One of my hobbies is genealogy. I have been tracing my ancestry (along with that of my husband and my in-laws) for many years. I am fortunate, in that I know who my parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents were, when and where they were born, and when and where they died. Most my ancestors lived in the same area for at least five generations, some for seven or eight generations.
I know many others who struggle with genealogy, or have lost interest in “finding their roots.” Some are adopted, or their parents were adopted. The records have been sealed, or worse, lost, and they cannot find out even the name of a parent or grandparent to trace. Others have a murky and mysterious family history– someone in their family was illegitimate or born out of wedlock and no biological father can be confirmed.
Almost everyone who works on genealogy has, as one point, “hit a wall.” There are some people whose history is lost. They moved frequently, or they lived in a city or town where records were destroyed by fire or flood; some changed their name to avoid persecution or prosecution–some where enslaved and their names erased against their will; some lived at the edge of the wilderness, where few records were kept, and fewer still survived; some died young; some were illiterate, and left no written records. Many families have boxes or albums filled with unidentified (and unidentifiable) photos.
Some genealogists “hit gold.” They find in their family history a famous person from the past– a king or queen, military hero, chieftain, statesman, scientist, artist– some person of note. Often, however, these “finds” turn out to be red herrings. Early in my research, I thought I had stumbled on to a line of descent from one of the passengers on the Mayflower. How exciting! Except I had followed the wrong line. Two men of the same name in the same town had been born just two years apart. I had found the “right” name in a book about the Mayflower descendants, but it wasn’t actually the “right” one. A similar thing happened with the name of a signer of the Declaration of Independence. I even had a cousin who insisted that this signer was our direct ancestor. But it turned out to be incorrect. We WERE related to the signer, but not descended from him. It turns out he was a great-granduncle of our ancestor.
Human genealogy can be a rewarding pursuit, or a frustrating one. But our spiritual genealogy can be crystal clear, and is full of exciting news! Our Father is the King of Kings! We don’t have to wonder who He is or whether we will be accepted and listed as a family member. His grace extends to everyone who believes on Him– and it comes with the fullness of being His Children for all eternity.
When I pray to My Father, that is not just a polite or wishful phrase. God IS my father– just like my human father, only eternal and omnipotent! I have inherited various traits from both my fathers–creativity, wonder, curiosity, a sense of purpose and responsibility, love for others and for the world around me, love of music and nature, and a love of puns(!)–and I am an heir to all the riches of my Heavenly Father’s mercy and grace. I am a descendant of all the heroes of the Faith– not physically through human birth, but by spiritual re-birth– a daughter of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. All that God promised to them, He shares with me. Not because I deserve them, or could ever earn them; because He has made it so.
Whatever your genealogy today–whether you know it, or take pride in it, or despair of it–you can live in the awe of being a beloved and privileged child of the King! And He wants to chat with you today!
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