family — Page 3

A God-fearing Father (III)

September 5, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This series of blogs shares my remembrances of the life and death of my father, John Beeke (d. 1993).

We cannot enter heaven because we are office-bearers in the church, but we must die bearing office—bearing the office of the priesthood of all believers. When matters are right in the life of office-bearers, they may serve the church out of the deeply rooted reality of a personal, saving relationship with the Lord.

By grace, this became visible in our father’s life. Born in Krabbendijke, the Netherlands, his family emigrated to America when he was seven years old, and settled in Kalamazoo, Michigan. He married Johanna VanStrien at the age of nineteen; they were blessed with fifty-three years of marriage. He was brought under saving convictions at the age of twenty-seven when the Lord blessed to his soul a loaned volume by Rev. G. VanReenen, De Woestijnreis der Kinderen Israels (now available in English as Israel’s Wilderness Journey). All his life he loved to read this godly minister’s writings; it is remarkable that his earthly pilgrimage also ended while reading one of his sermons, based on Luke 22:44.

During his late twenties and early thirties the conviction that he was without God, Christ, and hope in the world intensified. He was led more deeply into a knowledge of his actual sins in thoughts, words, and deeds. At the age of thirty-three he was elected deacon. This caused him much strife, as he had not yet been brought into spiritual liberty in Christ Jesus. The task was impossible and he felt he had to decline, but in the end the Lord inclined his heart to give himself for the work through a personal application of Proverbs 16:33, “The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.”

Sometime during 1953, the only year he would serve as deacon, he felt called to the ministry. Several months later, he was placed as a candidate for the eldership. I still remember the time when he showed me in the hallway of our old home where the Lord revealed to him that his calling was not for the ministry, but to be an elder. He was installed in January of 1954, and was serving in his thirty-ninth year as elder when he passed away.

The year after he was installed as elder was a difficult one for my father as he still knew very little of Christ experimentally. In fact, after he prayed on one occasion from the pulpit an older brother elder asked him, “Did you ever see a baby in a buggy with a beard?” He then instructed my father that he could tell from his prayers that he still needed to be led into a personal acquaintance with original sin. In plain words, he was praying further than he was led. It pleased the Lord to bless this instruction and to lead him more deeply into his original sin later that year through reading Thomas Boston’s Human Nature in its Fourfold State—especially applying that part where Boston reveals how every single commandment was broken in our deep fall in Paradise. Then the fall became his fall; he became, spiritually speaking, “Adam” before God. The spirituality of the law became real; he was cut off from his own righteousness, and signed his death sentence that the holy and just God was righteous to cast him away forever.

Then he experienced, “Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith” (Gal. 3:24). The Lord revealed Christ to his soul as the only and all-sufficient Savior for poor sinners. He was driving home at the time; he pulled off the road and wept profusely as the Lord opened to him the active and passive obedience of His dear Son for the greatest of transgressors.

It was not until the last decade of his life, however, that he was brought into considerable and more consistent evangelical liberty in Christ for his own soul. This evidenced itself in a more solid assurance and a daily, closer walk with the Master. During these final years, he could not hear Christ preached fully enough, freely enough. Christ became exceedingly precious and beautiful; he saw everything in Him, and in and through Him, in the triune God. He relished hearing the rich invitations of the gospel and the free, unconditional offer of grace. The whole counsel of God as experienced through death in Adam and life in Christ became more indispensable than ever before. In these last years it became obvious to all who knew him well that Christ was increasing and he was decreasing. The Lord was making him ripe for glory.

A God-fearing Father (II)

September 4, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This series of blogs shares my remembrances of the life and death of my father, John Beeke (d. 1993).

On Wednesday, three days after my father died, we needed fresh strength to conduct the funeral. Early that morning our dear mother was given grace to surrender our father into the Lord’s hands. How strengthening it was to hear her say on a good foundation just before my ascending the pulpit, “I can no longer wish him back!” The funeral message was based on Revelation 7:15, “Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple: and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.” Our major theme was “The Redeemed before the Throne of God.” We considered three thoughts: (1) who are before the throne of God—they who had come out of great tribulation, especially soul tribulation (Rev. 7:14); (2) why they are before the throne of God—”therefore,” that is, because out of sovereign grace their robes are washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb (v. 14); (3) what they experience before the throne of God—the Lamb in the midst of the throne and an eternal serving of Him in the heavenly temple (v. 15b; also vv. 16–17).

At the graveside, my two brothers led the committal service. Elder James Beeke (from Chilliwack) spoke on Psalm 103:13, “Like as a father pitieth His children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear Him.” Elder John R. Beeke (from St. Catharines) spoke some concluding words, thanked the friends for their support, and closed with prayer. The Lord gave help in the midst of sorrow.

