Friday, November 2, 2012

Nobody Reads My Books

This was my grandmother's lament. The books she spoke of were by M.R. DeHaan. Loveable but foolish, old woman, I thought. DeHaan had been a physician who gave up his practice to teach the Word of God.

And teach he did, by radio and books, the ones she complained about. I was quite young. Though a believer, his literalness was too much for me. Giants upon the earth--who believed that? He cited Genesis 6. I wouldn't even read that part of the Bible. Her own son did not believe in God, and married a woman who did not. My grandmother was alone in her faith.

She was named Arizona, named after the territory that became a state the year she was born. Her husband, a faithful believer, had died, leaving her by herself. We visited and got along well. "Grandma, they have their own books to read." I spoke of her son and his family. But she mourned for those who laughed at the Word.

Years went by and my faith grew. What if the stories in Genesis were true? I bought a little book on Daniel's prophecy of the seventy weeks, but found it incomprehensible. By then, I realized the fault was mine. Oh how slowly God works! How patient He is! Years roll by and some of us develop so slowly.

Grandma, I wish I could speak to you now. Your books are treasures. I have studied them. Your son did not read your books, but your grandson did.

There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. Genesis 6:4

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