Victory in Jesus

This weekend, Brian and I took a short trip to the metroplex to celebrate our 29th anniversary.  In between other things, we went to see my grandfather, Bun Bun, at the nursing home in Arlington and stayed with him for the afternoon.

Bun is a fiercely independent guy who has been laid low by old age and near-blindness. He grew up on a farm in Fairy, Texas (the closest “big” town is Hico), the oldest of four siblings and the only boy. Theirs was a hard-working life, but was also full of laughter, family, and music.  I can remember times when we would get together at their house, and one of my great-aunts would play piano, Bun would play the organ, Mom (my great-grandmother) would play the fiddle, and Pop (my great-granddad) would play harmonica.

Johnny, Vernon (Bun Bun), and Valeria Jackson, mid-1920s

When Bun Bun graduated from high school, he decided farm life was not for him and embarked on quite the adventure.  He and three of his buddies pooled their resources, drove to Los Angeles, and applied to work at Lockheed. It was the war boom in aviation, and he went to school to learn the fine art of riveting, bucking, and sheet metal assembly.

My grandparents on the flight line with the North American P-51, early 1940s

After his training, Bun Bun came back to Texas and was hired by North American Aviation in Dallas, right by the Dallas Naval Base. He worked his way up to supervisor, and it was there he met my grandmother, who was an executive secretary on the night shift.  Eventually he bought a vending route and began building a business, with my grandmother at his side.  He taught himself to play the organ, fished a lot with Uncle Milton, raised two girls, served on the school board, grew a massive garden, and was an elder in the church. When the grandkids came along, he occupied his time with mischief (mainly related to teasing the pets and doing practical jokes).

Something interesting happened to Bun Bun in his older years. He was raised by a staunch Church of Christ family that had a very black and white view of the world. Add that to his natural temperament – a “lion,” my-way-or-the-highway kinda guy – and you get a man who didn’t have much room for anything beyond the party line. But then….then Bun Bun discovered the Holy Spirit (or maybe I should say that the Spirit finally broke through to him). Suddenly the boundaries of his world expanded and a softness grew in him. I got to witness this firsthand, since I worked for him one summer in college, and then later after Bekah was born. The change was amazing.

Over the last 20+ years, he and my grandmother have hosted a prayer breakfast every Saturday morning, rain or shine. It’s a very ecumenical group of prayer warriors and a beautiful testimony to the power of a changed life. Back before it was commonly accepted, Bun Bun would raise his hands in worship, unashamed to praise the God who saved him.

Fast forward to 2012. When we arrived at the nursing home, Bun was asleep; when he woke up, he was pretty disoriented.  My aunt Jorja had given me two helpful tips: (1) they were serving ice cream in the common area at 2:00; and (2) there was a piano and the residents would like it if I played. So we trooped down and got him a big bowl of strawberry ice cream for the win. 

The piano was nearby, with a lone hymnal perched on the music rest.  Brian served as conversation partner, and I began to play the old hymns. At first it was quiet, but then I played “I Come to the Garden Alone” – a sweet voice behind me began to sing. Then there were a few amens. Then more residents came, and several sang along. A lady sang “How Great Thou Art” at the top of her lungs. When I played “Spirit of the Living God,” my granddad said, “Hallelujah!” After about an hour, we wrapped up with “Victory in Jesus.” It is a marvel to me how our shared story of song cuts through gender, age, race, denomination, and social distinctions – at that moment in time, we were all the same, all thankful for the work Jesus has done in our lives.

I personally think it’s pretty great that a man who is 90, mostly blind, mostly deaf, weaker than he would like, and with trouble remembering can still celebrate Jesus’ saving grace. Back at the room, some old friends came by for a visit, and Bun Bun insisted that we have a time of prayer together, with everyone participating. Praise and prayer – his life is wrapped up in these two things. I can’t think of a better legacy.

I heard about a mansion He has built for me in glory,
And I heard about the street of gold beyond the crystal sea,
About the angels singing, and the old redemption story,
And some sweet day I’ll sing up there the song of victory.
Oh, victory in Jesus! My savior forever;
He sought me and bought me with His redeeming blood.
He loved me e’er I knew Him, and all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory beneath the crimson flood.