My Dad was not a king. Raised on a cotton farm, he dropped out of high school and his grammar was never polished.
My Dad was not a king. He drove old cars, lived in simple homes, lived paycheck to paycheck, never desired a 5-star meal, and vacations were a quick trip to the Dallas/Ft Worth area where we stayed the night with other family.
My Dad was not a king. He never traveled outside of the country, never created a bucket list, or never felt the need to pursue some adventurous experience or place.
My Dad was not a king. He never employed an additional paid staff member in the small churches he pastored; he never had many “likes”, “friends”, or “shares” on his rarely used Facebook account; and a small auditorium was the venue for his memorial service.
My Dad was not a king.
Just over 2,000 years ago a King came to earth via his chosen Jewish people and today we celebrate the moment he was first presented to Gentiles for the first time when the Magi arrived. We call today Epiphany. (Click HERE for more on Epiphany.)
My Dad was convinced he worked for that King, he believed he had a personal relationship with that King and surrendered the days of his entire life to that King.
It is somewhat appropriate that three years ago (Jan 6, 2014) my Dad died and I am confident that He went to Heaven and met his King on Epiphany.
My Dad was not a king but he knew one intimately and he introduced him to me. Epiphany.