Blessings from a God-fearing Family

I was born into a Reformed Presbyterian family consisting of my father, mother, two older brothers, and an older sister. Although all but my brother Jim have passed into glory, I have fond memories of each one of them and am grateful to God for their influence in my life. I also have fond memories of my Syracuse, N.Y., RPC family and the influence that Sabbath school teachers, youth leaders, and ministers had on me. They were all special people to me. When I became an adult, I began to realize just how much my teachers, pastors, and family had invested in young people like me.

I don’t remember the particular time when God effectually called me. I believed what my family and church family taught me from early in life. The teaching coincided with what the Scriptures taught. Between what my family was teaching and what the church was teaching, I was convinced that what I was taught was truthful.

I confess that I didn’t especially enjoy memorizing the answers to the Westminster Shorter Catechism questions. That regular Sabbath afternoon activity would end with me standing before my father to recite both new and old catechism answers. On one occasion, my two adult brothers were both home for a long weekend and thus were present when I reported to our dad to demonstrate my catechism progress. At some point Dad turned to them and asked them to participate in answering questions. I was rather amused to hear my brothers struggle to remember some of the answers.

My siblings and I attended public schools until college age. As I was transitioning into junior high school, I found myself sliding into the use of some vulgar words. It was most likely an effort to fit in with my school friends. I knew that such terminology was not acceptable at home nor within the church family.

The following summer I attended White Lake Covenanter Camp. During the Sabbath Day worship service, we sang Psalm 139A: “Lord, thou hast searched me; thou hast known my rising and my sitting down; and from afar thou knowest well the very thoughts that in me dwell” (The Book of Psalms for Singing). Those words were a wake-up call to stop the coarse language. It was a reminder that, as a citizen of God’s kingdom, I shouldn’t be living with one foot in Christianity and the other foot in the world. To this day, White Lake Covenanter Camp has a special place in my heart for the friendships, excellent teaching, and spiritual growth that takes place there.

God’s Hand at Work

I completed my college years at Geneva College. Geneva is as dear to my heart as White Lake Covenanter Camp, for the same reasons I listed above. Nearing graduation, there was one occupation I refused to consider: teaching. Instead, upon graduating from Geneva, I took a job as a foreman with a company that subcontracted with power/utility companies treating and evaluating the condition of standing power-line poles. It wasn’t a glamorous job. By October, living in a seasonal camp with no hot water and bathing in a cold Raquette River was beginning to get old.

In God’s perfect timing, a letter came from my family advising me to come home ASAP. A letter from the U.S. Army was waiting for me. It was a non-negotiable invitation to report for duty. I was nervously intrigued by this new opportunity. I quickly applied to enter Officer Candidate School. However, my induction was delayed by at least a month due to my application to OCS.

Meanwhile, a want ad for substitute teachers appeared in the local newspaper. In order to stay busy while waiting on a response from the military, I began subbing. To my surprise, I thoroughly enjoyed working with mostly an 8th grade science class. The students were charming, friendly, and interested in science. The experience so changed my thoughts about teaching that I now considered it for a future occupation.

By late December, I was notified that OCS was closed since many officers were returning from Vietnam. Basic training was an eye opener but also a learning experience, dealing with varieties of disenfranchised young men. Upon graduation from basic training, my orders were to report to Army Finance School. I wasn’t particularly thrilled with the thought of being immersed in numbers for my Army experience, but I realized that I could easily have been sent to the infantry.

Hours later, as I prepared to go home on leave for a week, I was told there was a phone call for me in the day room. The caller told me to ignore the previous orders and report to the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research, specifically the Department of Virus Diseases. By God’s grace, I was being given an opportunity of a lifetime. I would be working with a four-man team under the direction of a God-fearing medical doctor. There was an epidemic of Hepatitis B within the Army that defied common understanding at that time. Although I was merely a lab technician, my Christian boss treated me as a son. When he published the results of our work in scientific journals, he would credit all of us.

After serving my tour of duty, I returned home where I acquired my teaching credentials. With an otherwise lackluster background but with veterans’ status and research experience, my gracious Lord had woven a pathway for me to secure a job as a high school biology teacher. I would spend the next 38 years working and living in a rural school district.

God Provides a Wife

As a young man, I had little success in attracting the fairer sex. However, once again, God would open a door for me which I had wrongly judged to be a bad idea.

I had been working as a teacher and athletic coach for four years and, during that time, had become well acquainted with the janitor who cleaned my classroom. He was an older man who liked to chat with me as I did school work while waiting for basketball practice to begin. He started telling me about a blonde-haired elementary teacher and how I should ask her out on a date. I listened politely while mentally dismissing the idea. I knew who she was: an attractive lady, probably a Roman Catholic, and known by me to be quite a talker.

My janitor friend was a persistent man, bringing up the subject on a few occasions. I wasn’t careful enough with my words when I finally told him that I didn’t think she would want to go out with me. I thought that was a hint for him to drop the subject. Instead, he went to her and told her that I didn’t think she would go on a date with me. Within a day or two, he was back to report that she said she would go out with me. I didn’t see any gracious way out but to face the young lady and ask her on a date.

I invited Belinda out for an evening of snow skiing. It was a beautiful winter evening, and our conversations while riding the chair lift revealed that the presuppositions we both held about each other were beginning to melt away. Being an un-hip sort of guy, I marvel to this day when Belinda tells people our story in which I was apparently a perfect date, speaking in a smooth tongue that was never known to exist in me before that evening. I wouldn’t find out until later that Belinda had called a friend right before our date and told her that it was probably a mistake to have accepted a date with me. She knew I was quiet, and she feared she would have to talk for me all evening. She was concerned I would fall in love with her and she would have to break my heart in the end.

What a loving, gracious, and amazing God we serve who will take two rather unlikely people and put them together in marriage, where they are blessed to have each other and still enjoy each other after nearly 40 years! “Your right hand, Lord, will set me free and work out what pertains to me. Your love, O Lord, forever stands; Leave not the works done by Your hands” (Psalm 138A, stanza 6, from The Book of Psalms for Worship).

The Valley of the Shadow of Death

In 1992, my brother Jim’s wife (Joyce) had recently been diagnosed with a slow-growing brain tumor. Months after the diagnosis, Joyce collapsed at home and died shortly after arriving at the hospital. The following year, our mother died unexpectedly. The next year, my brother Jack’s wife (Janet) along with our sister (Nancy) died together in a car accident. The death of these four much-loved family members, so close together in time, was highly upsetting. I grieved for my beloved brothers as their loss went even beyond a mother and sister. Both brothers bore their grief with unwavering faith in their Lord and Savior.

I am blessed to have had brothers who have been wonderful examples to me throughout my life. I am reminded yet again to be thankful to God for calling me to His throne of grace and also for giving me parents, teachers, and siblings—all of whom contributed to training me up in the way I should go and have spoken to me the Word of God—whose faith I want to follow.

All Things Work Together for Good

I am getting old and can see so clearly the abundance of blessings God has provided for me throughout my life. Where loved ones have passed into glory, there are now grown children and young grandchildren who bring great joy that overcomes past grief. Romans 8:28-29 reminds all of us who are God’s people that whether in times of great joy or times of grief, God has always been shepherding us, opening doors and closing doors, and surrounding us with His love that we might be conformed to the image of His Son. All honor and glory belong to our heavenly Father and His Son Jesus.

Bob Pinkerton serves as a ruling elder in the Syracuse, N.Y., RPC. He and his wife, Belinda, have four married children and four grandchildren, with two more on the way.