Family and the Narrow Way

“God setteth the solitary in families….” -Psalm 68:6

Relatives and close family members can be both a blessing and a curse. I remember my much older cousin, Gerald, who would come out to our farm when I was a boy and would go rabbit hunting with me in the winter time. Now I could go rabbit hunting anytime I wanted to all by myself. I just seldom did. But when Gerald wanted to participate, it was a high, energy-packed affair that I would not have missed for anything. There were jokes and stories and a thing called male camaraderie; a term I would not have known at that age, but something very real I experienced and relished. It was richer still because we were both Nordmoes; men of the same bloodline, stomping through the winter snow, with guns, celebrating each kill with mutual praise.

Not all was goodness and light within the Nordmoe clan, however. Blessed with several aunts and uncles within a close geographic area, there was always someone not speaking to someone. I listened in on numerous stories of the quirks, foibles, and, at times, extremely hurtful things that were said and done, one to another. I remember one of my favorite uncles falling under the spell of alcohol for a time and putting his whole family through some years of agony and embarrassment. Then there was the crazy aunt who decided to open a restaurant with the gracious help of several extended family members. She may have known how to cook but was absolutely hapless when it came to working with people, most especially family. The grand experiment was short lived with a host of hurt feelings left in its wake.

As a young boy, I remember numerous boring afternoons spent sitting in the homes of my childless aunts and uncles as we made the obligatory visits. Those with cousins were a welcome relief, for the most part, considering that most of them were girls. I endured the aunt who insisted on kissing me. I resented at times the invalid grandmother who spent months living with us. She restricted our family freedom, never spoke to me, and smelled like an old person. Then there was the grandfather who picked trick or treat night to get in an accident far out of town and died shortly after we arrived at the hospital. Spoiled all my great plans. He never spoke to me either, but always there was some obligation to attend to him, the mysterious recluse.

All together, my extended family was quite a collection of average folk with a sprinkle of misfits, misers, loners, perfectionists, gadflies; all born with a general family propensity for stubbornness and aloofness that streaked them all. It was more my nature to run from them than to them. And even now as a grown and soon to be old man, I marvel how our family gatherings seem to gravitate to the funny stories we tell on one another. Our idiosyncrasies are well known throughout the family. So how is it that we should think it a good thing to live together in community? Why on earth would we want to purposefully tie ourselves in with other Christians when we can’t even get along with our own kin? Why sign up for more pain, frustration, and ties that restrict? And God wants to set the solitary in families like that’s a good thing?

I have been dwelling this weekend on how it actually is a good thing, even after spending three whole days holed up in a two bedroom cabin with five other adults and 4 grandchildren. Look at it this way. We have a hollowness at our core, a sin nature that prefers darkness to light. When left alone, we are at our worst. Who would think of swearing in church? Of course not. We have little trouble living the Christian life on Sunday mornings. Even within the family, we experience restraints that keep us in the narrow way. Cain would not have killed Abel had they been in the presence of Adam and Eve. So it is that fatherless boys are so much more likely to end up in prison. We chafe at the restrictions that family members put upon us, especially when they are irritating and spiteful. But even then, they confront us with real life versus the escapism that would tempt us to a life of obscurity where our evil deeds could be hidden under a veil of secrecy and anonymity. God knows best. There is safety in the flock. We need each other if only to bring out the best in us when challenged by another’s weakness. Now, if only I could sell that to teen-agers.

Mercy and Truth,

Mr. Moe