If I wasn't a follower of Jesus, I think I would worship my ancestors. I am wrapped up in history and in my family's place in it, and I could easily take that to the point of offering pieces of apple pie to a picture of my father.
My dad's been dead almost four years, but I still feel him close to me. I can't imagine dishonoring his memory by discarding the values he fleshed out in his life. Although I have no reason to live in the light if I don't believe in the power who created that light, I do have an obligation to my father.
My days in the drug culture - the arrests, courts, stealing, squandering his money - were not pleasant ones for him, and he never really recovered his trust in me. In the thirty-four years after my commitment to Jesus, I learned a lot from him regarding the old ways - honor, truthfulness, straight shooting, kindness, patience, compassion and generosity.
If I had a reason to dis-believe tomorrow, I would live a life that mirrored that of my father. No dope; no old broads; no hardness and cynicism; no pessimism about the future; keeping my word; treating people fairly; supporting that which is just; and always, always voting for Democrats.
Some things rest heavy on me, and after years of peeing on what my dad held important, I am certain that I would go down screaming rather than meekly acquiescing to values contrary to his.
That's what I can do to keep him close.
Although I made cogent arguments in my last blog regarding "doing good for good's sake," I was deceiving myself about who I would be if I didn't believe. As much as I could in my own strength, I would live in the image of my father.
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