I heard a preacher years ago describe a father’s impact on his son. The preacher talked at first about how his son loved hunting and fishing just like he did. And that really gave them a lot of time to bond and grow together in a way some fathers and sons may not have as easy of a time doing if they do not have shared interests.
You’ve probably even heard of new fathers making comments meant to be funny that their kids better like the same activities that they like. But what this preacher added on that has stuck with me ever since was when he pointed out that he and his son have the same walk. They carry themselves the same. They stand in one place the exact same way.
As fathers, we have a profound impact on our children. And we may not see it taking shape in those early years, but if we just hold on and fight the good fight, I believe you will be amazed at what took root.
Let Me Introduce Carl Gregory
Carl Gregory is a man’s man. Now not in the way some of you think of that phrase. Carl is not a man’s man in the sense that he is a stereotype and loves hunting and fishing, and cars and has a beard like Phil Robertson.
My dad has always been a relatively slim man. His presence is felt in the room but not because he is physically dominating everyone. Instead my dads’ presence is made known by his initiative.
So what I mean when I refer to my dad as a man’s man is that men routinely will look to him to get things done. My dad is a hard worker. He is a go getter. At a very young age he was tearing his bikes apart and putting them back together. And overtime he just graduated from bikes to lawn mowers to pulling transmissions out of cars. My dad has always had this mind about him that is curious to take things apart and put them back together. And whatever fear he had before unscrewing that first bolt, if he had any, he always overcame. My dad was resilient. He always pushed himself to go a little further than he did the day before.
It’s actually kind of remarkable that growing up my dad was the man that I would see other dads call when they had an issue go wrong with their house or with their car. Because my dad did not have a perfect example of a loving and hard working father growing up. He comes from a fairly abusive home life where his father pulled a gun out on him and he had to flee from home.
He comes from a messy divorce where sides had be taken and he got caught in between. See, my dad always found a way to get caught right in the thick of it. You could probably say he was a bit of a trouble maker.
Young Carl had no problem pulling that fire alarm. Literally. Young Carl had no problem getting into fights in one of the worst schools in Georgia.
He was a scrapper. And he fought hard. He dropped out of school in tenth grade and went to work. Work was his home. In many ways it probably was his safe place. It was the place where he could have some sense of control and so there he was, framing houses right out of high school.
What makes me tear up writing this is thinking back to young Carl. He was a just a kid, growing up in an environment where he needed some love. He needed someone to tell him it’s okay. He needed someone to come alongside of him and tell him that he did a good job.
But then again, his environment shaped who he was and who he would become. First born son, the second child of 4, named after his pops.
Carl Felton Gregory Jr.
This is my father. And this is how he impacted my life.
Conversion
I remember the day pretty vividly. I was in the eighth grade and I had been wrestling for a couple years now with my faith. The church I grew up in disappointed me. It seemed like they were more talk than walk. And their hypocrisy fed into the doubts that I had begun to have about God even being real at all.
I wanted evidence. I wanted to see this God who changes people’s lives in action; because looking around this sanctuary on some random Sunday looked more like a bunch of people who bought into the same lie. There was no real life change. People had lost their passion to make an impact. The church seemed more focused on building a big institution than about doing any of the work they talked about from the stage.
In my own little world that Sunday morning I had made a deal with God. I was fed up, I was angry, and I was ready to call my search for God off. So I told God that morning “you have Sunday school and worship service to show me your real. If you can’t do that, then I’m done.”
Sunday school came and went. And I walked to the sanctuary and sat at the end of the pew my family usually occupied. Like the “cool” preteen I thought I was, I was on the opposite end of the row from my parents, giving us some distance as I waited God out.
And then at some point during the service, I felt the need to pray. “God, where are you? How can I know your real?”
Genesis 1:1 came to mind along with a series of images of God’s creation.
But that did not change my life.
It was the moment that it hit me that the greatest evidence I needed to believe in Jesus was right in front of me the whole time. It was the story of my dad.
A man who came from a rough background. A man who was heavily addicted to drugs and alcohol. A man who came from a violent past. The man no one expected to change, changed.
And the only reason I grew up knowing my father, being able to say that my dad never hit me. Being able to say that my dad loved and cared for me. That he never missed a basketball game or a practice. That was all because a man named Jesus came into my dad’s life. Despite whatever failure the church may have had in properly discipling my dad. Jesus came into my dad’s life and turned him into a loving, affectionate in his own way, present father.
God used my dad’s real life example to call me to Him.
