They have planted the wind and will harvest the whirlwind.
(Hosea 8:7NLT)
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It was the largest crowd I'd ever sang in front of. But I hardly noticed the crowd, I noticed the people. I'm not sure exactly how many people Bethel can hold, but the church was packed, and it was Friday afternoon so for every person there, another wished they could but was not able to get off work. For example, in the balcony to my right there was about 50-60 Vietnamese. They alone, if fully represented could have filled the entire balcony and then some.
It was the largest crowd I will probably ever sing in front of. But I was not singing alone. Marc and Dan and Will and Mark were singing with me. And a couple of them looked to be having as difficult a time at staying focused as I was. It seemed that with every other line I had to wipe my blurring eyes. But when they were clear I noticed more people sitting here or there. With each one I noticed, I would remember another planting, another time, another event. I would remember how he had invested into their lives.
Somewhere early in the third verse I felt the heavy arm of my much taller cousin drape across my shoulder. At that point my voice became so choked up I couldn't continue. I didn't continue until we got back to the chorus. One more verse to go. I don't know how I managed to get through to the end. But I did. It was the largest crowd I'd ever sang in front of. And it was the last time I ever sang in front of a crowd.
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She was always trying to sneak us money. The time or the reason didn't really matter much, as long as she could slip us a five, or a twenty, or whatever it was she pulled out of her purse she was happy. It obviously goes without saying that we were happy too. It's a grandma's job to spoil her grandkids and grandma Ruth was good at it. Very good.
As she snuck me the twenty she whispered in my ear, this is for your good studies. The guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. You see, at the time I knew for a fact that I was failing miserably in at least two classes and would not have been surprised if it weren't also true for at least two or three more. It was closing in on the end of my sophomore year and I'd been grounded almost nonstop the entire school year because my grades were so poor.
As I tried to give her the twenty dollar bill back I said, "Grandma, I can't take this. I'm not doing very good at school." That partial truth deserved a nomination as the understatement of the year. But she would have none of it. She simply winked at me and said, "Well, you'll have to start doing good then, won't you."
I did. I believe that was the best twenty dollars anyone ever spent on me. Two years later I was graduating regents with honors and had moved up to the top twenty students in a graduating class of nearly three hundred. Far more important than that, with that wink and a handoff my grandma planted in me a love of learning that has been growing ever since.
When she was living in a nursing home the summer of 2000 I went and lived for a few weeks at her old house. Going through some old stuff (grandma was a packrat), I came across a few different small little notebooks. On each line of every page there would be one person's name and sometimes a prayer request or situation. I tried to fit some of these well worn notebooks chronologically based on who was listed and some of the things written. As I was doing school I noticed my name on one of them. It simply said, "Brian - school". The planted prayers of a grandmother can harvest a mighty strong whirlwind.
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Today they had crossed a line. My roommate was engaged to be married and his future mother in law had called to speak with his fiancé. I told her that Jen wasn't in but I'd let her know that her mom called when I saw her. Jen's mom asked if and how I knew who she was and I said I knew because she did call over a lot. She said, "Oh, OK, well have a good day." And then she got off the line.
I don't think I was rude. I certainly didn't mean to be and had no reason to expect I was taken that way but perhaps I should have. Actually, let me back up a bit. Jen's father didn't, at this time want her marrying my cousin. She was daddy's little girl and he didn't think anybody would ever be good enough for her. Certainly not Donnie.
About two minutes after the last phone call he was calling me back. I had barely finished saying hello before I was moving the phone a bit away from my ear. Apparently he was under the understanding that I had told his wife that she was calling the apartment too often. While quite confused I tried simultaneously to clarify and diffuse the situation. While I was gradually accomplishing the first, the later was evidently a hopeless task.
Finally I cut in and said, "Sir, again I apologize for any offense you feel I caused [I was too proud to admit I might have truly done something wrong], and I promise to let Jen know you called as soon as they get here. Goodbye." To that he responded, "Well, you're just one more reason why my daughter has no business marrying Donnie."
That did it. Up to this point I feel I'd done quite well in keeping my voice down. It just made my next line all the more effective. "NOW YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!" I screamed into the mouthpiece. "If you have a problem with Jen that's fine. She's your daughter and it's between you and her. If you have a problem with Don that's fine. He's your son-in-law and it's between you and him. But you are nothing to me. This lease is in my name and the phone bill is in my name so I am the one to tell you that you are never, ever to call here again. Do you understand me?" And then I hung up.
I'd given up on the man. But Donnie never did. He was so soft hearted there was not a confrontational bone in his body. Therefore he took far more abuse from the man than I ever could have. He took it and kept on loving. He rolled with it and kept on finding a way to win his father in law over. He did. His planting, his investments of love paid off in ways I could never have imagined.
