Devotionals

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"For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they should make them known to their children, that the generation to come might know them, even the children which should be born, who then should arise and declare them to their children, that they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments:"
--Psalm 78:5-7


My brother, sister and I bid our father his final goodbye last month. Both Mom and Dad's health have been waning for some time, and Dad's was probably worse than anyone knew. That was Dad, though. His chief concern was to care for our mother, his wife of fifty-two years, his Baby Doll.

During the months of deteriorating health, many of my friends warned me to beware of the infighting that was sure to come after his demise. In spite of my assurances that such things wouldn't happen, they insisted that close sibling ties could degenerate in an instant, once thoughts turned from parenthood to inheritance.

They needn't have bothered. Our memories were of a man who counted integrity a more praiseworthy goal than worldly success, of parents who taught us that little things given in love were far more valuable than treasures heaped on without thought.

We did gather a lot of things, but the task was a necessary one. Mom and Dad put their house on the market the month before, and were planning to move into an assisted living complex. Mom had to continue with those plans, since she can't live alone any more. That necessitated downsizing.

Each of us gravitated toward our own treasures, the things that brought personal memories to us. Mark took Dad's Cleveland Browns memorabilia. There's a dime store pennant, an emblem with a Browns helmet, a personal letter to Dad from the 1960's quarterback, Frank Ryan. None of it has any value to anyone else. But Mark learned to enjoy football when he was in grade school, and spent many delightful Sunday afternoons with Dad cheering their Browns.

Allison asked for Dad's wedding band. She's not concerned about the gold. She remembers sitting on Dad's lap when she was a kid and twirling the ring on his finger. "Did you ever take it off?" she would ask.

He never did. That was something sacred to Dad. His marriage to Mom was a lifetime affair, and the ring stayed on the finger as a memento of his vow to her.

I found Dad's Bible. Looking through it, I found the marks that made Dad the man he was. He loved the word, but wasn't beyond a polemical streak. The book of Revelation, his favorite, was marked heavily, along with cross references in Daniel. And there were the quirks. Matthew 12:40 was underlined in heavy black, because Dad insisted that Jesus, like Jonah in the fish, was in the tomb three FULL days and nights, putting his crucifixion on Wednesday, not Friday.

These are the things that personified Dad in our minds. We have similar memories of Mom. They're far more important to us than a bit of leftover material wealth. Their legacy is a house that love built.

Mark observed that Dad took a lot of dark memories to the grave with him. We know little about his childhood, other than the fact that he grew up in a children's home. We also know that he and Mom had the foresight to begin going to church shortly before I was born. The Lord used that early influence in their marriage to bring them both to a true knowledge of Christ, and they became a first generation in a sense.

As Asaph taught in the psalm quoted above, they were faithful to the testimony God established in them. We, in turn, have had the duty and opportunity to implant that testimony in our children's hearts. Now that they are entering into marriage and getting ready to raise families of their own, they have it upon themselves to take up the mantle. This is the moral lesson at the bottom of Psalm 78.

This psalm is a commentary on the importance of faithfulness, and Asaph means to carry it out even if he has to bring up the skeletons in Israel's closet. He introduces the psalm, "I will open my mouth in a parable. I will utter dark sayings of old, which we have heard and known, and our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, showing to the generation to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and his wonderful works that he hath done" (Psalm 78:2-4).

"I will utter dark sayings of old..." "We will not hide them from their children..." Those are pretty grave words to introduce a song that would be registered in Israel's national hymnal. But the lessons are important, and it is imperative that even the children learn them early. The psalm is a long one--seventy-two verses--and tells the early history of Israel's unfaithfulness to their God. It has a purpose for this, however. Asaph knew that the better the people understood their national history, the less likely they were to make their fathers' mistakes.

Asaph's mention of three generations, with the third still unborn, implies perpetuity. Like the family our parents raised, it's a multi-generational job.

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