I knew the day was coming. As Josh left for the mission field in 1999 (Botswana for 2 years through the International Mission Board), he warned me: “Dad, you better get started on your doctorate. I’m going to be pushing hard to get my masters and my doctorate as soon as I get back from Africa.” Challenged by our youngest twin, I did indeed “get after it” and earned my doctorate in 2001.

Today was Josh’s day. My heart soared with fatherly pride as I watched our son stride across the stage at Leavell Chapel to receive his diploma. (I also was blessed to be a “platform guest” and led the invocation at the graduation ceremony. This enabled me the unusual benefit of walking a few steps to stand next to Josh as the “doctoral hood” was lowered over his head and upon his shoulders . . . and to give him a quick hug.)

It’s a privilege to be Josh’s dad every single day. Today, was no different . . . but it also was an incredible moment I will never forget.

And now amidst the Daffern family we have two earned doctorates. This means that Josh and I are truly “a family ‘paradox”

The presentation took me back in time to 17th century Amsterdam, where Rembrandt lived and painted. It also took me back to the first century Holy Land, as the various scenes from Jesus’ life were depicted in etchings, drawings, and paintings. The artwork, borrowed from museums throughout the U.S. and the world (including the Louvre), was absolutely incredible.

I’ve seen a lot of pictures of Jesus in my life that showed Jesus as a blue-eyed blond. Thus, I was pleased to learn that Rembrandt was a pioneer in depicting Jesus with Jewish facial features and coloring. The exhibition of 64 works includes approximately 52 small, intimate paintings, prints and drawings by Rembrandt and his students that illustrate how Rembrandt broke from traditional 17th-century representations of Jesus.

The piece that impacted me the most was the oil painting entitled The Visitation. It depicts the moment that a pregnant Mary arrived to visit her pregnant cousin Elizabeth, and the baby “leaped for joy” in Elizabeth’s womb (Luke 1:39-45). As I gazed at the painting, I was transported back it time.

What an awesome experience!

Lynne and I recently returned from a four-day vacation in which we began our personal exploration of our new home state. Here are a few highlights . . .

• Flashbacks to a simpler time with a more easy-going pace on Mackinac Island;
• The awesome experience in dipping my hand in the waters of three of the Great Lakes;
• The gentle lapping of the waves stilling my soul;
• The natural, almost unspoiled grandeur of the U.P.;
• Quiet in the forest so loud that you can hear it;
• The steady, almost mesmerizing roar of Tahquamenon Falls;
• The cornucopia of colors as God’s creation changes seasons;
• The haunting strains of The Edmund Fitzgerald as we viewed remains of shipwrecks; and,
• Beacons of history as we climb the steps to the towers of lighthouses that dot the shorelines like exclamation points.

As great as it was, the best part was being able to come back to a place called “home” on Stratford Rd, and to a family to love and serve at Crossroads Community Baptist Church in Ann Arbor.

Last week my sister Judy died.

The word came on Saturday afternoon like a kick in the gut: “Judy passed away.” The text message came from my oldest brother, Larry. Judy, age 50, experienced her first stroke several months ago, and they just kept coming. The doctors said her life was now measured in weeks, or days . . . and they were right.

The pain of loss is greater because what we had gained was still so wondrously new. It was just seven years ago that I met my sister for the first time. Separated by the dysfunctional dynamics of divorce and remarriage, the Texas and California offspring of Raymon Lawrence Daffern have cautiously, yet steadily, built familial bridges in recent years. Larry, still in our “ancestral” home in California, and Judy, in Wichita Falls, TX, were the two who have led the re-merging of the family.

Over these last few years, and again in the last two months, I’ve watched Larry quietly and gently give leadership to our generation of the family. In the midst of sorrow, I’ve see yet again that he will be a very good “patriarch” when his turn comes. I take great comfort in knowing that Larry is more than ready for this familial leadership role.

Last week I learned that grandchild #6 is on the way!

The ultrasound this week told us Joshua and Robin are now 5 ½ weeks pregnant. I am still laughing, crying, and praising God.

Conception, the gift of life, is always a miracle. While they are not exactly Abraham and Sarah, and knowing that this was nowhere near an “immaculate conception,” I do know that after nine-plus years of marriage this pregnancy is truly a miracle.

