"Take and eat this bread and drink from this cup. Know that Christ loves you deeply and I do too. I don't have much more time with you, but remember his death and resurrection, believe in Christ and we will one day have a glorious family reunion in heaven."

My grandfather said these words to his 31 family members who were huddled in a living room which was far too small for us on an Easter afternoon in late April in the year 2000.

They were the last words I heard from him. He died that night.

I was 17 years old, about to graduate high school, and had no plans to follow in his ministry footsteps.

Why would I? My grandfather wasn't around for much of my childhood.

Sure, we vacationed together when I was 13 and he visited during the summers through my high school years, but during my most formative period, the early years in which grandparents spend time babysitting and spoiling their children's children, they weren't around.

My childhood story isn't uncommon. Ministry demands sacrifices and as the oldest grandchild of missionaries, I involuntarily made one that most do not need to.

Reflecting on my relationship with him now, one might think that I have grown cold toward him.

Yet, a few years after his passing, I found myself sitting in a lecture hall in the same seminary in which he occasionally taught while on home assignment. My professor said a line that has stayed with me since that afternoon, "The people of your church will never be able to learn everything that you know. But, they will latch on to whatever you are most passionate about."

I remember my grandfather raising his voice at the NBA refs who would allow certain players to get away with fouls because of the player's reputation in the late 90s. I remember the joy in his voice over the telephone after the Minnesota Twins won the World Series in 1991. And, I can't forget the smile on his face that was there every time he would tell the same dumb joke on New Year's Eve. I won't repeat it. It still doesn't make sense.

But, on his final day, just before his last hour, he made it abundantly clear to family members what he is most passionate about.

Moving his family from a successful business in Minnesota to train for ministry in Dallas, packing his bags in Dallas to move to the distant places of Venezuela, missing family celebrations, sacrificing wealth, prestige, and worldly power, all of this, was done because of the same passion.

What my grandfather's children and grandchildren will remember most are not the years lost or the precious moments taken away from them due to ministry commitments.

What we will cherish most about our grandfather is his legacy fueled by his lifelong, inextinguishable, burning passion.

A passion for the glory of God in the gospel of Jesus Christ, beyond this, my grandfather knew there is no worthwhile legacy.

Although theologically I know that I cannot communicate directly with him now, if I could, I'd say this.

"Thank you, Grandpa, for spending your life magnifying Jesus. I'll see you soon and I am going to bring as many people to our family reunion as I can."