PASTORS & EVANGELISTS. (A Bonus Blog)

WEARING MY FATHER'S CLOTHING WELL


In the Book of 2^nd Kings we read the account of two rather colorful prophets of the Old Testament. One, an elderly gentleman, Elijah, who had invested his allotted time on earth as an itinerant minister and mouth piece of the Almighty. The other, Elisha, a virtual whippersnapper, and associate of the man whom he counted his mentor and role model.

Following is an account of Elijah’s final day on this planet:

⁹ When they had crossed the Jordan River, Elijah said to Elisha,

“Tell me, what can I do for you before I am taken from you?”

“Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit,” Elisha replied.

¹⁰ “You have asked a difficult thing,” Elijah said, “yet if you see me when I am taken from you, it will be yours—otherwise, it will not.”

¹¹ As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind.

¹² Elisha saw this and cried out,

“My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!”

And Elisha saw him no more. Then he took hold of his garment and tore it in two.

¹³ Elisha then picked up Elijah’s cloak that had fallen from him and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan.

¹⁴ He took the cloak that had fallen from Elijah and struck the water with it. “Where now is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” he asked. When he struck the water, it divided to the right and to the left, and he crossed over.

¹⁵ The company of the prophets from Jericho, who were watching, said,

“The spirit of Elijah is resting on Elisha.”

(2^nd Kings 2:9-15)


Pt. 2

It occurs to me that the particular article of clothing which Elijah left behind was as much symbolic as it was tangible. I wrote something several months ago which reflects on the foregoing passage of scripture, as well as anything I’ve ever written.

That reminiscence reads as follows:

After my dad passed away, my mother offered me his dress boots. While I was tempted to take them home with me, I couldn’t quite get over the notion of wearing the shoes of a …dead man. I did, however, load a couple of his shirts and pants into the back seat of my car.

A few days later, as I was preparing to leave the house, I slid open my double closet doors,

… and saw it.

The “it” was a short-sleeved, button-up purple shirt which looked far too much like the one my dad was wearing when he died. And I should know, since my mother and I had spent several minutes with his lifeless body in an emergency room cubicle.

After this, my mother claimed a hospital representative gave her that particular shirt. However, I’m certain that never happened, since I’d contacted the funeral home the evening of his passing, and a mortician came out immediately to retrieve my father’s mortal remains.

Nevertheless, the shirt in my closet continues to hang in its self-same place, and I can’t bring myself to put it on.

All the foregoing to say that this afternoon, as I was napping, I had a dream.

I found myself standing in a large room in my underwear. As I glanced around, I noticed a pair of pants, and something rather like a tunic. Both articles of clothing were beige in appearance, and upon closer examination I discovered the rough shirt included a clerical collar.

Someone suggested I get dressed. And since my rather tenuous status, and subsequent entrance into the world, depended on the unfamiliar costume at hand, I complied.

As I picked up the two articles of clothing, I noticed. Stitched along the belt, and hem of the chest pocket were words. And though I couldn’t read the words, since they were in some archaic script, I knew. I just knew. The words indicated the mission to which God had assigned me.

It was then I was informed that my father, my spiritual father, would arrive shortly, and that I should be prepared to meet him.

And it is important, at this juncture, for my readers to understand that I came to a saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ under the momentary influence of a Rev. William Kirschke. He had been preaching a revival on the campus of a local Bible college that week, and as he finished the sermon to which I had been privy, I stood from my seat, walked a couple dozen paces to the altar, bent my knee, confessed my sins, and encouraged the Savior of the world to take up residence in my heart; which I believe He did. (Another minister, a Dutch immigrant and missionary to South America, Jerry Triemstra, prayed with me).

As I finished zipping the pants, buttoning the shirt, and straightening the collar, (the likes of which I’d never worn in my life) my spiritual father strode in the door. And it was then I realized, we were

…. dressed exactly alike!

Both my biological and my spiritual fathers are gone now, and as I have implied I have previously worn some, (if not all) of the clothing the former of the two left behind. And to be sure, as my recent dream indicates, I have been blessed to also wear the proverbial clothing of my spiritual father.

You see, he was a national figure in an evangelical, Christian organization, and his heart beat for ministry, and the impact which naturally results from it;

… as does my own.

The collar and words need little or no explanation. The hue of the cloth represents humble service. The same color with which monks are clothed; the humblest clerics of their particular persuasion.

Not unlike the story of Elijah and Elisha, I had, in essence, taken up the mantle of him who preceded me, and draped it about myself.

God grant that I wear my father's clothing well.

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Pt. 71. Copyright Pending.

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