Gadabout Grandpa for God

My mom’s dad was not her natural father, who died when she and her older brothers were still little. Grandma re-married and had another son, but that husband died as well. Finally she married Grandpa Birnie, who adopted all four children and treated them as his own.

Grandpa was born in Holland, but eventually migrated to America. He graduated from Stanford University and had a career at Goodyear. All this was behind him by the time I have any memories of him. What I remember is the blue and white VW van with removable seats, a knob on the steering wheel, and a tiny engine in back. He used it to do gardening work for a number of regular customers. He was a fine gardener, too, which was a good thing because Grandma was a great lover of plants and flowers. Their backyard in Long Beach was a veritable nursery of flora, full of all sorts of flowers, ground cover, bushes, shrubs and trees. Grandpa was always full of energy, fueled by the mountain of Wheaties he ate every morning, tan and strong even when advanced in years.

There are two characteristics of Grandpa Birnie that leave a deep impression on me: his love of his family and his energetic witness for the Gospel.

As a kid I think my image of him was that he was overly subservient. He could definitely be scatterbrained at times, and would be roundly scolded by Grandma for it. But looking back I realize he wasn’t a mere bower and scraper. He truly loved her, and all of us. As a result he was more than happy to serve. I think he would have done anything for her or any of us.

When we’d come to visit, almost once a year, especially in the latter years before he moved to Seattle, a trip to the beach, usually Hermosa Beach where our great aunt lived, was a regular feature. My brother and I loved to body surf. I can still see my grandfather standing stolidly on the shore anxiously watching as my brother and I, late grade-school age, waded out as far as we could – and then farther – in order to catch the best waves. I had no doubt then, and none now, that my senior citizen grandpa would have jumped in to rescue us if we got in trouble. If the current carried us too far north, he’d wave us back closer to the pier and where the rest of our family was. He cared about us deeply.

After Grandma Birnie died, and he eventually sold their house, Grandpa took to traveling. A lot. He visited family in Canada, Holland, France and Guatemala. He traveled other places as well, often by bus. He had the innate ability to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger at a bus stop and get to know him like an old friend. Eventually the conversation would wind its way toward the Gospel. Did the person know Jesus? Was Jesus his savior? Grandpa was eager to share the Good News with anyone and everyone.

How do I know this? He told me. I loved to hear him tell about his visits after he returned, especially if his trip included seeing his sister in France or his brother in Guatemala. Grandpa knew I was learning French in school, and would test me (he could speak Dutch, English, French and Spanish, to varying degrees). He showed me the French Bible he bought for his sister and let me try to read from it before he took it to her.

Grandpa Birnie loved Jesus and he loved his family. He dearly wanted his family to know Jesus, too. One year for either my birthday or for Christmas, I think (though with Grandpa this sort of gift could be just because), he gave me a copy of John Stott’s Basic Christianity. I remember reading it, and liking it, thankful for a man like my grandfather who cared enough to give it to me.

I’m not anywhere near as outgoing with others as Grandpa Birnie was. Like him I do love Jesus and my family dearly. I’m not as adept at sharing the Gospel with others but still, largely I think from his example, have a deep desire for others to know the Good News. I believe it’s a part of the reason planting a church is such a strong desire for me. Not only does a pastor get to preach and teach about the wonderful salvation offered in Jesus Christ, but a church plant is the kind of environment where – hopefully – opportunities to share the Gospel with others will be more plentiful than they typically are in a more established church.

Grandpa Birnie may not have been my “natural” grandfather, but he was my grandpa. I’m so very glad he was.