This is a popular refrain in times like these. But I want to look at it from a different perspective. Life is indeed short, yes, but there’s something about being in the shadow that’s powerful.
When I think about Junior, my mind always goes back to my childhood. In my mind I see my grandfather through the eyes of a 10 year old boy looking up at his hero.
And the reason that my mind always takes me there is because when I was a boy, I was his shadow.
Wherever he went, I wanted to be right there beside him. And now, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to understand why.
Perhaps it was what I was learning
Junior worked with his hands. I saw that. I admired that. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent holding his hands, just looking at all the stories they held.
I’d ask him about every scar, every crooked place, every missing or misplaced part—and if you know, you know. Those were the hands of a man who had worked.
And years later, I built a company with the work of my own hands. I don’t think that’s an accident.
Perhaps it was the way he was a friend to many
Junior had a way of being a friend to anybody. And that says something. People aren’t always friendly anymore. But he was. And he was friendly to everyone.
I think somewhere along the way, following him around, I decided I wanted to be that kind of man too. I want people to feel better after they’ve been around me. I want to bring encouragement. I want to bring life.
Perhaps it was the jokes he would tell
Junior wanted to laugh. And looking back now, I think part of that came from living a hard life. He knew life could be difficult, but he had found his hope in Jesus.
His smile came from somewhere deep down inside of him, and it was almost as if he needed somebody else to feel some of that joy too. So he would try his hardest to make me laugh.
And now I do the same thing with my own kids. Because in that shadow, I learned from him that joy is how you make it through.
Without joy, it’s hard to hold on to hope.
Perhaps it was the dirt roads and the dust in the air
Those truck rides with Junior always felt like the beginning of an adventure. I can still remember the excitement of walking out that door and climbing into his truck. I don’t think anything in this life will ever quite match that feeling again.
The places we’d go. The people we’d meet. The absolutely silly junk we’d buy and be excited about, so much so we’d carry that meaningless object in our pockets for years.
Half the time, I don’t think it mattered where we were going. We were just going together. And maybe that was the lesson.
There is something out there worth seeing. There is another road worth taking. There is something around the next bend worth finding out. I learned that from him.
I learned it riding in that truck, sitting beside him, being his shadow.
Perhaps it was his toughness
I never saw Junior back down from much of anything—a person, a problem, or even a horse. I watched that man punch a horse square in the face after it bit him. And I remember thinking: Well… apparently we can fight horses too!
But underneath the funny stories was something real. Junior was strong.
When a situation required strength, he could take control of it. And the older I get, the more I understand how important that is. There are moments in life when the people you love need somebody who will stand up, step forward, and not be afraid. This world needs strong men.
Men with backbone and a Bible, men like Junior.
Perhaps it was his gentleness
Because for all that toughness, I saw something else in him too. I saw how he loved his wife. Oh, he loved NuNu. NuNu was his prize.
And if there is one thing I want to carry from his life into mine, it is that. My goal is to be more in love with Joanna when I’m 80 than I was when we first got married.
And I think Junior showed me part of the secret:
- Enjoy your wife. Enjoy your family.
- Laugh together. Flirt with each other.
- Keep choosing each other. Keep falling in love.
Don’t let life make you forget how much you enjoy the people God gave you. That’s how you do it.
Becoming a man in his shadow
And perhaps, more than anything else, it was becoming a man while standing in his shadow.
Junior taught me how to cut and whittle. He taught me how to take aim and shoot. He taught me how to change a tire. He taught me how to drive a tractor. He taught me how to drive his truck… which I then proceeded to ruin in his field—true story, it never started again.
He taught me things with his words. But I think he taught me far more simply by letting a little boy follow him around. Because that little boy was watching.
- I was watching those hands.
- I was watching how he treated people.
- I was listening to those jokes.
- I was riding those dirt roads.
- I was watching his strength.
- I was watching him love his wife.
- I was watching him live.
And I didn’t know it then, but I was learning how to become a man.
That’s the strange thing about a shadow. A shadow goes wherever you go. It follows your movements. It takes your shape.
And after all these years, when I look at the man I became, I can see pieces of Junior everywhere.
- In the work of my hands.
- In the way I try to make people laugh.
- In my love of an adventure.
- In my stubbornness.
- In my strength.
- In the way I love my wife and my children.
- And in my faith in Jesus.
So when it comes to Wilbur Euin Robertson Junior, I know exactly what I was. I was his shadow.
And what an incredible privilege it has been learning to become a man in his shadow.
Because eventually every little boy has to grow up. Eventually he has to step out from behind the man he followed. Eventually, he has to take the wheel of that old truck himself. But when he does, he discovers something:
The man whose shadow I walked in all those years is still going with me.
And Junior… now you’ll be part of the shadow I cast for someone else.
The greater Shadow
I opened today with Scripture, and I want to close with Scripture.
We began with Psalm 144: “Man is like the breath; His days are like a passing shadow.”
And that’s true. Junior’s days here passed. Someday, so will mine. Someday, so will yours.
But I don’t believe the shadow was meaningless just because it passed.
Because look at what can happen underneath the shadow of one man’s life. A little boy can learn to work with his hands. He can learn to laugh. He can learn to be strong. He can learn to love his wife. He can learn to love his children. He can learn to have faith. And eventually that little boy grows up, and he casts a shadow of his own.
But there’s one more shadow I want to leave you with today.