Legacy
When my dad’s dad, my Grandpa Ben, died in 2012, through the grieving process I realized just how he impacted my life, and what an honor it is to be part of his legacy.
In the Bible, the name Benjamin means “Son of my Right Hand,” and if you’ve spent any length studying the Bible, you see the pattern that names more often than not prophetically spoke to the person’s identity.
In the book of Genesis, when Benjamin son of Jacob was born, Rachel—Jacob’s favorite wife—was dying, and she named him “Son of my sorrow.” Before the child’s name was official, the father changed his name and declared a new identity.
The father redeemed a son of sorrow, imparted to him a new identity, and his life was now marked by favor.
Just as Jacob, this earthly father declared a new destiny of favor and blessing over his youngest son, so my heavenly Father declared this new destiny over my Grandpa Ben.
Benjamin. Son of my right hand.
Benjamin, the name of my grandfather. The middle name of my father. My middle name.
The fingerprints of redemption and reconciliation cover the story of the Gering family.
A broken family at one time marked with divorce and heartbreak became a beautiful family marked with grace, love, and unity.
I didn’t fully appreciate the significance of “Benjamin” until Grandpa Ben passed away nine years ago. Only then did I see my heavenly father speaking this identity over me and my dad’s side of the family, a tribe touched by the love of God.
And now, just over nine years later, I’m faced with another, deeper layer of the legacy I carry.
In the beginning of this new year, after a battle with cancer, my Grandpa Jim, my mom’s dad, went to be with the Lord.
As his life drew to a close, and now in the aftermath of his death, I keep getting struck with how Grandpa Jim impacted my life.
Growing up, my family spent more time with my mom’s parents than with my other sets of grandparents. In my mind, Grandpa Jim and Grandma Sherry have always been the quintessential grandparents. The créme de la créme, best of the best, the ones all other grandparents try to be like.
I love all my grandparents, and I don’t want to necessarily offend you if you somehow think your grandparents are better, but let’s just face the facts—there are no grandparents like Grandpa Jim and Grandma Sherry.
As a kid, if I were told to describe my grandparents, I would likely start with the superficial details—unrivaled hospitality, generous givers (especially at Christmas time), selfless helpfulness…
My parents would joke at how they’re difficult to Christmas shop for because they don’t seem to want anything. More than once, they took our family out to eat, their treat, and they paid with gift cards collected from years past that they were supposed to have already used on themselves.
As a kid I likely would’ve focussed on their niceness, but now as an adult, I can better appreciate the character from which their generosity sprang.
My grandparents weren’t nice just because that’s their duty as grandparents. They were filled with a genuine love for their family, a love that extended from the even deeper love of Jesus.
And that’s what sticks out to me as I reflect on Grandpa Jim’s life. If I were to describe him in only one sentence, here’s what I’d say: Grandpa Jim is a mischievous child of God who demonstrates his immense love in practical actions.
I say “mischievous” because of the playful, “ornery” side of his personality. He was just enough of a troublemaker to make things interesting. I remember more than once my mom being frustrated with him at one form of teasing or another, only for him to sneak a wink to me when she wasn’t looking.
Indeed, Grandpa Jim is a mischievous child of God who demonstrates his immense love in practical actions.
I say “child of God” because his identity was rooted in the knowledge of Christ and foundation of scripture, and I say “demonstrates his immense love in practical actions” because of how I saw God’s love flow through him.
When you think of spiritual people living in the love of Christ, you might first think of a pastor or priest, but I think of Grandpa Jim, who never participated in vocational ministry yet demonstrated this reality better than most ministers I’ve seen.
Yes, he participated in church, teaching Sunday School classes and leading Royal Rangers groups at different times. But I think about all the times he helped my family with things throughout the years. He selflessly gave to all his kids and grandkids.
At one point, he and Grandma Sherry opened up their home to my family when my parents were between jobs, and while living with them, I got to see their character up close and more frequently than ever before. Grandpa taught me practical skills and reminded me the value of hard work. He even helped teach me to drive.
While living there, I also witnessed his passion for missions up close.
Sometime after retirement, he started collecting cans and bottles for missions. For recycling in Oregon, there was a per-can deposit of 5 cents (which since raised to 10 cents), and state law requires every store to return the deposit money if you bring them the used cans and bottles.
Many an Oregonian has leveraged this for fundraising, but Grandpa Jim took it to the next level.
What started as a specific push for his church BGMC missions collection became essentially his post-retirement job. It was a passion. He spent years collecting cans and bottles, and in the process forging new relationships with people and store employees, all the while telling them about Jesus and his mission.
I had the distinct privilege of being able to go with him on many can-runs, whether it be to collect bags of recycling from people or to go to the stores to drop the cans off and collect cash.
A nickel at a time, he collected multiple tens of thousands of dollars for missionary efforts around the world. You can read more about it here in a recent article written about his impact.
My point is this: I got to see his love demonstrated daily through the simplest of actions. He took hold of the mission and embraced an easy-but-messy recycling project no one wanted to do, and he said, “I can do that.”
And not only did he do that, but he did it for years and with that sacrifice made a staggering impact for the kingdom of God.
And I’m struck today with the truth that his legacy belongs to me, my brothers, my cousins, my parents, and my aunts and uncles.
The legacy of practical love has imprinted my heart, and it’s helped form me into the man I am today.
As I grieve the loss of my grandpa, I am struck with a sense of loss. I will miss him, and I know my future-kids will never get to know him. Even so, even more deeply, I’m struck with a sense of gratitude that I get to carry Grandpa Jim’s legacy in my memory and in my actions, and even in how I internalize the mission God has for me in my own life.
I’m a proud grandson, and I’m honored to carry Grandpa Jim’s legacy with me wherever I go.
