My grandfather lived out Christianity as well as anyone I’ve ever known. Well, sort of.

The man was the father of under complicating things, to a fault. His faith was no different. It was like he read Matthew 22 one day and said “Greatest two commandments, got it. That’s all I need to know.”

I like to say he got the big things right. He certainly couldn’t judge others. He and his friends wouldn’t have been allowed in the church at Corinth, even as visitors. He’d evict a tenant from a property because they were $1,000 behind on rent and send them a check for $2,000 to get them back on their feet. He invented new ways to use the four-letter words, but that Three-Letter Word was never out of context.

He didn’t pretend to be perfect. I’m not even sure he tried to be “righteous”. But he knew how to love, because that’s what “the Master” said was most important to Him.

He died when I was 18, and it’s probably a good thing. Because I’ve spent the last 21 years trying to quit most of the things he taught me how to do. Except for loving God and loving others. No one ever taught me that any better.