As far as our dear father himself is concerned, he could not have asked for a better death. He died, as an elder said to me, “while in harness,” yes, while engaged in doing what was the love of his heart and his very life—the Lord’s cause and service. As a brother deacon in Kalamazoo said, “In his last prayer on earth he asked for a crumb, and received a crown.” He is above all strife.

A God-fearing Father (I)

August 31, 2012 By Joel Beeke

I received so many responses from my posts about my late mother that it seems good for me to share also about my father. The following posts are adapted from what I wrote as a pastoral letter for my congregation the week after the sudden passing away of our dear father, John Beeke, while he was leading the Sunday morning worship in Kalamazoo, Michigan on March 14, 1993. It was not easy to write this, but I felt compelled to do so, and I pray that even now many years later God would bless many through it.

I do not write about memories of and lessons from our deceased father in any way to exalt him; rather, my desire is that God may be glorified and that we may all learn from the experiences and examples of God’s people.

On Sunday morning, March 14, 1993, a brother deacon handed me the following note a few minutes before the end of the sermon: “While reading a sermon this morning your father had a heart attack. He is on his way to the hospital now. He is not so good.”

I felt immediately that this was my dear father’s hour of translation from the church militant to the church triumphant. Thus, we were not surprised when we arrived in the emergency room an hour later in Kalamazoo to hear our dear mother say through tears, “He’s gone.”

And yet . . . we are never ready for death. We cling to the smallest remnant of hope—especially when it is one of our loved ones. Oh, the awesome, unnatural finality of death! Death always arrives sooner than we reckon. It always comes as a shock. Death hits us hard and heavily. We confess, “Thou hast showed Thy people hard things: Thou hast made us to drink the wine of astonishment” (Psa. 60:3).

You can understand that we wept many tears in those hours. We lost a teaching prophet, praying priest, and guiding king in our family circle. We lost a loving father, a spiritual companion, a bosom friend. Late that afternoon, the Lord gave some encouragement by directing us to Isaiah 40:8, “The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever.” We may believe that He also provided strength to preach from these words that same evening to the mourning consistory and flock of Kalamazoo who were all live witnesses of their elder’s death on the pulpit.

The following Monday and Tuesday evenings in the funeral home were unforgettable. After we heard numerous testimonies from those who were blessed by our father’s teaching and visits, these encouraging words of Paul kept pressing themselves upon our soul: “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Cor. 15:58). God’s Word will not return to Him void, but will accomplish His good pleasure (Is. 55:11).

In future posts, I will share more about my father’s life and death.

Conference and Family Joys

August 27, 2012 By Joel Beeke

Joel Beeke, Derek Thomas, Burk Parsons, Bart Elshout, and David Murray

What a blessed and packed weekend this has been! First was the Puritan Reformed Theology Seminary conference on “The Beauty and Glory of God the Father,” which went far better than I expected. Nearly 500 people attended. Dr. Derek Thomas’s closing address alone was worth the price of the conference. Addresses can be heard on sermonaudio.com.

Derek Thomas and Me

Then our son Calvin became engaged to Laura Sweetman—to our great joy! One hour after she showed us her ring, my oldest daughter, Esther, came home with a birthstone ring from her boyfriend, James Engelsma—again to our great joy!

Calvin, Laura, Lydia, Esther, James, Mary, and Me

In addition to two sermons, and a Youth Group meeting, yesterday was packed with visitors, family, and friends who attended the conference. And this morning, Esther left for Lithuania for a semester of study (yes, my wife and I both cried), while our youngest daughter, Lydia, was leaving on the bus for her first day of 11^th grade. Meanwhile, I rushed back from the airport to give an opening address on “Eleven Commandments for Theological Students” for the fall semester (which will be posted at www.puritanseminary.org). And now I need to rush down to Kalamazoo to meet with my brothers and sisters who have also come from British Columbia and Ontario to divide up the few possessions that our dear Mother left behind. I’m so glad that the treasury of prayers she left behind was far greater than her treasury of earthly things!

Camp Michawana, Michigan

August 10, 2012 By Joel Beeke

The last few days the Free Reformed Church of Grand Rapids, Michigan have been holding their family camp at beautiful Camp Michawana, about a one hour drive from Grand Rapids. I gave two addresses there—one on “Lessons for Marriage” and one on “Lessons for Child-rearing,” drawing from Ephesians 5 and 6, the Puritans, and my own experience.

