Faith of Our Fathers

“But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s children.” Psalm 103:17

My great-grandfather, John Stiewig, was a circuit-riding preacher who dispensed fire and brimstone all across Texas and Oklahoma for over fifty years, beginning in the late 1880’s. In today’s vernacular, he’d be labeled a church planter. As he travelled around, family in tow, he would hold revival meetings, and, from that, establish a church.

He passed away at the age of 93. Even though I was a small child then, I still have some vivid memories of visiting Grandpa Stiewig. He was blind at that time, and he would call for me, “Gregory, come see Grandpa.” He would place his hands on my head, and tell me what a good boy I was. I imagine he was whispering a prayer for me, too.

Despite his blindness, Grandpa was incredibly spry for a man in his nineties. Every time we came to visit, the day ended with him sitting in the middle of his living room floor, back perfectly straight, as someone put recordings of the King James scripture on his hi-fi. He would listen to the Words and weep. The recordings were actually more for everyone else there than Grandpa Stiewig. He, as a young man, had memorized the entire Bible, its truth guiding the rich days of his life.

Charley Singleton and his wife, Evie, raised ten children through the Great Depression, doing whatever work would put food on the table – plumbing, farming, owning a chili stand, and mining coal.

When I was a child, I didn’t know all his history, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway. I just knew my grandpa was so much fun. His house was always full of laughter – not stifled chuckles, but loud, long ripples of laughter.

Papa was full of joy because of his faith. As a layman, he had founded a church in Bridgeport, Texas, in 1916. He invited the community, and those who joined with him called a pastor, and a church was born.

That wasn’t a new, unusual thing for my grandpa. He had seen his father do the same thing in Oxford, Mississippi and his grandfather in Abbeville, Mississippi. In fact, two earlier generations had begun churches in North Carolina.

Though it was never anything that was expected in the Singleton family, it was certainly something that was in our hearts. Three more generations after Papa Singleton, my dad, C.B., then I, and, then, my son, Matt, all planted churches, as have several of our cousins around the country, as well. All of these churches are still meeting for worship.

One thing in Papa Singleton’s house always caught my eye when I was a boy. It said volumes about what he believed and how he lived his life. Engraved on a plaque hanging in the dining room was Joshua 24:15 – “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

These two men, from both sides of my family tree, and so significant in my life story, never crossed paths, except for a few days in April, 1914, in Hot Springs, Arkansas. At that time, they were both in attendance at the organizational meeting of the Assemblies of God, and, if they met or spoke to each other there, neither one of them could recall it. Their love of God’s Word and its priority in their lives, though, blended to impact my life and the lives of the generations after me. One of the eternal aspects of Scripture is that when it is lived out in people’s lives, it is evident and attractive to others around them.

The Bible lives in the legacy of faith.