One of Willie Johnson’s Boys

It was oft-heard phrase when I was growing up. “Oh, so your one of Willie Johnson’s boys.”

Here’s how it would go:

When the parents of one of my friends met me for the first time, they would ask, “Who are your parents?”

My answer: “Willie and Martin Johnson.”

Then would come, “Oh, so your one of Willie Johnson’s boys.”

No matter what town we lived in (and we lived in several) it seemed everybody knew my daddy. Maybe that’s just the way of small towns and their preachers, or maybe that was just my daddy’s way, making certain he met and knew everybody.

You see, my daddy had what I call a “large personality.” When he walked into a room, he owned it. Not in a braggadocious way. He just made it a point to meet everyone and shake their hand, and it seemed like everyone was eager to shake his.

It kind of made me proud that everyone knew him and that they smiled when they said his name. It looked to me like everybody liked my daddy. Now, as an adult, I’m confident everybody didn’t, it’s just I never met any of them.

For a long time, I took for granted the fact that I had a father to be proud of and figured every kid was proud of their father. But in my teen years I became more aware of fathers of friends who were never around, who drank too much, who cheated on their wives, who had pornography hidden in a garage…

Here’s what I’ve learned: every child needs a father they can be proud of.

At the same time, though, there’s a lot of pressure when you have a father like mine was. Because he was upright, honest, hardworking, friendly, and devoted to God, people assumed I was a miniature version of that.

His reputation rested on my shoulders like a weight because I knew I was less than he was.

What I didn’t understand back then was that pressure was good for me. It helped me avoid some of the temptations my peers succumbed to. I said some, certainly not all.

You see, the last thing I didn’t want to do was anything that would tarnish my daddy’s reputation and cause people to doubt their view of his sterling character.

As I was thinking about all this recently, my thoughts turned to my other father—my heavenly one. The one that matters the most.

Although I don’t “proclaim it from the rooftops,” I’m not shy about telling people I’m a Christian and devoted to following God’s plan for my life.

Here’s the thing though: Just as being a son of Willie Johnson carried a weight of responsibility to live my life reflective of his life, identifying myself as a child of God carries an even greater responsibility to live my life reflective of the life that his Son lived when he walked this earth. People expect it of me.

Thankfully, though, my Father knows I’m a flawed human living a flawed life and He’s provided grace and mercy, by sacrificing his only Son, that will cover all my shortcomings. Because of that, I don’t have to let the weight of my mistakes tear me down and make me feel like giving up.

In the presence of such love, it makes me want to try harder to avoid doing things that would change people’s views of my Father in a negative way.

Claiming God as your Father and Christ as your Savior is one of the boldest steps a person can make. It’s one I’ve never regretted.

* Taken from The Wit and Wisdom of David Johnson, Volume I1: The Hairy Catfish Caper.