Lynn

My Father-In-Law, Lynn, was an amazing man who taught me much about faith in God. He underwent many challenges in his life, yet never questioned the love of his Savior. Many people have asked if he had been ill. He had been sick for quite some time. When my wife Chrissy was in high school in Crandall her father was in an industrial accident that left him with 3^rd degree burns over 90% of his body. He was taken to Parkland Hospital where he stayed for nearly a year. The doctors told the family that he would surely not survive such a trauma. They administered an experimental drug that helped his recovery but left him completely deaf. He developed a staph infection during this time as well that would plague him for the rest of his life. Although he was not given any chance of survival, he surprised everyone and eventually was able to live as a self sufficient man.

The first time I met Lynn I had recently begun dating his oldest daughter and I learned that I was going to have the chance to meet him. I really liked this girl and wanted to make a good impression. Chrissy had told me the story of his accident and subsequent hearing loss, so I did what any genius would do. I walked to him shook his hand and yelled, “HELLO MR. GUERNSEY, I’M CLINT STEPHENSON AND I’M DATING YOUR DAUGHTER!”

He looked at and said, “I’m deaf. I can’t hear you.” Thus beginning our relationship in which I’m sure he hoped his daughter would find someone with an ounce of brains. I'm not sure I ever fully recovered from that initial meeting

Several years ago Lynn was diagnosed with Parkinson ’s disease and with each visit we could see the effects of the disease on his body. Every January he would come and stay in our home with us for several weeks and with each visit we could see there was less and less of him. Yet he continued the practice I had seen him do each day on each visit. He would sit at our kitchen table for hours and study his bible. He never failed to attend church with us, and when he was at home although he couldn’t hear what was happening he knew that being in the company of other Christians and being in worship was vital for the believer. Someone teased me in the hallway that he was probably blessed that he never had to hear me preach.

Last year a great blessing occurred when Chrissy and two of her sisters were able to take him on a dream trip for them all to Ireland. The girls took turns pushing his wheelchair from castle to castle and site to site. Being with his daughters probably meant more to him than seeing the beautiful country. I know this will be a memory never forgotten or undervalued bythem.

Through all of his troubles I never once heard him complain.

At his funeral my daughter Caitlin sang a song, “This Is My Temporary Home.” I was about to preach the funeral message as I listened to her beautiful voice sing powerful words when I realized that this was the first time he ever got to hear his granddaughter sing. He was well. Although we’ll miss him as we said, “goodbye,” all of us knew that because of his faith in our amazing Lord, he went home, and by faith we’ll see him later. Maybe next time we meet I’ll remember not to yell.

So, thank you Lynn for allowing me to marry your daughter, my best friend. And thank you for teaching me more about faith than I’ll ever be able to teach in a lifetime.

Fear and Triumph

I learned years ago that fear can completely paralyze us. I learned it from a four foot ramp built for jumping bicycles. It seemed like it was the highest thing that you could possibly launch a two wheeled vehicle from into the great abyss of nothingness. I sat on the seat of my bike watching as my friends made jump after jump from that wooden monster feeling like I couldn't.

After being taunted by boy after boy I decided action was necessary. I aligned my flying bike in the right place, took a deep breath and started peddling toward the ramp. I still remember my heart pounding, my mind racing, my instincts taking over as I went up the ramp. Then I did the stupidest thing that you can do. I hit the brakes.

I skidded up the ramp until at the top the bike flipped off the end of that ridiculous wooden ramp and I landed on my face at the bottom. Boys can't cry in front of their friends no matter how much blood you spilled, how bad you hurt, or how embarrassed. So I went inside our home and sat on my bed leaving my bike and hurt feelings laying at the bottom of the ramp. It was that day that I learned how you stare down fear.

It was that particular event that taught me when you are afraid of something you can own it or it owns you. Those are the moments that make you or brake you. It was then I learned that when things scare you it's time to try it again, and do it better the second time. So I rode at the ramp and didn't hit the brakes, landed on the other side terrified but triumphant.

Years later I stood at the bottom of an old telephone pole on a ropes course feeling the same butterflies I felt when I was a child looking at the bike ramp. It wasn't pretty, graceful, or courageous looking as I made my ascent to the top of the pole, but the victory is in taking each step when you're scared to death. Ramps and used up old telephone poles don't get to beat us.

In life, the things that scare us deserve for us to stare them down and beat them, and when we land at the other end we're triumphant. Our Savior prayed in a garden that there was another way than the path that led him to the cross, and in the end, he owned our sin and shame on a wooden cross that could not conquer him. Thanks be to God that on the other side, because of His Son's courage, we end up triumphant.