Tuesday, November 6
Yes, my daddy's tombstone has only
these words: "it pays to serve Jesus".
as a little girl, hair pulled back in
a ponytail, i would say:
"daddy, why does Jesus pay? the
kids at school make fun of jan and
me. we're foreigners."
and my father would say,
"give God time."
"daddy," we'd say, a year later,
"no island boys like us. we are tall
and skinny and white and blue-eyed.
we are the minority and lonely."
"oh darling, sometimes it takes
years for God's true blessings and
rewards to begin being unveiled. "
many afternoons, after school, jan and
i would go next door to the church
altar. and weep and sing that old
chorus, "i know the Lord will make
a way for me...i know the Lord
will make a way for me.....if i live
a holy life. shun the wrong and do
the right, i know the Lord will make
a way for me."
my daddy had it down just right.
Jesus DOES pay. He kept me low
to one day raise me up. and in a way
that i would always remember it was
Him, and none of me.