We are coming upon Fathers Day and I am reminded of my dad.
He grew up in the hills of Eastern Kentucky which is where he met his high school sweetheart and married her, my mom.
My father would say he did not have very much when he was growing up. Most of us would call it dirt poor. Like peanut butter and graham cracker for lunch all the time poor. He was raised not by his mother–she had left and moved away–but by his aunt. We called her Granny.
My father was a hard worker and he loved to read books. The story is that my mother’s family had an encyclopedia set and my dad would go visit just to read the whole set. By the way, they didn’t have google then.
Fast forward a few years and my parents were married and my Father was a construction worker–an electrician. Around the age of 30, my father felt the call to be a pastor. It was at this little white church, a farmhouse actually. This is where I grew up.
I always remember my dad being a preacher and an electrician. Interesting combo, right? My dad had his hard hat and his tools, but on Sundays and Wednesday evenings, he wore a suit and tie. At the construction sites, they called my dad the singing electrician. He was always singing or humming or whistling.
Even though my father was always busy, he always made time for me and my brothers. Whether it meant going to our football games or playing basketball in the front driveway. He would discipline us when we needed, of course, but he was always there to help us and give advice.
The little church where my dad was a preacher was where the Lord called my dad to be. We were happy if we had 100 people. Usually it was just 50. It didn’t seem to matter to my dad. He would have liked for the church to grow in number but only because it meant that more people had a relationship with God. My father was content with where God had him.
When my father died, I am not sure how many people were there, but it was many. In fact the whole funeral was packed. There were a mixture of people from our church, other churches, and also construction workers. Many people were crying, even the construction workers. It was amazing to see how God used my dad to impact so many lives. This little boy from the hills of Eastern Kentucky who came from nothing.
No matter where you come from or what your story is, God can use you. You might be fisherman, a tax collector or even an Eastern Kentucky electrician.
You just have to be willing to follow His leading.
2 thoughts on “Anyone?”
Your memories brought tears to my eyes. Your dad was always proud of you and loved that you were serving the Lord. To God be the glory.
Thanks Pastor Matt. Your memories brought back memories of my dad and our upbringing. My dad was a farmer, dirt poor for sure, but what a Christian example he was to us. Always in church and willing to serve as needed. That was worth more than all the money one could pile up.