Other speakers included Russell Herman, a third year student at Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary, who spoke on “My Brother’s Keeper” and “Soul-Mate Friendship,” and Rev. Mark Kelderman, newly appointed Dean of Students and Spiritual Formation at PRTS, who spoke on “The Essential Union”—that is, the union between Christ and His bride.

About 150 parents and children attended, and gave their full attention to the addresses. They also asked great questions during the Q&A time. A happy, content, God-fearing atmosphere pervaded the camp.

The Legacy of My God-Fearing Mother (IV)

August 9, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This post is the last installment of my reflections upon the godliness of my late mother, Johanna Beeke (d. July 23, 2012).

4. Contentment. When I was about 12 years old, I had a friend who mentioned that he didn’t want to ask his mother for a favor at the moment because she wasn’t in “a good mood.” That comment puzzled me greatly. I honestly didn’t know what the word “mood” meant; I had never seen my mother moody or frustrated.

Mother always seemed cheerful and content—in fact, so content that at times it frustrated me. If something bad happened to me, and I would come to her for pity, she would often respond by saying, “It could be worse.” One day this was too much for me: “But Mother,” I said with great irritation, “you can say that about everything.” “That’s right,” she calmly replied, without a hint of irritation, “it always could be worse because God never gives us things as bad as we deserve.” “But Mother…” I protested. Calmly she interrupted me, quoting Paul: “I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content.” That text stopped the pity party in a moment.

Mother’s contentment was also evident in her thankfulness. She was one of the most thankful people I have ever known. She would thank you for everything you did for her, even the smallest thing. Thanksgiving filled her heart, and spilled over into her life with ease. She could thank as easily as she could say, “I’m sorry”—even when she had nothing to be sorry about!

5. Purity—that is, in terms of devoutness and godliness. Mother, by Christ’s grace, developed not only holy habits, but even natural habits that revealed a simple, almost naïve, purity. She was disciplined not only in her Bible-reading, but also in her eating habits (to a fault!), disciplined in her daily walks, disciplined in her daily routines of exercise. She was still exercising her arms and legs only a few months before her death. Everything about her life seemed so organized, so simple, so pure, so clean, so sweet, that it seemed like the aroma of Christ exuded from her.

Actually, there may be no better way to describe Mother than to cite the list in Galatians 5:22–23 of the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.” Each of these fruits was abundant in her life.

I thank God that by His grace, He gave me a mother whose life displayed the fruit of the Spirit.

The legacy, the heritage, the mantle is now passed on to us. We now become the older generation. Time waits for no one; no mere human being is the master of time. Sooner than we know, someone will be conducting our funerals. May we, by God’s grace, be found worthy of such a legacy, and faithful in receiving such a mantle. Mother left her mark on our lives, all of us, and the best monument we can raise to her memory is to follow her as she followed Christ, and extend her influence to many other lives, and to the generations to come.

The Legacy of My God-Fearing Mother (III)

August 8, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This blog is the third installment of reflections upon the character of my mother, Johanna Beeke (d. July 23, 2012).

3. Kindness. Mother was incredibly kind. “The law of kindness” was in her heart, and therefore on her tongue and in all her facial expressions. When company was present, she would not forget about us. When we had a room full of God’s people in our home, which often happened when I was a boy, and I would catch her eye across the room, she would always smile warmly and kindly.

Perhaps I’m being forgetful, but I do not ever remember Mother criticizing anyone for anything. She said once to me, “You can talk about people as much as you want, as long as what you say is good.” Nor do I ever recall her speaking to me at any point in my life with any frustration, irritation, or anger in her voice.

When my wife asked her at her 80^th birthday, “Mother, do you have any advice to give about how to handle children when you feel frustrated? How did you handle that?” Mother thought for ten seconds, then smiled sympathetically, and said, “I’m afraid, dear, that I just can’t recall ever getting frustrated with them.” Now that answer (which by the way, really did not help my wife) didn’t mean, I assure you, that we were all such good kids, but because the grace of God sanctified her character, in her tongue was “the law of kindness” (Prov. 31:26). Perhaps that grace also sanctified her memory, so that she knew what to remember and what to forget!

I think Mother thought it was a double sin to criticize a minister because he is a servant of the Most High God. Since our church did not have a minister for many years, all the preachers that came to bring us God’s Word during most of those years would stay at our home. One of them even brought his dog, which I was by no means happy about, so I let my Mother know how I felt. She promptly rebuked me for criticizing even a minister’s dog!

Mother’s kindness radiated from her in scores of ways. When we were sick, she would often say—and meant it—that she wished she could be sick in our place. When a slice of toast got burnt, she was always the one to eat it. As children, when we left for school, she would wave to us from the front window for as long as she could see us. She always had time for us; she would ask us every day how school went.

