The Radical Conspiracy of Jesus as Seen Through the Eyes of My Father-in-Law

Hi friends. I tweeked a tribute I gave to my father-in-law a few years ago and thought I’d share it again…

Today, April 4, 2025, Mark’s dad Jerry, would have turned 105, and I spent some time reflecting on the legacy he left his family and friends. Four years ago, his birthday landed on Easter Sunday, and we held a big family celebration on his back lawn for his 101st. Little did we even suspect that he would be gone less than six months later. We miss him terribly still, especially on his birthday. We somehow believed he would live forever. (Well, the truth is, he is living forever, but you know what I mean.) 

As our family exchanged texts following his death, our daughter Kelli shared a quote from Dane Ortlund’s book, Gentle and Lowly:

“When you look at the glorious older saints in your church, how do you think they got there? Sound doctrine, yes. Resolute obedience, without a doubt. Suffering without becoming cynical, for sure. But maybe another reason, maybe the deepest reason, is that they have, over time, been won over in their deepest affections to a gentle Savior. Perhaps they have simply tasted, over many years, the surprise of a Christ for whom their very sins draw him in rather than push him away. Maybe they have not only known that Jesus loved them but felt it.”

That quote so adequately described Jerry. He was so confident of God’s presence that, in times of trouble, he allowed the experience of suffering to shape his perspective and enlarge his heart. As a result, he often responded with the phrase “Tra La”! I heard him say it on the day he died. We often still quote him today when things are hard; we have wine glasses and key chains to remind us of his example.

Jerry had a wit that carried him along, almost a bit of a conspiracy between him and the Holy Spirit. It was the big secret and mystery of how suffering is used to expand our hearts for bigger and deeper love, a love that redeems. He also wrote poems about such things. One day, as I was going through a box full of papers, I discovered the meaning behind the phrase “Tra La”. I felt like I had found a precious pearl! Many of the rhymes found on the paper were crossed out, as if they just didn’t fully capture the essence of what he wanted to say. Because his eyesight was diminished in his later years, some of his handwriting was difficult to understand. The only rhyme I could truly decipher went like this:

“A simple Tra La seems to fill in the gap

When a bundle of trouble is dumped in your lap

If God doesn’t answer in a timely way

Tra La is the very best thing to say.”

As Dad became more acquainted with his physical infirmities, he became more gracious and accepting of his lot. His heart became more pliable as “Tra La” rolled from his lips.

I long for this kind of perspective; one which lovingly accepts my limitations and relinquishes the need to be relevant or spectacular or right; one which fasts from contempt or condemnation of circumstances or people. This kind of transformation provides an anchor of peace that cannot be manufactured. Wouldn’t it be great to be known as a “glorious, older saint, one who has been won over in their deepest affections to a gentle Savior”? 

The phrase “Tra La” doesn’t erase deep grief and the reality of pain in this life; it doesn’t deny our personal inadequacies, failures and disappointments. It simply acknowledges that, in this mixed bag we call life, in this tension between the now and the not yet, in this unfinished and unpolished life, Jesus longs to be a Loving Presence. 

Tra La and AMEN!