In a world that boasts little in which to hold confidence, we find a small group of people meeting to honor the life of David Zylstra. Those gathered to mourn for Dave in death, boast in the confidence he taught in life. Confidence in a Savior. Confidence in salvation.
Randy Zylstra, Dave’s son, stood up and walked to the podium in the small room filled with socially distanced loved ones. He stood quietly, reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out his notes...beginning what would be a beautiful tribute to his earthly father.
Randy began by verbalizing the list of people who could have, and perhaps should have been, standing where he was that day. He highlighted strengths that others would have brought to the podium. Strengths in which he found himself lacking in comparison. He admitted his feelings of inadequacy in what he was about to do, in what he had written and in what he was hoping to convey. Resigned, he settled in. Knowing he had been chosen for this task by a father who loved him. Chosen to convey the source in which his father Dave had boasted.
Dave Zylstra was a good man. He lived a life that anyone would characterize as “good”, as “moral”...even exemplary by human standards. Randy had collected many stories about his dad. He shared a few of them from the podium. Stories like the one where his dad paid insurance premiums for a needy family for three years...never wanting to be repaid. Or about the man who told Randy how Dave had visited him in jail. How he had encouraged him as he got his life back together. Stories of neighbors who felt seen and heard by Dave...who felt he was more than a neighbor, he was a friend. The story of a young widow who would never forget how Dave had played a father figure role for her children. People reminisced of days serving on boards with Dave. How he brought “wisdom, fairness and reason”. Stories and examples showing over and over again, a lifetime of love and servanthood for others.
As with most of us, Dave hoped to leave a legacy. A legacy taught to his children and to their children...and then to theirs and so on. A legacy of following Christ. A legacy of growing more and more in the image of our Father. Years before his death, Dave clearly conveyed what he wanted said at his funeral. He wanted to remind us “why” he had done the things he had done. The “so what”, if you will. Dave was certainly not a perfect man. He was impulsive, always in a hurry and sometimes downright impatient. In spite of his flaws, Dave knew who he was. He was a follower of Christ, a son made in the image of a Heavenly Father. His life was to be a reflection of the one he professed as Savior and Lord.
As is the case for many sons, Randy is a physical reflection of his dad. He chuckled as he recalled a vacation visiting the Grand Canyon. A complete stranger walked up to him and said, “You must be Dave Zylstra’s son. You look just like him!”. Do you see the beautiful irony here? Randy looks like his father. He physically resembles the one who fathered him. We, as Christians, are called to look like our Heavenly Father. We are challenged to continually throw off our old self and change our image to that of Christ. Christians were given the name “Christians” not in reflection of who they were, but in reflection of the one they followed - Christ. Dave followed a long and windy road of sanctification with a deep desire to reflect his Savior. Walking 96 years alongside a relational Christ who invited Dave to reflect his character in the relationships he blessed him with. So, what may simply look like a “moral life” to some, is profoundly more. Every story, every act of kindness was in reflection of what Jesus had done for Dave. Every relationship in which Dave engaged he saw opportunity to reflect the Savior and yet deflect any praise for himself.
Randy concluded his eloquent tribute by challenging himself and all of us listening. He asked the question, “How do you want your children and grandchildren to remember you?” I challenge us all to be what we want our children and grandchildren to be”. Show them. Model it to them. Don’t just talk about it, or worse, expect them to do what you will not. Why? So that when people look at us, they see the likeness of our Father. The Father who takes our inadequacy and fills it. The one who sees our flaws and yet still invites us to walk with him and engage in his ministry. The one who chooses us, saves us, loves us and is our great hope through all generations.
In loving memory of David Zylstra