zeal

7 years ago he passed away. My Papa.

I don't talk about my grandfather much...perhaps because of shame I feel over one of our last real conversations. Papa was trying to share his faith with me. I viewed his sincerity as weakness and his zeal as judgmental. And I rudely dismissed and ridiculed him.

I thought he spoke in arrogance...assuming his beliefs were the only right way. How dare he think that I wouldn't go to heaven? I was, afterall, a "good person" while he was the one being elitist and narrow-minded.

Months passed and in the wee hours of a midwest summer morning in 2000, Papa stood in my driveway and waved as I buckled into a Uhaul and headed west. It was one of the last times I would see him. My final memory of him was, during a visit back to IL, holding his leathered hand in mine as we sat at his kitchen table. Too weak to speak, he only nodded periodically as I made conversation.

Papa passed away shortly after I returned to CA, and I was unable to fly back home for the memorial services. Devastated, on the day of the funeral I sat on a deflating air mattress in my studio apartment and tried to "be present" with my grieving family. In a silence broken only by my sobs I imagined seeing Papa in his casket, laughing at stories told in his honor, and clinging tightly to those who shared my memories of him.

Little did I know that God would use the emptiness and sadness I was feeling to draw me to Himself. And that He would repeatedly bring to my mind the words my grandpa spoke that day as he shared his faith with me.

Now that I am a Christian I know that my grandfather wasn't sharing his faith in judgment but in humility. He was speaking from a heart humbled by the realization of being a sinner in need of a Savior. He wasn't trying to beat me down but to give me hope. And while I know if he were still alive we would debate doctrine til the sun went down, I truly believe that we would agree on the essential: Jesus Christ is our Redeemer, our Rescuer, our Hope, and our Lord.

The purpose of this long-winded, nostalgic post? I honestly don't know. But the other day my mom called me a "zealot" in terms of my faith (I'm sure she meant it in the most loving way!)...and it made me think about my Papa and his zeal on that night so long ago.

A "zealot" she called me...and rightfully so, I suppose. But so often the zeal of a Christian can be mistaken for condemnation and judgment and narrow-mindedness when, in reality, it is simply a response to the undeserved forgiveness, the endless mercy, and the incomprehensible grace that is daily lavished on a child of God. A truth I believe my Papa understood.