In November 1982, my grandfather, Gary Nelsen became the Senior Pastor of a dying church in Springfield, Illinois. Before he had even set up his office on Outer Park Drive, the Lord gave him a vision that Cherry Hills would grow to 500 people. But in order for that to be possible, Grandpa sensed the need to teach people how to love one another. “Learning to be the loving and inviting family of God” was more than the church’s mission. It became the culture.

My Grandpa was a shepherd. He loved people. It gave him great joy to learn about people’s stories. Names and their meanings mattered to him. He worked a lot even after he retired, but I remember he’d stop to read books with me. We would laugh so hard I’d cry at the different voices he’d try to do. When I was in college, we formed our own honorary book club, and he’d have me read books he was given by the people he’d befriended. There was one book he was gifted that I thought he was crazy for having me read, called Accidental Saints. When I told him how much I hated it and disagreed with the entire premise, he laughed and told me about one thing he learned from it. He always seemed to find something interesting to take away from every person he met.

He taught me to be a learner.

He taught me to ask God about what was true. He taught me how to process hard things. On a Tuesday in September 2001, we stood in his living room and he talked to God for us as we watched the towers and people fall. I watched him process grief and sadness. He was always honest about it. I watched him pray and give thanks. I watched him work in his home office on Andover Drive, Bible open. I learned there was only one right way to butter toast.

He helped me understand the meaning of Christmas and the joy of giving over receiving. He showed me how to ask about other people. He modeled how to grow in your marriage, even in your eighties. He taught me about the Cardinals and how the planting season in Iowa worked. But mostly, he showed me how to have conversational prayer with Jesus.

In his final months, he grieved that all the Scripture he had once memorized and hidden in his heart seemed to have vanished from his memory. I told him he was wrong. It wasn’t hiding anymore, and it hadn’t left him. It is now living in people like me. He imparted a love for the Bible to the next generation. He passed on the gift of a relationship with Jesus found within the pages.

The last several weeks, I’ve had so many questions about what I’m really supposed to be doing with my time and opportunities. I still wonder if I’m doing this right. If I’m doing enough or making the most of my gifts. And then I remember Grandpa and how he wrote out his mission for the Church. Learning to be the loving and inviting family of God. Learning to be is a process. Grandpa was a faithful learner. So I can be, too.

In 1998, sixteen years after Grandpa heard from God, 500 people regularly attended Cherry Hills and experienced living hope. I’m so glad he answered that call.

Today, he answered a different call. The Shepherd has finally called him home.

Well done, Grandpa Gary. I love you. I’ll keep up our Book Club till I see you again.

Love,

Your granddaughter, Nat