I’m a fourth-generation preacher. You might presume that the ministry was a foregone conclusion for me; a pre-ordained pathway.
It wasn’t like that at all. For a time, I just wanted to be a drummer. Having received the call to preach at 17, I finally followed in the footsteps of my forefathers. I’ve never regretted that decision. Twenty years ago, I stood before the elders; a candidate for ordination. The superintendent granted my father the privilege of laying hands on me, and praying the ordination prayer.
A Sunday does not pass that I don’t feel my father’s hand. He has always been there. He was the “larger-than-life” superhero of my boyhood. I remember him squeezing my shoulder when I took the keys to my first used car on the lot at Crescent Chevrolet. Often, in the afterglow of the Sunday night service, I would feel his hand on my shoulder and his prayers in my heart. His hand has faithfully corrected me, directed me, encouraged and comforted me.
That’s the kind of influence and intimacy God wants with us. His hand will guide, shelter, chasten, and lift up – if we so desire. Don’t resist your heavenly Father. The very best you could know is in His hand.
Reposted with permission from onehope.net.