Some of the most enduring influences in a child’s life are more steady, faithful, and quiet than they are loud and bombastic. When I think about my own spiritual formation, I don’t first think of some charismatic leader or great sermon that I heard. I think of my grandfather, my “Papaw” Grove.
Shaped by Quiet Tenderness
My Papaw was born in the hills of southern Indiana and raised in the home of a godly mother. “Mom Grove,” as we all called her, was a shouting, hanky-waving worshiper. In fact, some of my earliest memories are of her. Dad Grove was a nominal Christian at best, but a few years before he died, he left a clear testimony of saving faith. Sadly, he died two years before I was born.
My grandfather was always tender-hearted and conscientious. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and war was declared, he knew he would probably be drafted, and so he and his younger brother joined the Navy. My great-uncle Harrod Grove is now 101 years old—and still living alone, at that!
I once asked my grandpa why he joined the Navy, and he gave me two reasons. First, he had heard they had better food! Second, he was so tender-hearted and conscientious that he didn’t want to kill anyone. So he joined the newly formed construction battalion known as the Seabees, officially known as the Construction Battalions (CBs).
That has always stayed with me. My Papaw was willing to sacrifice and to serve. He was willing to go where his country needed him. But even in the middle of a terrible war, he wanted to remain true to his conscience. He had a tender heart, and that tenderness was not weakness. It was part of the man he was.
That tenderness is how I remember him. I remember my Papaw as a gentle, tender-hearted man. He was not loud or imposing. He didn’t need to be. There was a gentleness about him that made you feel safe, loved, and valued. And though I may not have understood it fully as a child, I now realize how deeply that quiet tenderness shaped me.
I can still see him praying for me—those simple, unhurried prayers that made God feel near and real. Nearly every prayer began with, “Our gracious, loving Heavenly Father…”
Many times we would be driving down the road in his old pickup truck and suddenly he would begin to weep. I would look up from my Hardy Boys book and ask him what was wrong, and he would say, “I’m just worshipping.” His spiritual antennas were always up!
I remember him taking me to church camp because he believed that being around God’s people and in the presence of God mattered for my soul. My parents were not Christians, so if I was going to be surrounded by godly influences, my grandparents would have to make sure I had those opportunities.
To this day, some of the greatest memories of my life and some of the best friends I’ve had were connected to Pilgrim Holiness Camp. It was there, in Anderson, Indiana, on June 20, 1988, that I, a fifteen-year-old boy, knelt at an altar of prayer, wept, and placed my faith in Christ.
My Papaw was a gifted preacher, but even more than that, he was an incredible singer. In 1952, he bought a 1947 Gibson Southern Jumbo acoustic guitar. That guitar and a Stanley thermos of sweet tea went everywhere he did! I own that guitar today and still play it. When I was a boy, I thought every song he sang was a song he had written. I didn’t discover otherwise until I was nearly twenty!
Grandparents are not spiritual spectators; they are covenant witnesses, memory-keepers, and faith-shapers.
To this day, I think about those songs and the way they shaped my siblings and me. Songs like “Suppertime,” “Ship Ahoy!,” “The Love of God,” “When I Prayed Through,” and “If You Believe.” I can still hear him singing them. Those songs planted truths in my heart that have stayed with me all these years.
The Generational Chain of Faith
Looking back, I understand something Scripture has always made clear: grandparents are not spiritual spectators; they are covenant witnesses, memory-keepers, and faith-shapers. The Bible does not treat the role of grandparents as peripheral. Instead, it places them within the generational chain of faith.
One of the clearest examples is found in 2 Timothy 1:5, where Paul writes: “I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also.”
Timothy’s ministry began in a home where faith had been passed from one generation to the next. His grandmother’s faith was visible, spoken, and lived, and eventually that faith took root in her grandson. Even Paul recognized that.
Psalm 78:4–6 gives us the same generational vision: “Tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD… so the next generation would know them.”
We are called to tell the next generation what God has done.
The faith is not meant to stop with us. We are called to tell the next generation what God has done so that they, in turn, might know him and tell the generation that follows.
Proverbs 17:6 adds another beautiful picture: “Children’s children are a crown to the aged.”
Deuteronomy 4:9 reminds God’s people, “Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”
Faith is meant to be received, lived, and passed on.
And now the years have passed. It was twenty years ago this year that my Papaw passed away. And now I am a grandpa. The reality of passing on a legacy has hit me in ways I never fully understood before, and I find myself asking: What am I passing on to my grandchildren?
Investing Spiritually in Grandchildren
Here are some concrete ways grandparents can invest spiritually in grandchildren:
- Pray intentionally and personally. Don’t just say, “Bless my grandchildren.” Name them. Pray specifically for their faith, their character, their future spouses, their protection, and their calling. Pray Scripture over them. Bring their names and needs before God regularly and intentionally.
- Share your story of God’s faithfulness. Your testimony is formative. Tell your grandchildren how God has carried you through hardship, answered your prayers, provided when you had a need, and sustained you when your faith was tested. Tell them the stories of God’s faithfulness in your own life. Show them the verses in your Bible that you have underlined, marked, and memorized. Let them see that your faith is not merely something you believe; it is something you have lived.
- Create spiritual rhythms in their lives. That may mean attending church together, taking them to a church camp, reading Scripture when they visit, or simply talking about God in the ordinary moments of life. Spiritual formation often happens through simple, repeated rhythms. It may even mean picking up a guitar like my grandpa did and breaking into a song: “O love of God, how rich and pure! How measureless and strong! / It shall forevermore endure: The saints’ and angels’ song!” Sometimes the things that seem small and ordinary to us are the very things our grandchildren will remember for the rest of their lives.
- Model heartfelt worship; don’t just go through the motions. Let your grandchildren see you passionately sing, pray, repent, forgive, and trust God. Authentic faith is more powerful than polished instruction. The old saying is true: “More is caught than taught.”
- Leave behind a legacy of faithfulness. Be like my Papaw.
A Legacy of Faithfulness
The night my Papaw passed away, he was in a nursing home. I received a phone call from the nurse telling me that he was gone. I called my mother and siblings and rushed over to the nursing home. I went into his room, where he lay, and held his now lifeless hands.
Those big hands were still calloused from years of hard labor as a mechanic. Those tender hands that had wiped away my tears when I was scared and tickled me to get me out of bed were now still.
The nurse came in and told me what had happened. Papaw had just finished supper and was being wheeled back to his room when suddenly he couldn’t catch his breath. He continued to struggle, so they laid him in his bed and propped him up. As they did, he suddenly raised himself up and said, “I love you, Jesus. You’ve been so good to me, Jesus. Jesus, I love you.” And he was gone. He died with Christ on his lips because he had lived with Christ in his heart.
I have no idea how much time I have left or how many years I will have to invest in my grandson. But I do know this: I want my grandson to know that Jesus Christ is the center of my life. I want him to hear me pray, hear me sing, see me worship, and watch me trust God. I want him to know that his Papaw loves him deeply, but even more, that his Papaw loves Jesus. And if, years from now, he remembers me the way I remember my Papaw, then I will have left him something far more valuable than anything I could ever leave him in an inheritance. I will have left him a legacy of faith.
