Two Names, Two Natures

Clair, the name I go by, is my middle name and comes from my father's father. Elmer is my first name and comes from my mother's father. Usually such family names are given to the oldest of the family; I received them as a child in the middle. Much of my early life I spent wondering how I ended up with what I considered, at times, to be a curse; I grew up in the era of "Elmer Fudd" and "Clarabelle the Clown". My wife says that I must have given my mother a horrible time at birth.

However, truth be told, I have learned to appreciate the heritage. I am not only comfortable with my name, but am thankful for it. I have a granddaughter, Claire; not many grandfathers are able to boast such a blessing.

My mother's father, Elmer, was the only one, other than institutional entities, to call me by my first name. Actually it was a paraphrased version of my first name, "Little Elmer".

He never announced an affinity to the "Christ" of our family nor Christ's body, the Church. An alcoholic, sporadic in his love, shallow in his commitment, husband of six women, he portrayed a sort of narcissism that scripture, at least as popularly applied, rebukes. I wonder if he ever understood that God is attracted to those who have weaknesses such as his.

My father's father, on the other hand, was a kind of antithesis to Grandpa Elmer. Grandpa Emory Claire understood God's relationship to personal need and weaknesses. Because of that understanding he gave himself to ministry of the lay persuasion. As a young man he pastored two United Brethren Churches in Western Idaho, was instrumental in planting two other churches, and was involved in one of my own church plants.

When we lived with him I was a recent graduate of Bible school and waiting for a job. It was discouraging. Who wants to move his family to live with a retired grandpa? Grandpa knew I appreciated his "donation" to our development , yet he sensed my increased discouragement. To lift my spirits, he woke the household every morning singing, "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings of eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint. Teach me, Lord. Teach me, Lord, to wait."

Several years later, I had the privilege of being the audience for our two-year-old grandson, Eli, while he sang those same words at bedtime.

While Grandpa Emory Claire was semi-comatose on his death bed, unaware of his surroundings, he recited Chapter one of the Gospel of John. His eyes would open. His lips would recall, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." His eyes would close. His lips would cease moving. Again, his eyes would open and his lips would resume his recitation from where he had stopped.

It was his influence that provided adequate ministry to lead my mother into faith in Christ and, ultimately, provided her leadership in the spiritual development of my father, siblings, and me.

Although nobody's name truly defines them, mine provides an anecdotal introduction to my personal struggles with an inclination against godliness, but an affinity, provided by God the Holy Spirit, toward understanding God's grace toward me.

As a follower of Jesus, it is my life's purpose to grow in grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ and to be to others as God is to me. I have failed on many levels, but am growing into God's place for me in this life and am confident in Christ's place for me in the next.