Serve
I always say that I was more of a preacher’s kid than the preachers kid. I say that because our pastor’s family barely showed up. I rarely ever seen them. And that’s shocking because we were always at the church.My dad is a hard worker and that did not just apply to his career.
My dad worked hard to serve the church. He truly embodied the passage in Galatians where Paul says:
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.1
There is a lot of unseen work done within the church walls that many people will never notice. Work that needs to be done. That if not done will cause a ton of problems for when people come in.
My dad was one of the men who without being asked would just show up and offer to help.
Every Sunday morning that the baptismal needed to be filled for the baptisms happening later, my dad would show up early and get water ready. And because plumbing issues happened regularly with that baptismal, my dad and his mentor Fred Kilgore would show up and work on fixing the plumbing issue before anyone arrived. All in an effort to make that Sunday service flow easily.
My dad showed up early every Sunday morning to help put doughnuts and coffee out for the fellowship time before Sunday school. He was the only man in a room full of old women. He showed up, and made their life easier. He did what they asked. He did not take control, he served.
My dad, every time we had a ‘Brotherhood’ meeting(a time for men to get together and fellowship and hear the Word of God preached), would show up early again and help. He did not really grill or fry the fish, but he made sure he was available so that at any moment if one of the men in charge needed a plate, or a spoon, or napkins, whatever it was, he could jump in and be of assistance.
Stories like this could go on and on. I know because I was the one who went with him. Seeing my dad serve like this time and time again taught me without him ever making a point to explain why he did what he did, that there is always work to do. There is always a way to be of help to those around you. I don’t think my dad ever really got recognition for what all he did behind the scenes. But he no doubtly deserved it. Because he served when no one was watching. He taught me through his actions that teaching of Jesus that says:
“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. 7 And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. 8 Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.2
Preach
My friend once in highschhool got caught up in some drama. His ex girlfriend had moved on and was trying to bring him into a fight with her new man. I, being the friend who loves make jokes to ease whatever tension there is made a joke that got taken the wrong way. And in an Instagram comment, this ‘new boyfriend’ said something along the lines of “that preachers kid better shut his mouth….”
I’m pretty sure he had other choice words that I will not share here. And I did reach out to him and we settled the issue but the point remains that this kids comment is how many people in my school viewed me.
They thought I was a preacher’s kid. They knew I went to Southside Baptist. My families name was heavily attached to the church. But for a very specific reason, people who did not actually know me assumed I was a preacher’s kid. And it’s all my dad’s fault.
See, my dad took his faith serious. He was a passionate man. Any and every opportunity to share his faith, he took ahold of. Some people worry that they missed their opportunity to share their faith with their coworker or their friend. I’m not sure my dad ever missed an opportunity though. If anything I think he made opportunities so that he could talk about Jesus with others.
My dad taught a kid’s Sunday school class, he helped lead gym class in Awana’s, he taught in VBS. But there was one moment that stuck with the community we grew up more than any of that.
It was when my dad threw a block party in the hood.
My dad never met a stranger. Many families it seemed adopted him in because of his ability to connect with them. And in the rough side of town my dad fell in love with these people who did not look like him. And they loved him. And in an effort to reach people that our church would not reach, my dad took it upon himself to throw a block party and share the gospel.
When I say “he took it upon himself”. I mean as a family we drove around on a golf cart and went house to house inviting people to this block party. I remember some conversations cut short, some were not appropriate for children because the smell of weed was so thick in the air. I remember one conversation my dad had with a gay son of a preacher, where my dad met that man right where he was. He helped turn someone hostile into a man able to have a conversation. This was not a church sponsored event. It was my dad taking serious the call to make disciples. And so I watched my dad closer to the end of the block party w here people were eating hamburgers and kids were playing on bouncy houses, preach the gospel. Not because he was asked, but because he loved Jesus and he loved people. And no one was going to hold him back.
Connect
My dad every Tuesday and Thursday night would be missing for about an hour or so. This was expected in our house. It was not because he was out at the bar after a long day of work. It was not because he would rather be anywhere but the house.
My dad was missing because he was at the nursing home. Meeting with the elderly who many had been forgotten about by their families. He would go room to room and check on them and then read the Bible to whichever’s wanted to hear it.
And when I say he read the Bible. I mean that’s literally all he did. He had no lesson, no discussion questions. He just read to a room of old people.
I would not pick up on what he was doing then. In fact, this is one of those prime examples where I never really wanted to go with him. It was boring and dark because the lights were always dim. The smell was weird. But my dad despite however boring it may seemed to me, showed up. Time and time again.
