or three times a month now, too. God is good. Thank you Mom and Dad, I love you!
God has been merciful. God has been even more gracious. It wasn't that long ago that I can remember it being hard to call my parents once every two weeks, or drive home to see them once every few months; but it was my Christian duty, right? Whatever! I remember even before that, never confiding anything in my parents, always avoiding them except for when it seemed respectable to be with them.
I remember later in college, finally growing "theologically" as a Christian and the annoying, arrogant attitude I would always cop with my parents because of it. At first the Arminianism gave me a self-righteous concern for my parents. Then the Calvinism of course gave me an intellectual elitism towards my parents (the kind that makes you proud of not being proud); but at least I saw them as Christians again.
Everything has now begun to finally settle and is beginning to find its proper place. Praise the LORD for sanctification, I just wish it wasn't such a painful process. The last year of my life has had its events, its trials, its successes . . . and it has definitely been one of the greater adventures I have embarked on yet. Through all of it, my parents have never left my side. When they could see a fall coming, they warned me; and when I fell anyway, they helped me back up, and laughed with me about it when I was ready to. When I was blockheaded, they were patient. When I was cruel, they were kind. When those I counted on deserted me, they rescued me. When I was willing to give up, to quit trusting, they encouraged me to continue, to persevere. When I fail to be faithful in honoring them, they loved me all the more anyway. In the last year of my life, no one has revealed the sacrifices, the love, and the work of Christ to me more than my parents.
I am no longer in school, I have finally moved to a new town, begun a career, and started my life so to speak; but I also talk to my parents once, twice, sometimes three times a week now, and I usually have the blessing of seeing them two or three times a month now, too. God is good. Thank you Mom and Dad, I love you!
posted by Brian | 10:31 PM
1 Comments:
Good post, Brian. I remember the moment of realization for me when my parents made the shift of being "just parents" to "good friends". My phone calls home are also more frequent now then ever. Thanks for the heartfelt words and the reminder of what a blessing our parents can be.
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