I grew up in a party house. My parents didn’t need to frequent bars because we had our own. The basement boasted not only a full bar, but also a pool table, dart board, bowling machine, large television, antique beer can collection, antique beer light collection, and a Chicago Cubs emblem taller than my dad which he had painted on the wall. The roars and hoots over bad ump calls and good plays could be heard from my outside fort in the bushes. The sweet smell of cigars intermingled with a yeasty beer fragrance, lingering in the air long after the parties were over.
But Dad was a happy drunk. He and Mom loved their four kiddos and did the best they could with what they had at the time. They encouraged a strong work ethic, stressed the importance of a good education, and invested in music lessons for their children. Despite their efforts, by the time middle school hit, my older sister started hanging out with the ‘wrong crowd’. Even though Dad and Mom liked to party, they still had high standards and could recognize a negative influence from a mile away. They quickly learned the lesson that you can’t tell a strong-willed daughter, “No.” Strong-willed daughters don’t listen very well.
But our Lord has plans for us, plans for us to prosper, and to give us a hope and a future. He uses even the ugly to make us look more like Him. It’s just not always very pretty as we are making the trek to the promised land, munching on manna and falsely remembering how much fun it was being slaves in Egypt.
Dad noticed his decades-old friend Burke coming to tailgate cookouts and choosing not to drink beer anymore. Before he would eat, Burke would bow his head in front of all of his drinking buddies and silently pray. ‘I like the old Burke better!’ Dad thought, yet Dad still confided in Burke the great parenting challenges he and Mom were desperately struggling through.
Burke in turn shared with Dad how this pastor from Brookfield, Wisconsin had come down to preach at their new church in Illinois, Willow Creek. “This guy was an amazing preacher! My wife Angie and I are planning on coming up to Wisconsin some Sunday morning to hear him again. Do you want to join us?”
Dad soon realized this so-called ‘amazing preacher’ was the pastor at the annoying church 3 blocks from our party house. If we went somewhere on a Sunday morning, we all knew to take a different route to avoid the men in fluorescent vests with glowing batons conducting traffic like it was the Philharmonic.
“Yes! Let’s go to church with Burke and Angie, and then we can have them over to party after church!” Mom said.
That first Sunday at Elmbrook, Stuart Briscoe preached on tithing. Dad later commented, “It’s just like every other church. All they want is your money!” But Jesus used Stuart’s authentic magnetism to pull on Dad’s heart, causing Mom and Dad to return the following Sunday without the peer-pressure of their friends.
Dad wasn’t always sober on Sunday mornings when he first started attending Elmbrook. If he was sober, he was still hungover from the night before. People from the church reached out to Dad and asked him to be part of some kids’ activities, rolling a ball for them and playing sports’ games. He wasn’t teaching, but despite his imperfections, he was included as part of the church family. He felt warmly welcomed into this family of believers, even though he didn’t quite ‘walk the walk’ or ‘talk the talk’.
Dad started noticing other families in the neighborhood who were ‘doing life right’. Various believers reached out to him, gifting him with his very first Bible and lifting him up in prayer. No judgment, just sharing Jesus in love, answering his baby-seeker questions, and loving him just as he was.
Singing in the shower one day, Dad’s deep voice bellowed out, “Someone’s Comin’ to the Lord…” He didn’t realize at the time that he was singing about himself. The drinking stopped, cold turkey. The party room was dismantled. The beer cans and signs disappeared. Instead of parties, we had family devotions. ‘I like the old dad better!’ I remember my 14-year-old self thinking.
The Lord used my strong-willed sister’s rebellion to force Mom and Dad to their knees in a state of helpless anguish. When parenting with curfews and discipline, love and encouragement, and counseling and therapy did not work, they found help in the One who created their daughter. The power of prayer and trusting in His promises allowed them to never give up hope that my sister would one day turn her life around and be the amazing woman she is today. Thank you, Jesus!
Forty years later, I look back with eternal gratitude on the risk takers in Dad’s life. Burke and Angie drove 90 minutes to take Mom and Dad to a church that was literally in my backyard! The members at Elmbrook did not look at Dad and exclude him because he wasn’t holy enough, but they included him in simple ways until he was ready for solid food. Believers in the neighborhood shared Jesus with him, engaging in theological conversations until his heart was ready to receive Jesus as his Lord and Savior.
As my dad is living his 84th year as a man and his 40th year since being born again, I imagine his sprawling spiritual family tree. I don’t know who shared with Burke and Angie, but they shared with Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad shared with their 4 children, and their children’s spouses, and their grandchildren. Dad shares Jesus with every single waitress, and engages in spiritual conversations with just about every random stranger he meets. I don’t know how many thousands of seeds he has planted, but I picture a very large spiritual family tree as his legacy.
And is that not what we are all called to do? “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…” (Mathew 28:19) Sometimes we forget that those future disciples may be right in our own backyard! Start your own spiritual family tree today. Tell someone about the hope that is within you. Invite someone to church today.
Photo by lauren lulu taylor on Unsplash
Such an encouraging read! wonderful to see how God has been working to draw people to Himself.