by Pamela Taylor

Created on: February 25, 2009   Last Updated: February 28, 2009

When I was growing up there was one thing in my family that was a constant. God. I came from a low to middle class coal mining family in Kentucky. We were probably typical by most standards. Coal mining dad, stay at home mom, three daughters, me being the youngest of the three. Our ages were so spaced apart, so to say we were close would be an overstatement. But one thing that we all agreed on was church on Sunday morning.

This is true with one exception. My dad. As far back as I can remember, I can't recall dad being faithful as far as his church going habits. We went to church with mom, on occasion dad would go to a service or a tent revival but nothing of anything consistent. To me this didn't even seem odd or even a cause for great concern. I knew him and knew where he stood on things and that stand was strong on the word of God.

When my dad passed away ten years ago, I never thought about his church going ways until someone spoke about them. A well meaning lady said at his funeral that even though my dad didn't go to church, she couldn't see how any one could call into question his destination of heaven. To me this raised a question, "Were people really concerned about my dad's spiritual life?" This bothered me and made me have to look at things closer.

I never had any cause to grow up doubting my dad's convictions. He was strict with his children, but with three daughters, he had to be. He was also loving and understanding to his children, when his youngest daughter ended up pregnant at 15, these traits showed through. There was never any talk of disowning or shame, he loved me anyway and loved the grandson I gave him. He put a conviction of alcohol on me that was so strong that today at 32 years old, I can't drink and I am a better person for that. He instilled beliefs and morals in me that I wish others in the world had including some of my close friends. He loved the Lord, never forgot to give God the praise for good times and never blamed God when things went wrong. Anyone who knew my dad would not say a curse word in front of him, take God's name in vain, or drink an alcoholic beverage in front of him. He was respected for his views, loved by all and was considered a man of God. Did not going to church "religiously" change this view of him? Maybe, but only to those who truly didn't know him. Perfect? Not by a mile, but God doesn't even seek perfection.

For me going to church is a must for my daily walk with Christ to be strong. I need the prayers of my church-going friends and family. I need the foundation and structure that a good, loving church congregation gives you when you are at a low point. But this being said, what good would my church-going be without a good witness. In the world today, as a Christian our witness needs to be stellar. Going to church on Sunday morning isn't going to get me into heaven or even into the good graces of my community. I need to be the same everyday, not just on Sunday. There is another lesson that my dad taught me that I just realized. My dad was the same everyday of the week. His walk with the Lord was strong and tested and I know it was not found lacking by our Creator. Thanks to my father teaching me about the Lord early in my life until the day he died, I know that his early passing on earth is just a fleeting time until the time I see him again.

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