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Fathers

Dear Friends,


A friend of mine was telling me about his father. He said that, when he was a teenager, they could bump heads like a couple of mountain goats. They seldom agreed on anything and frequently found ways to get under each other’s skin. He remembers in general the way they would fight sometimes, although he doesn’t remember what the specific issues were.

 

 

What he does remember, as if it were yesterday, is the day he was playing a junior varsity basketball game when he was in the ninth grade. The JV never played at prime times, which meant the games were poorly attended. That particular day it was at 3:30 in the afternoon. No one was there. As he remembers it there was not one person in the stands. Just the two teams on their respective benches, the referees, a few folks to work the game clock and keep score – he thinks one of them was a teacher who was reluctantly pulled out of her classroom while grading papers.

 

The game was about to start. My friend was jumping center. (He’s only a little taller than me, but he claims that back in the day he could really jump.) The ref was about to throw the ball in the air to start the game. He blew the whistle and crouched down. Just then, the silence in the gym was broken by the sound of a creaking door. It was a back, little-used entrance and one of those old, large, partly rusting metal doors that had not been opened in a while. It was so startling that everyone paused to see who was there.


And, of course, when the door creaked open wide enough for the person to walk through, everyone could see that it was my friend’s father. He was in a suit, which meant he came straight from work. He probably had to juggle appointments with clients. My friend didn’t even realize he knew they were playing that afternoon. But his father headed to the bleachers and sat down and the game began.


It’s been nearly 50 years, he says, and he can’t remember whether they won or lost, or even who they played. The only thing he remembers is that his father was there.


I hope to see you in worship this Father’s Day weekend.

 

Grace and Hope to you,
Pastor Duane