A Tribute of Faith

Today two years ago my mother died.  As we go along through life, we find ourselves adding to the keeping of birthdays and wedding anniversaries the death dates of those we love.  As I woke up remembering I find myself drawn to a simple word in the letter Paul wrote to Timothy, "I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure lives in you."  (II Timothy 1:5)  Yes, I do have faith in Christ.  It is the bedrock of my whole life. I was drawn to it as a boy and now hold it tightly as the treasure of my life.    

And, yes, while my faith is mine in the sense that I made a positive intentional decision to embrace it, I know it is also the faith that my mother carried with her as long as the years she was with us here instead of in the heavenly place where she now dwells.  She was the one who made sure I learned to pray.  She was the one who put the stability of the church in my life.  She was the one who modeled faith in Christ before I knew how it looked.   

Today I remember my mother with some degree of sadness.  Like anyone whose mother has died, there is a place not filled.  But, more than anything else I am grateful for this faith she gave to my sister and me when we were young and for the way it has stayed rooted in our hearts for the journey of faith which has becomes ours.  When my time on this side of the River comes to an end, I pray for the blessing of being remembered as one who lived with faith, died in faith, and lives among the great cloud of witnesses because of that faith.  And, I pray, too, that the faith of my mother which still lives in me may continue to bear fruit in the lives of those who come after me.