The family I grew up in wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But it was special. Many people have commented on how unusual the Blackaby family is. I was reminded of that on October 9, 2022, at my mother’s funeral. All five of her children spoke at the service. All five are committed Christians who have served in full-time Christian ministry for more than thirty years. At the funeral service, my mother’s oldest grandchild, Mike, spoke on behalf of the grandchildren. He is a pastor in Victoria, Canada. All fourteen of my mother’s grandchildren are Christians. Many of them are serving in Christian ministry. My mother’s brother and sister were at the funeral. They both spent their lives in Christian ministry. Several of my cousins who attended the funeral serve in ministry. Both my grandfathers were godly deacons. The question is, how do you raise a family so that each generation of family members walks with and serves God?
It certainly was God’s grace that generation after generation of Blackabys grew up to love and serve him. There is nothing inherently special about our family. There is no identifiable spiritual or religious “gene” we possess. Ministry is not part of our DNA. If merely one generation grew up to faithfully serve God, one might assume they had unusually devout parents. But how does a family raise up generations of spiritually committed adults?
This question requires an entire book to answer thoroughly. I don’t know the dynamics of the generations before me. My great-grandfather Blackaby attended Spurgeon’s College with his two brothers. His two brothers ultimately became pastors. My great-grandfather became a godly businessman. His son became a godly businessman as well. He also planted a church in his spare time. My father attended that church in Prince Rupert as he was growing up. My grandfather died when I was six months old, but I have heard many stories about him. He was a man of great conviction who knew God had a purpose for his life and for his three children.
When my dad was a young adult, he felt God calling him into ministry during a young people’s rally. As dad came to the altar call to pray with a counsellor, his dad was standing at the front of the auditorium. He had been enlisted to provide spiritual guidance to those responding to the invitation. My grandfather urged his middle child to respond wholeheartedly to what God was telling him to do.
In my father’s home, I experienced first-hand how Christian families pass down their spiritual legacy. All of us kids respected our dad. He clearly believed deeply in God, and God worked through him powerfully. But it was our mother who was most engaged in our daily lives. I like to say that, in Canadian terms, Dad was the parliament, but Mom was the RCMP! Dad set high standards for his children, but it was often up to Mom to enforce them.
Many people assume that if all five children felt called into ministry, then there must have been some pressure to conform to those expectations. But the truth is, my parents never spoke to us about being ministers until we first shared that we sensed God calling us to the ministry.
When I entered university, I was running from God’s call on my life. Having watched my parents make such enormous sacrifices to serve God, I was desperately seeking another line of work! After God finally got my attention and I surrendered to his call at the close of a church service, my father, the pastor, told me for the first time that he had always sensed that God wanted me to serve him that way. Ironically, Dad was notorious for not telling you what he thought you should do. If you asked him for direction, he typically suggested you go and seek guidance from God.
I can tell you that there was a lot of laughter in our home. There were some things we weren’t allowed to do that our friends could, but I doubt any of our friends’ homes reverberated with more laughter than ours did. I attribute much of that to our mother. She taught us to embrace every day and to find joy in life. She was a master at making the ordinary into something special. She could make a king’s feast on a peasant’s budget. Even under the most difficult circumstances, she encouraged us to laugh and celebrate. I learned a very important truth from that: the Christian life is a joyful life.
In more recent years, I watched my parents, especially my mother, investing heavily in their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Mom frequently called her grandkids to encourage them. They knew they always had a sympathetic, listening ear in their grandma. My parents constantly encouraged the younger generations to place their trust in God. I have memories of my mother kneeling on her prayer bench with her two oldest great-grandchildren, teaching them to pray.
I suppose this all was highlighted at my mother’s funeral. A month before she died, I took my daughter with me to visit. Mom complained about her feet being sore. I grabbed some lotion to rub on her feet, but my daughter insisted that she do that. I was struck by the thought, “How must you treat the younger generation so that when you are old, they would gladly rub your feet?” At Mom’s funeral, several of her grandchildren had profound encounters with God. Some shared afterward that their grandmother’s funeral had inspired them to take their walk with God to a higher level.
The week Mom died, her two oldest great-grandchildren were baptized, professing their commitment to follow Jesus. The next generation is beginning to step up to carry on the spiritual legacy. I know Mom would be so pleased.