I thank God that by His grace, He gave us a mother in whose tongue was “the law of kindness.”

The Legacy of My God-Fearing Mother (II)

August 7, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This blog continues my reflections on the piety of my mother, Johanna Beeke (d. July 23, 2012).

2. Lover of Scripture. Mother loved to read the Bible. That became all the more apparent in her declining years. Near the end, she would sleep twenty hours a day; her four hours awake were entirely devoted to eating and reading the Bible. What a witness she was to all who took care of her! Once I was thinking, “Why does the Lord still keep her alive?” Then, I heard one of the great-grandchildren said, “Grandma is such a witness to me. All she does is read her Bible.”

About a month before she passed on to her Savior and Lord, I said to her, “Mother, can you understand what you are reading?” “Oh yes, dear,” she said, with a knowing smile. “Do you still profit from it—does it still help you to read the Bible?” “Oh yes, dear,” she said with another knowing smile.

That same night, I read Revelation 21:1–9 to her. When I arrived at verse 6, I said to her, “Mother, do you know what Jesus means when He says, ‘I am Alpha and Omega’?” As soon as I asked this, I thought, “How foolish to ask her a question you know she can’t answer because of her memory loss,” but she responded immediately. “Doesn’t that mean,” she said, “that Jesus is both the first and the last in our lives?” “Yes, Mother; yes, that’s it—that’s everything!” I said.

Mother could not talk to us as freely as Dad could about the work of the Holy Spirit in her soul. But her love for the Word and her godly walk of life made that unnecessary. We all learned about experiential theology from Dad and about practical theology from Mother. Not until I was in the ministry did I realize what an extraordinary combination this was and what special parents we were blessed with.

Because Mother couldn’t talk as freely with us as Dad could, she would read Bible-based literature—especially Christ-exalting stories to us, every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes she would break down as she read these wonderful stories about how God exalts His own name in the hearts of sinners. Someone at the visiting hours yesterday told me that his oldest memory of Mother is when his family came from Ontario to stay with our family when he was six years old. “All I remember,” he said, “is that she read Christian stories to us so sincerely on Sunday afternoon.”

Mother’s love for the Word was also evident in her conscientious church attendance. We were raised with the understanding that hearing God’s Word in the house of God was life’s top priority. No matter how much homework we had, we never thought about asking if we could stay home when Rev. W. C. Lamain, pastor of the Grand Rapids NRC, would come to preach for us every Wednesday evening. When God’s Word was being expounded, we were there. Our parents believed that we were not only responsible for what we heard in God’s house, but if we chose to absent ourselves, we were also responsible for what we could have heard but chose not to hear.

Let us thank God that by His grace, He gave us a mother who loved the Word.

The Legacy of My God-Fearing Mother (I)

August 6, 2012 By Joel Beeke

My dear mother, Johanna Beeke, aged 92, passed on into the presence of her Savior, at 3:45 a.m. on July 23, 2012. Though words seem hollow right now, I have tried to write a little of the tremendous legacy she left us five children and our spouses. Some of this material I used for leading her funeral on July 28. Afterwards, I preached on John 14:1–3, the text that the Lord used to grant her some spiritual liberty in the early years of her conversion. The following day, July 29, I preached a follow-up sermon to the flock I serve in Grand Rapids, Michigan on Psalm 17:15, which is available on sermonaudio.com.

Over the next several posts I will try to communicate the legacy of godliness my mother left behind.

1. Prayerful—that would have to be the first descriptive word. In terms of consistently coming to the throne of grace, pleading for God’s mercy, Mother was the best prayer warrior I have ever known. When our parents had their 50^th anniversary, and we all decided to thank each of them for one thing without telling each other what we would say, that we all thanked Mother for praying for us. We all could feel as we grew up that she was praying earnestly for each of us. When we would get up in the morning, you would walk by the living room on the way to the kitchen to get breakfast, you would furtively glance into the living room, there to see through the shadows Mother on her knees. You felt that that prayer place was a sacred place of communion with God, where Mother did business with heaven on our behalf.

Once, as a young teenager, I recall vividly a certain occasion in which I was about to watch something with a friend that was not edifying. Just before I indulged in desensitizing my conscience, however, it was as if I saw Mother on her knees before me. The power of that image in my mind was such that, even though I was not saved, I told my friend I couldn’t watch what he wanted to watch.

