I can't remember if my 5 siblings also received bibles at some point in their young years. I suppose they probably did, but I've managed to imagine this as some unique aspect of my relationship with my father. He was not an especially faithful man, if by 'faithful' you mean going to church every Sunday and saying prayers every night. But I don't think he ever lost that memory of his upbringing of church twice on Sunday and on Wednesday night, to boot. He could still belt out old Gospel hymns when I'd sit at the piano to play, and he knew every word of every stanza.
His father, my grandfather, died just 20 days before I was born, but I feel a special connection with him, too. Several years ago, my Uncle Jack (dad's brother) put together a collection of sermons from a 3-ring binder Grandaddy kept that he labelled "My Best." Forty-three of these 'best' sermons were edited from his abysmal hand-typed manuscripts and bound into a beautiful black volume that was presented to each of the grandchildren. It is a book that I treasure.
Grandaddy was a scripture-based preacher but he was not what I'd call a fundamentalist. He preached against the Scopes trial in 1925 and condemned the 'heinous act' of the lynching of a black man in Sherman, Texas in 1930. His was a prophetic voice of which I am vicariously very proud! I'll never forget my first time in a pulpit and - I know this sounds cracked - felt as if his mantle were laid upon my shoulders like Elijah and Elisha. I told you it sounds cracked. All the same, that's how it felt and it was a humbling, transcendent moment for me.
I don't recall my dad talking much about his childhood. Maybe he got tired of talking about it by the time I came along as the youngest of 6! But there is a story about him in one of Granddaddy's sermons that I love. The text is from 1 Samuel 30:6 - David strengthened himself in the Lord his God and is a portion of the story of David's exile among the Philistines when Saul was threatening to kill him. He writes:
We were blessed with four children in our home, two girls and two boys. When the youngest one, a boy (my dad, Leland), was eight years old, the back yard was full of boys at their games. Of course they were making a lot of noise, as boys should do. But all of a sudden, there was a calm. Mrs. Ellis (my grandmother) suspected that something had gone wrong and she went immediately to investigate. When she arrived upon the scene she saw her baby boy standing in a belligerent attitude with a rock in his hand and one of his little playmates was making a hurried exit out the back gate. She soon calmed the storm and they were back at their games again as though nothing had happened. She said nothing to Leland at the time, but that night before she put him to bed she had a little heart-to-heart with him. She explained that she was so happy for him to have his friends over and play in the yard or in the house. It was just what she wanted him to do. But she suggested that he did not want to be losing his temper and throwing rocks at his little friends. She said that would hurt her and his father and said, "Do you think that will please the Lord?" He said, "Well, if one of these boys hits me, the Lord is not going to find me standing there doing nothing." So the Lord did not find David standing around there long, doing nothing.
Isn't that great? He refers to my dad as my grandmother's "baby boy" and uses this illustration to enflesh the story of David before he was king, fighting for his life. I wonder how Daddy felt hearing this story told about himself from the pulpit? I can just see him feeling the need to protect himself, not taking abuse from other kids, and I'd be very surprised if he had apologized. We youngest children have to learn how to take care of ourselves!
So does any of this have anything at all to do with my great love of scripture? I like to think that it's part of a common thread that runs through my spiritual genetic code. There was a time when I would not have believed that, having grown up in an Episcopal Church that did not see much need in emphasizing scripture in the formation of children. It was actually when I went to the Presbyterian Church as an organist and choirmaster in my 30s that I realized what a biblical illiterate I was, and I had a lot of catching up to do! I have been a student of the scriptures ever since, having fallen in love with the great story of God's love for his people which we Christian's believe was brought to fulfillment in Jesus the Christ. I hope to preach that word as faithfully as my grandfather did for so many years.
The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. (Isaiah 40:8)
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