Streams in the Desert

It is a profitable exercise to consider the many providences of God that He ordained to bring a person to faith in Christ.  This includes not only the proximate ones but also those that are more distant.  There are many long streams that supply the river of God’s saving grace into a person’s life.

William French was my mother’s maternal grandfather.  He lived into his nineties, and I knew him when I was in elementary school.  He carried a black leather coin purse and would often give a dime to my cousin, my sister and me when we visited.  He lived nearby with my grandmother and grandfather in the house that he built.  He was a plasterer and one of his great projects was the ornate Masonic Temple in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  He emigrated from Eastbourne, England as a young man and, over some years, brought many relatives to the United States.  Eastbourne is east of London, on the Channel, very close to France.  With this location and the name, French, I wonder whether his ancestors were driven out of France in the persecutions of Protestants.  He was a member of The Church of England but he was not yet saved.  As an adult, he was blessed with a wife and numerous children but was often inebriated and abusive.  But God intervened.  Billy Sunday was preaching in Scranton and was held over for an extra night due to a snowstorm.  In God’s gracious providence, my Great-Grandpa French was there.  The Lord worked in his soul and completely changed his life.  He repented of his drunkenness and became a member of the Jackson Street Baptist Church in Scranton.  Many members of his family were part of that congregation including my maternal grandparents and my mother.  The Gospel came into my life through my mother and through many other members of Great-Grandpa French’s descendants.  My mother’s father, Clarence Heiser, was a good and godly man, a Deacon (i.e., Elder) in the Jackson Street Baptist Church, and much loved and respected by all, including my mom and dad.  He died when I was young and I did not get to know him well. I do remember that he had huge hands and tickled us grandchildren nearly to death as we tried, not too hard, to escape.

Martha Fleth Swartz was my father’s mother.  Her parents emigrated from Denmark and were part of the Presbyterian church.  She married my grandfather, William Swartz, and joined the Dunmore Methodist Episcopal Church where he was a member.  This is where my parents worshipped when I was baptized as an infant.  One of Grandma Swartz’s brothers was a Presbyterian Pastor, but I do not know anything more about him.  Another brother, “Uncle Bill”, was an Elder in a Presbyterian church and was very highly respected by my grandmother and my father for his strong faith and godly life.  My sister and I would often visit Grandma and Grandpa Swartz overnight and Grandma would always kneel beside each of our beds and pray with us.  Her prayers were remarkable for their fervency and for Grandma’s clear conviction that she was talking to someone she knew and loved and who knew and loved her.  She also taught Sunday School and I remember enjoying her class very much.

What are the streams of grace that flowed into your life?  Be sure to bear witness to God’s goodness to you in these things, especially to your family and congregation.

Kit Swartz  Child of Grace   Pastor Emeritus, RPC Oswego, NY