My favorite picture from my childhood is of me and my dad sitting in the back yard of our first house. I think I was probably about three years old. I've got a baseball hat on and I'm pretty sure we had just finished up a rigorous wiffleball workout in which my dad had explained in great detail the finer points of the game as he carefully tuned the mechanics of my swing.
I don't remember that evening specifically, but when I look at that photo I can imagine myself standing there poised in my best batting stance – feet shoulder-width apart, a slight bend in my knee, the bat gently resting on my shoulder, my eyes narrowed in and focused. I can see my dad standing about ten feet away, wiffle ball in hand, winding up to make the pitch, praying he isn't about to earn a spot in an "America's Funniest Home Videos" groin-shot compilation.
I don't remember how many balls he threw my way that night. I don't remember how many I hit or how many floated past me. Nights like that aren't about competition or performance. They're about a dad and his son enjoying life together. They're about passing things on, one generation to the next. They're about inheritance.
Inheritance is a funny thing. It really only happens at two specific times: life and death.
When we are born, we inherit certain characteristics from our parents. We get their eyes or their ears or their height. We get their intelligence, creativity, athletic ability, or lack thereof. Simply because of who our parents are, we look and act a certain way.
People have told me all my life that I look like my dad. I used to disagree. I didn't really see it, and I'm not sure I wanted to. I wanted to be my own person – not like anyone else. As I've gotten older, I've gotten to know my dad so much more. I've learned about his character, his personality, and the things that make him who he is. I understand the things that make him a successful husband, father, friend, and businessman. I've also seen the struggles and challenges. Through it all, the more I learn, the more I love that people think I look like him. I'm still my own person, but I've grown to fully accept and cherish the idea that I am that unique person because of the pieces of him that are in me. I know my dad, what kind of man he is, and I want to look like him.
God also passes along an inheritance to us when we are born. Genesis says we are made in his image. Just like our parents, there are pieces of each of us that look like him just because he's our Father. I feel like this is one of those truths that is easily accepted in theory by many of us, but is far more rarely realized in our daily lives. In a general sense, we understand that we're made in God's image. In an individual sense, the discovery of what exactly it is about us that looks like God is harder to put our finger on. And I think it's because we often don't really know what he looks like.
Imagine you had never met your parents. It would be nearly impossible to determine if you had their eyes, their smile, or their laugh. And reading a book probably wouldn't cut it, either. The same is true of God. Until we've had a real, personal encounter with a living, speaking, moving God, seeing him in ourselves is just a guessing game. But when we really see God for who he is in our lives, when we can understand his character and his personality, we begin to see the pieces of him in us that make us uniquely crafted by his hands.
Just like with my dad, it took me a while to understand and accept that I really do look like my Father in heaven. I had to open my eyes up and watch him move before I could see the ways I move like him. I had to stop and listen to his voice before I could recognize it coming out of my mouth. And all along the way I've had an amazing community of people around me who also know him who are there to tell me when I look like him. I know my Father. I know what kind of God he is. And I love that I look like Him.
You also look like your Father. You may not be able to see it yet, but my hope is that we all can come to see the pieces of him that we've inherited. To do that we've got to decide to go deeper than just knowing about him. We must know him. Hear him. See him. And it doesn't hurt to hang out with people who know him, too.
P.S. Don't worry, we'll get to the whole "death" part of inheritance next week.
