My Disciple-making Mother
As you learned last week, my mother passed away recently, after a long, long fight with Alzheimer’s disease. Fortunately, Nanette and I got to spend a couple of days with her and my dad and the rest of my family in Texas. We got word of her passing on the way home.
I hesitated to use these pages for such a personal matter, but as I thought about it, I realized that my mom embodied so much of what disciple-making looks like in the home.
We have distinguished before between disciplining and discipling our children. We discipline them to prepare them for adulthood: healthy habits, integrity, taking responsibility for what they’ve done, keeping their word, etc. All parents, Christian or not, want to help their children grow into mature and productive adults.
But discipling is different. When we disciple our children, we are engaging not only in the task of evangelism (teaching them about Jesus and the gospel so they can respond in faith) but also helping them grow in their faith. In fact, discipling our children is a wonderful privilege: once they come to faith, we are working with a very young brother or sister in Christ, helping them form habits that will prepare them for service in God’s Kingdom.
My mom discipled me and my brothers.
Primarily, she taught us to love God’s Word. My own life-long love for the Scriptures is part of the heritage my mother left me. She taught me to hide God’s Word in my heart. So many of the Scriptures I have in my memory I learned at my mother’s knee.
When we were with her in Texas, I sat by the side of her bed and read some of my favorite psalms to her from the King James Bible. I remember that there were moments I would get choked up reading some of those precious, familiar words, especially the psalms that I still can recite: Psalm 23 and Psalm 100.
She was unresponsive, so I had no idea if she could hear me, but I had to read those precious, lovely words to my precious, lovely mother who had taught them to me.
As I mentioned in my sermon Sunday, she also demonstrated the heart of the evangelist, sharing her faith with friends and even strangers. She wanted to share what she had found in Christ, and she seized every opportunity.
Mom also taught me the value of spending time alone with God every day. I can still remember her exhorting my children to make daily quiet time a priority in their lives.
My mother has finally been released from her worn out body and brain. And in that I rejoice. And I’m so glad we got to kiss her once more while she was still here with us and whisper to her that we love her.
And, as we’ll see in our study of Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians, although we grieve, we don’t grieve “as those who have no hope.” Because Jesus rose from the grave, most of the time I get to spend with my mom is still in my future.
Persevere, Paul Pyle Pastor of Discipleship