Old book - "Technical Manual for Life and Ministry"

It's such a strange feeling to sit at grampa's desk. Staring at his ordination certificate, thoughts begin to flow... what it was like in his day of life and ministry? I know that he cared a lot for people. He was known by the folks in his church as a man who cared. He never wrote any books, at least not that I know of...none that we can take down off a shelf and read. I feel so cheated that I cannot hold his thoughts in my hands like the pages of a book.

Of course it is true that he wrote his books one page at a time each day of his life. There were volumes of them. But these books were made not of paper and ink but sweat and tears. Cuts and bruises. Each page being written by every act of love. Every act of sacrifice. All those hours in the garden. That garden was his way of providing for his family, and helping folks in need. Back breaking hours. Wrestling with the Gravely cultivator. The grease and dirt involved in just getting the beast to start the first time each Spring. That deserves a chapter all its own.

I must have read that chapter many times over, as I can remember the lessons I learned as I lay under a car in the student parking lot. It was dead of winter in Scranton PA. 1979. A impoverished seminary couple - shivering in their cold bare apartment - peering through the fogged up window, waiting for a prognosis from their young mechanic friend. This freshman, melting snow dripping in his face - was lying there wondering how in the world he could fix this car and not add to the couple's financial burdens. His mind flashes back to his grandfather. His dirty arms grappling around the engine of an old car that belonged to some poor chap we found stranded along the road. If grampa can do it, then well, so can I. That chapter on determination helped me ignore the frost bitten fingertips and work some MacGyver-like miracle - that would hold until the couple could get home for spring break.

This is the same frost-bitten and dirty determination that I learned from my dad. And he did it for the same reasons as my grandfather. Out of love and respect for hurting people.

Some might think it is a book that is out of print. Or at least very hard to find. But it was written, mind you. If you have a family history - (or ministry legacy, rather) as I do, you have an entire library at your disposal.

Thanks grampa (and dad) for all the great volumes of life that you have written for me to read and hold in my heart!