Tonight I find myself reflecting on men and women who have faithfully studied, taught, returned to, argued, studied some more, and clung to the scriptures.  I have inheirited a legacy from these men that seems at times unbelievable to me.  That I should benefit from the blood, sweat, and tears of another man!  As the boys and I have studied the Reformation, I have been awestruck at the courage and conviction of men who defied the established leaders to cling to what God revealed to them was true.  Many of them died for their convictions, or at least suffered things I could never conceive of enduring. 

I think also of the men God has put into my own life--Barry Leventhal, Jon Krug, Greg Holladay, Rod Whited, John Findlay, and Phil Smuland--and many others who were not pastors.  These men faithfully exposited the Word of God in the presence of my attentive (and occasionally not-so-attentive) ears.  Any credit or praise I receive for what I know of scripture certainly belongs to God via these effective instruments whom He used to teach me of Himself.

And of course, I would be remiss if I did not mention my parents.  Although they did not suffer to the extent of some of my heroes, they were faithful in living lives of testimony to God's redemptive work before my tender, watchful eyes.  My dad was an amatuer theologian who gave me my love for difficult theology.  My Mom was an excellent wife and one who excelled even the noblest of women because she hungered for God's Word above all other things.  I never saw her satisfied in what she knew or understood of scripture, and I hope to be just like her.  They lived and breathed, walked and talked, and LIVED the Gospel of Christ. 

To these people, some whose names you've read, and some who are known only to myself and to God . . . I am part of their legacy.  I pray I will be faithful to thier hard work and devotion.  And tonight I praise God for putting them into my life.