Often Mother would pray at great length. Once I called Dad from Grand Rapids and said, “Do you mind if I come down to visit this evening, as I don’t have any obligations?” “That would be fine,” he said. “Can I just speak with Mother for a moment?” I said. “Well,” he hesitated, “she’s praying right now.” “Never mind then,” I said, “I will talk with her when I come.” When I arrived at our parents’ home 50 miles later, only my Dad greeted me. “Where’s Mother?” I asked. “She’s still praying,” he said.

I remember Dad telling me 26 years ago when I was still in New Jersey how Mother had prayed for us far more than we ever knew. Dad told me at that time in a very tender moment that she normally spent two hours on her knees every day. Most of that time was spent no doubt in praying for us as children. When she was in spiritual darkness, she once said to me, “Perhaps my soul would be in a better condition if I would have prayed as much for myself as I have prayed for you.”

I also remember overhearing a conversation at a church gathering, where an elder approached Dad to ask him, “What was the secret of your child-rearing since all of your children have come to know the Lord?” I will never forget his answer: “The grace of God and their mother’s prayers,” he said.

But you didn’t hear about that from Mother herself. When she turned 85 I asked her, “Mother, if you could live your life all over again, what would you do differently?” “Oh dear,” she said, “I would pray more.” That answer was so convicting—and enlightening. I have long noticed that the more we as believers are graced with God’s particular graces, the more we will feel how little we have of those very graces.

Mother’s prayers also encircled her dear grandchildren and great-grandchildren and great-great grandchild—all 128 of them. She loved them all, and prayed for them all. When she thought about how large our family had become, she was amazed at God’s grace. She would often say near the end when she was very forgetful and would seem surprised on every occasion when we told her how large the family as: “Can you beat that? And then to think that I was an only child!” Oh, how shall we ever realize the magnitude of the covenant mercies of our God that have been bequeathed to us through a praying mother!

I thank God that by His grace, He gave us a praying mother.

Tribute to a Praying Mother

July 31, 2012 By Joel Beeke

This month was bittersweet; it ended with the loss of our dear mother, Johanna Beeke, at the ripe age of 92, after a lengthy illness and many tearful goodbyes. As a family, we experienced in the loss of our dear mother that “man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets” (Eccl. 12:5). A huge empty place has been left behind in our family.

Our mother died in faith, with dignity, in Christ. We lost a praying mother, but we have not lost her prayers. Matthew Henry said of parents that they could far better leave behind for their children a treasury of prayers than a treasury of gold and silver. We have been blessed in this way as children more than almost anyone else we know on this earth. What a treasury is laid up in store for us in the prayers of our dear mother and father! And what responsibility is now ours! The legacy, the heritage, the mantle is now passed on to us.

The testimonies of many who came to the visiting hours the evening of July 27 and the following day about my mother were humbling, encouraging, and sometimes tear-producing all at once. On Saturday, I conducted the funeral for my dear mother, preaching on John 14:1–3, the first text that the Lord made very special to her after he had begun to work savingly in her soul. It was difficult at the beginning to contain my emotions, but as the text unfolded before me, the Lord gave an increasing measure of liberty. How bittersweet that hour was!

Before the funeral, my brother Jim spoke to the family. My mother, who had been an only child, had five children, thirty-five grandchildren, ninety-two great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild—133 in all! Though a number of the great-grandchildren were not able to be present, the family gathering was still sizable. I spoke at the graveside from Revelation 21:5, followed by my oldest brother John, who also thanked various people, and closed with prayer, after which we sang Psalter 203 (Ps. 73), and then fellowshipped at the NRC Christian School in Kalamazoo.

The following morning I preached at Cornerstone United Reformed Church in Hudsonville, and in the evening at our own church, on Psalm 17:15, “As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”

Throughout the month of July—perhaps the busiest month of my life—I have felt the sustaining hand of God in an unusual way. He enabled me to preach thirty times on three continents, with about 25,000 in attendance in all. To Him be all the praise and the glory! May eternity reveal the fruit. I now look forward to a much more calm and restful August in Grand Rapids, the Lord willing.

We’ll miss our dear mother’s sweet smile, her kindness, her godliness. We’ll miss caring for her. Dad used to often say to us, “You will never be able to repay all that your mother has done for you.” By God’s grace, we count it an honor as a family that we could repay a little, so that through 24/7 care in recent years she could stay in her own home until the end, which was always her desire. But now, how shall we begrudge her her place at our dear father’s side singing praise to the Triune God without any infirmity? She is now in the church triumphant forever! Soli Deo Gloria!

May God prepare us all to meet Him clothed in the white-robe righteousness of Immanuel. Dear friend, if Christ were to send His angel of death to harvest you today, would it be eternally well with your soul? Are you resting for this life and a better in Christ’s righteousness alone?