You’ve Got The Power, Grandpa!

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.” (Matt. 5:14 NIV)

Summer sun warmed the yard while a cool breeze kept the day from becoming uncomfortable. Life is good, I thought, especially since two of my grandkiddies just arrived for a visit.

After being freed from the tangle of seat belts and car seats, Kendrick charged to the house for some juice and Taylonee raced past grandpa and headed straight for the swing set. Ignoring the slide, she grabbed a swing and called, “Grandpa, push me!” I was already sitting on my scooter so I cranked the speed control to halfway between the picture of the turtle and the picture of the rabbit. Born to be wild don’t cha know!

Stopping near the A-frame, I took two spastic steps and placed a firm grip on the frame with my left hand so I could push with my right.. “Grandpa, push me!” After a couple of serious nudges, she was airborne, soaring into the wild blue yonder. As her swing began its return to earth, she called out, “Grandpa, you’ve got the power!” My first reaction was to smile and stand a little straighter. In her world, at that moment, I did have the power. (I wanted to ask her what she wanted for Christmas.)

Then I thought, “Power? What power?” I have no bulging biceps with which to box a heavy bag. I have no protruding pectorals with which to bench press 500 lbs. My quads could never carry me over the triathlon finish line. I don’t even have the power to cross the room without my walker! So what kind of power does grandpa have?

The same that Joshua gave the Israelites. The power to choose. (Joshua 24:15)

She was right. I did have the power. No–wait. WE have the power. You and I, beloved of our Father, we have the power to choose. We can hand down a verdict or extend a helping hand. We can condemn or forgive. We can turn away or get involved. As the saying goes, we can curse the darkness or light a candle. Today, let us choose to be the light of the world.

Ken Miller is a legally blind, cancer survivor with spinocerebellar ataxia. He lives in northern Minnesota with his wife Kathy. He contributes to two church newsletters and has published the first part of his memoir; Out of the Fishbowl. He can be reached at