I look forward to the time in about 33 ½ weeks when I can hold this miracle in my arms. This miracle will take his/her place alongside Ezekiel and Shepherd, who arrived in 2007 and 2009 via miraculous adoption experiences.

Truly, the God of miracles has His hand and His favor upon this family.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven; a time to be born and a time to die . . . (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2a).

One of the many books that I have read (or re-read) in the past three months is a little 96-page book written three decades ago by William L. Hendricks.  Deepening Discipleship was a book Hendricks wrote for teens (under the auspices of the old Baptist Sunday School Board).

It was a simple book, but the five chapter titles really struck a nerve:

1. Welcome to Discipleship! (because you are now on a “life or death” team)
2. How Much Did It Cost God (everything)
3. Your Part Costs a Lot, Too! (praying, staying, watching, broadcasting, risking)
4. And It’s Going to Continue to Cost! (discipleship is your Christian life – all of you)
5. But It’s Worth It (Holy Spirit power and a place to go)

What I loved is that Hendricks said it plain . . . without any sugar-coating.

Fast-forward 30 years to 2011.  The church in America is overwhelmed by those who really don’t want the “real deal.”  They are very content with “Dollar Store discipleship.”

I don’t want to settle for the cheap imitation.  I don’t want those whom I influence (including those in the church I pastor) to settle for Dollar Store discipleship.  Let’s be willing to pay the full price and attain authentic discipleship.

Like far too many, I struggled for years with any kind of positive relationship with my father.  I was in my early 30′s  when I first said “I forgive you” to my step-dad.  (Actually, I wrote it in a Father’s Day letter.)  To say/write this, I had to choose to let go of the ugliness of the past.

I had decided that I no longer wanted to live in “yesterday,” because that kept me a slave to bitterness and anger.  To let go, I had to apply the Bible in an area of my life that I really preferred to exempt from God’s prying eyes.

• For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.  (Matthew 6:14-15)
• When you pray, say ” . . . . Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us . . . ” (Luke 11:2,4)
• Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  (Colossians 3:13)
• Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  (Luke 23:34

Fast-forward to three weeks ago: I was wandering among the stacks at the public library.  The title jumped out at me:  Our Father’s War, by Tom Matthews.  The subtitle intrigued me:  Growing Up in the Shadow of the Greatest Generation. 

Matthews, an award-winning journalist, is one of the countless men who had struggled for decades to have any kind of positive relationship with his dad.  One day he set out on a quest to discover “why?”  Half a century later, he also wanted to figure out who was this strange and haunted man who came home from World War II, a decorated member of the fabled 10th Mountain Division.  Matthew’s own journey of discovery led him to research and share the stories of generational strife between ten World War II veterans and their “baby boomer” sons.

The stories are real.  They are riveting.  For any son who still can’t figure out his aging father, it’s a must read.

• There’s a wonderful freedom that comes with the “empty-nest” years.
• I’ve lived long enough to have attained some usable wisdom and experience.
• I’ve walked with Christ long enough to desire for the sanctification process to have stripped away a lot of the junk (pride, selfishness, etc.).

 However, there are some things about being middle-aged that really stink.

• The hair is so far gone that I can’t even say I have a receding hairline . . . it’s better described as “missing in action.”
• The aches and pains grow each year . . . bad knees, bad back, etc.
• As the metabolism slows down I eat less and weigh more.

 It’s this last point that I really want to talk about.  Despite what I thought were my best efforts, I have been overweight for about 10 years.  (Don’t laugh.  No, really . . . don’t laugh!  Yes, God made me skinny.  But, I have been packing a little extra upholstery around the middle for quite some time.)

 When some very heavy lifting about 12 years ago resulted in two herniated  discs in my back, Dr. Lee, my primary care physician, told me the best relief for back pain was to lose a few pounds.  He set a target for me based on my height, body type, etc.  The target was 153 pounds.  I lost about 7 pounds and got on track . . . but a few years later I started slowly putting it back on.

 Last fall I was up to 170 pounds and I had to buy “fat” clothes.  Okay, it wasn’t that drastic.  But after years of wearing a 32 waist, I had to go buy a new “lower” wardrobe with a 34 waist.  I wasn’t happy about it (partly because I’m cheap and hate to spend money), but I consoled myself with the thought that it was an inevitable part of growing old.  I gave my good “32’s” to my son Aaron, and gave the well-worn “32’s” to the Salvation Army.

