I had someone close to me remark that they wish they'd lived in Jesus' time so that they could know him personally in life. I could not withhold what God was telling me to say: "No, you don't. I've watched you react to much lesser lights, and if you don't like those people and situations, you REALLY wouldn't like Jesus!"
My grandfather was a profound and upright man. He was more like Jesus than most anyone I've met in many ways, yet most people who knew him thought he was an arrogant jerk, and really didn't like being around him. He lived most of his life estranged from relatives that should have been very close to him and treasured him the most, including people he had made tremendous sacrifices for.
I have five siblings, but there was a break between the four older and two younger kids. The older four, of which I'm the second, all had the opportunity to go work for my grandfather in the summers. I watched each of them join up, and each of them peel away. I saw their real reasons and the reasons they gave. It was a vivid lesson that I would not put together till many years later.
I watched the process of alienation unfold with everyone, not just my siblings. Most people were ok knowing him at a distance. It's when they gained familiarity that they struggled. The closer you got to my grandfather, the less filter he had. He had an uncanny ability to see things better than they were, and some portion of the intensity of the inner voice that criticized him came out of his mouth and criticized others. Because humans don't appreciate what is good, most people took offense at what some very few treasured: the ability to get feedback from someone superior to you without needing to make any of the sacrifices they made to get it.
No one ever says "I went away because I am lazy" or "I prefer comfort now to comfort later" or "I don't like doing hard things" or "I don't like situations that make it hard to ignore my faults." Everyone comes up with nobler excuses. But they are lies.
I worked construction for my grandfather basically every summer growing up. I spent a lot of time with him, and I may have come to know things about him no one else ever did.
Because I was willing to endure the fires that enveloped him, I came up to the level where he really didn't have much more criticism for me, and while the fire was still there, I personally didn't see or feel it anymore. I don't know that anybody else ever felt comfortable around the man, but I did. I very much enjoyed being in his presence.
He experienced harrowing abuse throughout his childhood at the hands of both his parents, finding himself a surrogate father to his many siblings at a young age. He worked against many challenges in his life, and made many mistakes. At a young age, in a second marriage, and in the depths of alcoholism, he crashed his car into someone's home and ended up facing the facts in a hospital room. In that room, he dedicated his life to the Lord, and he never looked back.
There were several times when we went into the home obviously poor single older women. They did not know what he charged, but I did. When I asked him, "why did you charge her so little, Grandpop?" He just brushed it away and quickly changed the subject. Eventually, I stopped asking, because I knew what he was doing and why.
He also had me scan all his paper filing into his computer. I had to read the documents to know where to file them. What I saw was an enormous backlog of monthly payments he had made to various charities, his parents, his several handicapped siblings, the receipt for the car he had bought the daughter of his older brother who died young, and so on. My grandfather was not a wealthy man, and I was shocked to see just how much he had done for others in total secrecy.
When he needed to go to be with his parents as his mother was dying, he asked me to go with him. He had nothing but complete love and respect for his parents. When I found out more about his childhood later, I could not believe the completeness of the forgiveness he had made toward them.
I was raised with the understanding that his separation from my grandmother was solely his fault. My grandfather never said anything otherwise. He bore full responsibility for it. He was an austere man. One day, in the truck, he just sat there. This was very strange, because there was always so much to do that we were always in a hurry. I didn't dare say anything, because i knew something was different. Finally, staring straight ahead, he said "Divorcing your grandmother was the worst thing I've ever done. Not a day goes by that I do not regret it." Then, he put the truck in gear, and drove off. After my grandmother's death, I learned of details that changed my perspective on what had actually happened, and it further deepened my regard for how he lived his life. My grandmother clearly hated my grandfather, at least from the moment they divorced and until the day she died, but that did not diminish the love he had for her.
My grandfather had a pretty raw deal in life, and he still made so much of it. Of all the people I have seen die, he has been the only one to face it courageously, sincerely expecting something better than what he had here.