He knew the people by name. And this was no irregularity.
My dad had an act for connecting with people that others overlooked. Whether it was the part of town we call the hood that our church was not able to reach, or the nursing home where he went by himself to minister to the elderly and forgotten. My dad would consistently go out of his way to make others feel seen and heard.
I rode with my dad a lot. He did not have the nicest car, but he made me feel like he did. He had always had some type of old Buick that he inherited from some elderly person. And in that Buick he picked up hitchhikers.
As a kid I had no concept that this was dangerous or taboo. I do remember one Sunday he picked up a hitch hiker on our way to church. My friend Bryce had stayed the night and so he was in the car with us. When we got to church and Bryce’s mom found out, she was not happy.
But to be fair, my dad did not see that person as a threat. He did not know that person. All he knew was that they were a human being, walking in the middle of nowhere and could use a ride to get a little bit further.
Along with picking hitch hikers up, my dad on every vacation it seemed could find a homeless man, walk over and get into a really deep and personal conversation with a man he just met. And eventually share the gospel and buy the homeless person some food.
My dad taught me how to connect with people. He had no strategy that I know of. But he did have the outlook that he was no better than anyone he came across. Regardless of their skin color or their background. My dad reached out. He made himself available. He made others feel seen when they were overlooked.
Listen
Recently I have been trying to do a better job at what I allow to be filling the rooms of our house. My girls will hear and see whatever it is that I have brought in. And I am a sucker for some “good” reality tv, edgy Youtube videos, movies that are not always the most suitable for children, and podcasts that maybe talk about Christianity in theory but do not practice the tenants. In other words, I can fill the room with some pretty rough language by what I consume.
Something I am now trying to replicate that my dad did was to fill the air with God’s Word.
My dad had his usual nightly routine of reading his Bible in his recliner before bed, but what really sticks in my mind is the years and years of being surrounded by the preaching he would listen to.
In that old Buick my dad would regularly be listening to some John MacArthur. At work they would have the preaching station 101.1 playing over the sounds of cabinets being built. At home, Charles Stanley, Dr. David Jeremiah and Jerry Falwell would be on the tv confidently preaching the Word of God.
I was exposed to more preaching over the years thanks to my dad than probably most preachers. I grew up knowing John MacArthur by name. His Bible handbook was one of the only books outside of the Bible my dad owned.
What I learned from this is that being surrounded by the Word of God can have an impact on a kids life. Wherever I went, I heard the gospel preached. That’s because my dad was hungry for it. It became part of his personality to have these men of God blasting through the speakers wherever he was at. Listening to the Gospel being preached was not option, it was the norm.
Work
I’ve shared with you about the hitch hikers, the block parties, the early Sunday mornings, the nursing homes. But maybe one of the defining characteristics of my dad is his ability and desire to work.
Work was a noble calling on someone’s life from my dad’s point of view. Work was not something any of us should be exempt from. Work was a gift from God to us.
My dad was a man who worked hard. Even during the financial crisis of 2008 where he lost his job, my dad never had a day off from my memory. He always was out there trying to find or make work for himself.
He was also a bit of a hardhead when it came to work. He had high standards. As a kid, I thought he was being a jerk but as I got older I realized that my dad saw his work as a divine task.
Paul says in Colossians:
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters3
Whether my dad was building a fence, framing a house, putting a roof on a house, building cabinets, taking transmissions out of cars, working for pay or as a generous gift to someone in need; my dad aimed to do the work right. He did not take shortcuts, and he made use of his time well. Many people would tell me over the years as I got older that my dad would outwork the younger guys. They could not keep up with him.
One guy I knew talked about how my dad showed up so early to put a roof on a house that this guy was barely even awake but looked up and saw my dad running across beams high in the sky. The risk of falling off woke that man up and got him to get to work as well. This work ethic, rooted in taking God’s Word serious is so imbedded into me that I find myself not able to sit down sometimes. My dad’s motivation rings in my ear all day at work causing me to practice what he lived. Which was to “work unto the Lord.”
Final Thoughts
There is plenty more I could share about this man that I took for granted for many years. But as I have become of a father, I keep finding myself looking back and seeing the positive impact my dad had on my life. He was never the best communicator. But he consistently communicated the gospel. It did not matter where he was, to whom, or what obstacle he had in his way.
My dad went out of his way to make Jesus known. And I pray, my kids can say the same.
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