 But, in January I got sick.  For the second time in four years I had “shingles.”  Besides being incredibly miserable from the illness, the needed medications didn’t agree with my stomach.  I ate nothing but chicken noodle soup and saltines for a week, and couldn’t always keep those down.  It was like having a free weight-loss clinic!  I think I dropped 5 to 7 pounds in the week.

 By the time I recovered and began eating real food, my stomach had shrunk.  That’s when I decided to try to keep it shrunk.  I reduced the size of my portions, and have kept them reduced.

 Two weeks ago I had to go out and start buying new pants . . . in a size 32 waist.

 Two days ago it finally happened.  I stepped on the bathroom scale and it reported . . . 153!!!! 

 Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

It was 15 summers ago that the Lord spoke: “There goes the greatest ministry you will ever do.”

I had already served three wonderful churches in “associate” positions (Hayward, Livermore, and Hemet, CA). God was in the process of calling me to my first pastorate in Winslow, AZ. After also serving in Phoenix, AZ, I’ve just begun serving the Lord and His people in my third pastorate in Ann Arbor, MI. It is an awesome calling to serve the Lord as a minister. I have felt God’s pleasure in each ministry setting, and He has faithfully and abundantly blessed the work.

Nevertheless, my ministry through the Lord’s church has not been, nor

Desiree, Aaron, me, Drew, and Dave

ever will be, my “greatest ministry.” God’s made that very clear 15 summers ago.

Our identical twin sons, Aaron and Joshua, were leaving for college that day. As their cars pulled away from our house, and even as my wife and I wept with both joy and sadness, the Lord spoke: “There goes the greatest ministry you will ever do.”

The memories come flooding back as I write in the cool of this early morning. The windows are open and the sights and sounds are incredible. The birds are nibbling at the feeder outside the window just 15 feet away.

In the background I can hear the stirrings as our oldest son and his family begins to rise and get ready to leave. They arrived last week, making the long drive from Fort Worth, TX. It’s been so incredible to spend time with Aaron, his wife (Heather), and their children (Dave, Drew, and Desi).

Most of all, I’m just grateful to God. My wife and I poured our very hearts into our sons in those “growing up” years. Lynne began praying for their future wives when the boys were only a few years old. (God truly answered the consistent prayers of a mother, because both Heather and Robin are awesome wives and moms who love the Lord.)

I never was a perfect dad. I’ve always been too “picky.” I had to work hard to learn how to first control my temper, and then rid myself of that temper. Truly, I made a lot of mistakes along the way.

But, somehow God worked in a mighty way despite my imperfections. God did a great work through me (and Lynne), and I sit here this morning just incredibly humbled.

Our sons are men of God. They have been and always will be my “greatest ministry.”

We took our time and enjoyed being outside as we roamed along the trails.  What a joy it was to meander along the creek and see the beauty of Spring.  All the varieties of trees joined together to display a beautiful rainbow of green leaves.

The wildflowers were beginning to bloom.  I can’t even begin to name them as I begin life in a completely different climate and geographical zone.  But, I can definitely identify them all as “beautiful.”

The Canadian geese were everywhere, with parents cautiously protecting their goslings from predators . . . and “shutterbugs” that got too close.

The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good (Genesis 1:12). 

I happen to think that Harold Camping is wrong. That’s because Jesus said . . . So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. If Camping is “expecting” the Lord’s return, that’s almost a guarantee that Camping is wrong . . . again.

There’s another reason that I’m hoping that Camping is wrong. (No, it’s not that I want him to look like a fool before all the people whom he has manipulated and misled . . . although he will.)

I have a much better reason: There are a lot of people I care about that would be “left behind” if Jesus returned right now. There are people in my own extended family. I’m praying that the Lord tarries, so that they have more time to repent of their sins and trust Jesus as Lord and Savior. There are people I know in Kenya and Mexico that I want to be “saved” before it is too late. There are people all over the world in places like Botswana, Myanmar, Viet Nam, Japan, Afghanistan, and England who need to truly know the Lord.

The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9).

Come later, Lord Jesus!