At the end of January my grandfather passed away. Most of you never met him. Those that did knew him as a remarkable man who lived a remarkable life. As I processed this loss, I turned to writing to process the grief. The following thoughts are the result and I share them with you to encourage you in your own walk to follow Jesus.
Glenn Donald Metzler. To some he was Dr. Metzler, Supervisor, Pastor, and mentor. To others he was a friend, a brother, a father, and a husband. To me he was Grandpa. Through his 94 years on this planet his life touched and changed thousands of people, some more intimately than others. The legacy he left in the church, with his friends, and with his family is innumerable. I cannot recall memories of my formative years without Grandpa and Granny bumping into the frame. Even if they are not part of the specific memory, their life and influence can be seen throughout. I remember him as a man who loved fiercely, teased constantly, and genuinely cared for the people who crossed his path. He may have been small in stature, but he had a big heart and a larger sense of humor.
As I have reflected on what he meant to me, my mind has returned again and again to one question: what mattered most? As I have thought about his story on this earth, I have dwelt on the fact that none of it matters without the one thing that mattered most to Grandpa; to walk daily with Jesus. Without that choice Grandpa never attends LIFE Bible College, he never travels as an evangelist, and he never meets his lifelong love and partner, Norma, who miss spelled his name on the revival sign. Without that meeting they never had two wonderful daughters, they never pastor a single church, they never minister to pastors in a five-state region as District Supervisor. That is just a short list, a brief accounting of signpost moments that defined his life and ministry, but even that does not serve justice to his legacy. This accounting does not include what mattered most to me: the daily choice to walk with Jesus that resulted in countless prayers, words of encouragement, and so many other acts of kindness, grace, and humility that defined who he was and how he loved.
It was these little moments that shaped my relationship with him and helped me to form my own walk with Jesus. I had the privilege many did not. I had the joy of spending afternoons and weekends with him, spending holidays with him, running errands with him, and travelling with him, sometimes solo, but most often with Granny and other cousins. We would work together out in the yard, shoveling snow, staining the deck, or myriad of other chores. As a teen I did not always enjoy the labor, but I always was glad to have the time with him and Granny. Those workdays usually meant a meal or a trip to Michelles for malts and shakes. Because of him I learned to like cheese curds, chicken gizzards, horehound candy, and fried bologna sandwiches. On our many adventures we would often stop at Wendys or for ice cream, and to this day I cannot have a milkshake or a spicy chicken sandwich from Wendys without thinking of him. I am most blessed to have had the opportunity to just live life with him to see that the man he was in the pulpit was the same man at the dinner table.
When we did travel, one of my favorite memories is that he gave me the job of weatherman. It was my “job” to direct the inclement weather away from our path of travel. I am proud to say he teasingly said I was successful. Yet when I did fail at this job, which was often, his Kansas boy litmus test for if the weather was going to clear was if there was enough blue sky to make a Dutchman a pair of overalls. As the official weatherman, he would ask me if I thought there was enough blue, and I would almost always respond “Well, Grandpa, that depends on the size of the Dutchman.”
When traveling, we had many adventures including going to youth camp, visiting the St. Louis Arch, going to Silver Dollar City, weekend treks to Woodland Park, and so many more. However, the part I loved the most in hindsight is visiting the churches across the district. I cherished the opportunity to see how he spoke to and encouraged those around him. I especially enjoyed the opportunity of hearing him preach. He had a presence and a passion, some might call it an anointing, to teach the Word succinctly. I can still clearly hear one specific sermon on 1 Cor. 15 as he exhorted us to be “Steadfast and Immovable!” He was never my pastor, but I still sometimes find myself assessing sermons against his.
All these adventures took time. I know he was a busy man, and I am thankful for the time I had to spend with him. I do not know half of what he was responsible for as supervisor of the Midwest District nor with the Foursquare Church. He was far busier than youthful me ever imagined, yet never once did I feel like he did not have time for me. Whatever the reality of what he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, he always made me believe that family, that I, was a priority. I saw the same with the pastors and people he would minister to and interact with. Whoever he was talking to was the most important person in the room. Even in the most challenging situations he could weave wisdom and whimsy, humor and humility, and love and levity in a way that you knew he genuinely cared for and loved you.
Then all that wit, wisdom, humor, and levity was stolen from him. His prolonged illness and his death are reminders that the world is a broken place. There is a darkness here that sometimes seems overwhelming, but Grandpa knew the Light that dispels all darkness. He was an amazing example of what Eugene Peterson calls a Long Obedience in the Same Direction. He was not perfect, but he lived this life seeking to walk with his Saviour. My grandpa knew this world is broken, he saw the darkness, but he chose daily to know Jesus, to shine the light, and to trust Him through the darkest nights. As I have reflected on his life, his legacy, I find myself not drawn to the vastness of the number of people he touched but rather to the day-to-day impact he had. I could fill books with stories and memories that tell how deeply his life is imprinted on mine, a stamp that with every line weaves a theme; that above all else what matters is to know Christ and to make Him known. For Grandpa this was not just spoken in the pulpit but was lived consistently in everyday moments and interactions. I will miss him deeply and the example he set, yet I am so thankful for the tools he imparted of faith, of hope, and of love. That above all else is what I will cherish most.
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