My Story Isn’t Over Yet

By Dan Amos

A couple of weeks ago, I realized my children knew very little of my history before them. And when Fran and I told our stories of salvation at community group, she said we need to tell them to our sons. So, on Father’s Day, after one son gave thanks for the food, we dished up and headed outside to eat. I got to go first and got started eating before everyone else came out. I had a plan. I now had a captive audience and I declared executive privilege on Father’s Day. While they continued eating, I told my story.

It wasn’t the quick three minutes Pastor Steve suggested, because even the slower eaters were done before me. I started by telling about my parents. My mom was involved in an evangelical church when she was a teenager and accepted Jesus then. She then introduced her mother to Jesus, but I don’t know about how my grandfather became a Christian. I should have asked my grandma when she was telling me her story shortly before she died. 

My dad was raised in a Catholic family, but I didn’t get the impression it was meaningful. He lived with his dad, who I think owned a bar, and his aunt who raised him after his mother died when he was around 10. But I only knew him as a Christian growing up. By the time I was born, my parents were attending a Nazarene church in Southern California, where my dad was stationed. The only birth announcement I have is a clipping from the church bulletin that gives a couple of options for my name, neither of which ended up on the birth certificate.

I grew up knowing about Jesus and the need to submit my life to him. I can’t say when this happened, but I was probably seven or eight. I heard a lot about Hell and the reality of going there. I learned of God and creation, sin and redemption. This shaped the worldview through which I see things today. It also meant that I was and am aware of my sin and my constant failing, but when I confess my sin, God is forgiving, graceful, and merciful.

I have seen God work in my life through provision, assignments, and circumstances, but one of the most enduring and powerful ways was in providing me a partner for life in Fran. She is my constant support and gentle challenger to examine my choices and life.

I am thankful that I did not see prejudice from my parents. Until I was nine, we lived in Navy communities that were integrated, and my friends had a variety of skin colors. But even though we played together, I did not know their stories. I did not know their struggles or the racism that they had to deal with.

I am learning more about racism and my heart is broken over it. I want my world to change and it starts with listening to the real problem. We have had many discussions at work, and I hope they never stop. We are in a difficult time because passions are high, reactions vary, and criticism abounds. I pray that we conquer this sin and extend grace to each other through it all.

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