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I was sitting on the far side of the pond after a few hours of crying and shouting and yelling at God. How could he have taken my father from me? Slumped down, exhausted, I began letting my mind wander back to that day, a few weeks earlier when I was before so many people at Bethel. After singing "Knowing You" the five of us up on the platform cried and hugged and then I took the microphone. As I shared a bit of my father's heart I turned to the many pastors there and said, "My dad never preached before a Sunday morning congregation of a hundred. Sometimes he felt so frustrated and was wondering if he really was effective. But look around. Look at all the lives here that he has touched. For every face I can see there are more I know that wished they could be here. His ministry went so far beyond the four walls of our little church. Your ministry goes so far beyond the walls of your church..."
As I sat there at the pond it dawned on me. Yes, all those people are a part of the harvest. Those three people who gave their hearts to God at the funeral alone, in my dad's eyes, would have been worth his life. But far more, he is now receiving a far greater reward. Knowing You was my dad's life song. It was his heart. It was his goal. And now he had accomplished it.
My dad, my grandma, and my cousin. Each, in their own way, planted deeply into my life as well as in the lives of so many others. Sometimes it seemed as if they were sowing into the wind. They were. And now they have all reaped the whirlwind. I'm jealous. I want to be where they are. But it's not my time yet. So I will keep sowing.
First of all, I'm sorry for the way my dad acted...I have a very hard time forgiving him for the way he treated Donnie. I hope someday I can, but its so very hard. And you're right, Donnie was good at showing love and offering forgiveness. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you remember him...sometimes, especially recently, I feel like I'm the only one that remembers him. No one ever talks about him and its brings just a little bit of joy to my aching soul to see his name...to see you writing about him...to see you remembering him. I sometimes wonder what he ever saw in me, why he decided I was the right one for him to marry. I worry that I was never really good enough for him. But beyond that, even if I wasn't, he still had an enormous impact in my life. He is my first true love and he saw beyond the pain and hurt I had and he loved me. All he ever wanted to be for me was Christ is to the church and he did it so well. I am a different woman today because of him and I hate that he's gone, even if I didn't deserve him. I really wonder if I deserved to be his wife... I just pray and hope that God is blessing him for the work he did while he was here for such a short time. For all the heartache he dealt with on this earth...physical, emotional, and relational...his humbleness and graciousness towards others deserves to be rewarded and remembered. Thank you BJ.
He loved you Jen. Oh boy, how he loved you. Remember the day he had that elaborate plan to take you to the park (and everything that went with it)? I didn't think it was possible for him to be bouncing off the walls with excitement.
OK you two, i am going to say the same thing my best friend said to me when i was getting moody after my father died. tell me about him. help me know him the way you knew him. what keeps his memory alive in you? how did he leave you better than when he got there? if you ever need to talk i am all ears.
Bravo! This is beautifully written. Captivating. You should think about writing a book of stories. Real people's stories. I love those kinds of books. I'd rather read about a real person's experience than advice on how to be a good christian. You really did justice to your cousin, g-ma and dad. That's pretty awesome. You've lost a lot in your life and yet through those losses, you've won so much! I hope you can see that! Of course, after reading what you've written here, I'm sure you already do!Keep it up!
Normally when someone writes a blog that long, I just skim through it, but I read the entire thing this time. I guess because there's so much I can relate to.
My husband's grandmother was a wonderful lady. Always slipping my husband $20's even though he was well into his own career by then. She died suddenly, but peacefully. I never knew much extended family and she was like the grandmother I always wanted. I have her bible on my bookshelf.
My in-laws are rude and feel like I'm only here to take their 'little boy' away from them. So no matter how polite and cordial I am to them it makes no difference. If my relationship with them is a seed I've planted, then well, I haven't been watering it! The harvest will be poor. Maybe I can move far away from them?
And then two months before my wedding my father died of a heart attack. I can't forgive my MIL for the scene she made. And I guess that's that.
Ironic that you write this when just last week I sat up late one night watching Daddy's funeral.. I played the part a few times where you boys were singing that song. The camera was scanning the crowd of different people - people I didn't even know were there. People that I haven't seen now in years. A lifetime ago that sometimes seems like only yesterday. When a part of you dies... I guess the "going on" is never the same. But I know Daddy would be proud of where you are today and for those you minister to even in these blogs. You have a legacy Brian James. You better be keeping these collections all together because before I go... I want to see them in a book, bound and dedicated to those who have been so faithful in giving you a Godly heritage - something that pulls you back... time and time again. I love you.
I just pray and hope that God is blessing him for the work he did while he was here for such a short time. For all the heartache he dealt with on this earth...physical, emotional, and relational...his humbleness and graciousness towards others deserves to be rewarded and remembered. Thank you BJ.
