Finding Momentum

Over the din­ner table the other day, my par­ents and I were talk­ing about my grandpa, and how he’s pretty much the jol­liest guy you’d ever meet.

He wasn’t always that way. When my dad was young, my grandpa was still in the Tai­wanese mil­i­tary and found him­self away for nearly a year at a time. My dad recalled that when his dad came home, he had a tem­per and wasn’t pleas­ant to be around at all.

But things changed. My grandpa found Jesus. Time passed; there are sto­ries in between the years that I have not been privy to.

I’d remem­ber vis­it­ing him in Tai­wan and see­ing how he’d light up the room with his per­pet­ual smile and a chuckle that was reserved just for you and him. He’s gone with his church to China, him­self the old­est mem­ber of the group by a long shot. My mom and dad chuckle about how he’s been fea­tured in a church newsletter–again–for being such a happy character. I could see him daz­zling folks with his sto­ries, a kind word, a wise word.

It’s been about six years since my grandma passed. She was his anchor, a kind-hearted woman with prayer and a soft smile always on her lips. When she passed, I feared for my grandpa, for I didn’t know if he could go on much longer. Yet he has, with a vis­i­ble strength and an obvi­ous joy. And I think he has years of life left in him to live with vigor, com­pas­sion, and joy.

May I know that sort of joy–the Joy of the Gospel trea­sure–that allows us to see the hope of Christ in the midst of dif­fi­cult times. The joy that allows us to love freely and demon­strate grace. The joy that has been passed down, gen­er­a­tion by gen­er­a­tion, to me, to be known and to be lived.