You Conduit!

For some reason, finding the word “conduit” in the Bible surprises me. “Conduit” has been a common discussion in my home over the years as my husband has worked with it, planning routes for and running it in an industrial setting.

I was pondering what conduit is and what it does and how that parallels with the body of Christ. It’s an empty thing, strategically placed, meant to be filled and to transmit whatever fills it from one place or point to another. As believers who desire to be used of God—to be laborers in the harvest of souls in these perilous last days—our lives function like this conduit for the the gospel to fill and travel through to the fields, nooks, and crannies of the earth, making connection with people that the gospel could reach them.

I sometimes feel like my purpose is insignificant, that I have little connection and transfer very little to people in the broad field of life and not much in my little nook, either. There are two points, though, that upon considering challenge that feeling.

First, my significance of purpose in God’s harvest isn’t necessarily measured by quantity. Second, my scope has and likely will continue to change throughout my life.

I think about my father and the transition in his life to get perspective. Dad was a strong, talented baseball player and electrician who got saved and began preaching, teaching, and singing for the Lord. He ministered in jails, nursing homes, and churches. All this was happening before I was born or old enough to remember. He was traveling about, toiling in the fields, and being a faithful and devoted husband and father while he and Mom grew their family. Then, shortly after baby number six, Dad suddenly fell terribly ill with a brain tumor. He was 36.

Dad’s scope of reach in the harvest had to change basically overnight. But he was still a vital conduit for the gospel of Christ! Thank God he lived through that tumor and had health enough to teach, sing, and occasionally preach at church. He stayed mostly centered around his home and his home church. But what an asset he was to the church! His influence on our household spiritually was monumental. Dad and Mom were faithful to the Lord in the good and bad times. Most of those “times” had daily difficulty. But the hardships didn’t clog up their conduit. The troubles may have even concentrated the gospel that was transmitting through their lives into their children’s lives. The testimony of their endurance and rock solid faith impacts me to this day.

Tumor number three grew in an inoperable area of Dad’s brain. In his last two years of life he reached the point that he could no longer walk, read his Bible, and scarcely could speak. Still his spirit persevered. He died at 48.

Allow me to interject a very special memory from about two weeks before Dad died. I was sitting by him at his bedside, flipping through his bible to find something to read to him. Many of the pages had highlighted areas, and I wanted to find something that was special to him. Psalm 91 had a particular lot of highlighting in it, so I chose it. After reading it aloud to him, I remarked along the lines of, “That was pretty good, huh?” He nodded and gave a labored, “Yeah.” That was the last time he spoke to me. When I shared that experience with my Aunt Judy one day by Dad’s gravesite, she said she thought that (Psalm 91) was his favorite. That experience, I believe, was a precious gift to me from the Lord and perhaps to my father as well to get to hear his favorite scriptures again.

The people and places my dad’s life impacted changed throughout his short life, and the way he impacted others changed. I can say with conviction, though, that the importance of his life to mine and his conveyance of the gospel of Jesus to me was of the utmost significance. He demonstrated faith to me. I saw what it walked like and what it talked like. His life convinces me we need not ever believe reaching our family with the gospel is a lesser calling. It may indeed be our greatest calling. After all, oftentimes it is the place where we have the closest and tightest connections.

You may have noticed I’ve had to edit this post a couple of times. I’m typing on my phone in a teeny space, and I accidentally hit the post button; so, I have hurriedly done some editing and must wrap up my thoughts.

I would like to underscore the point that our lives and the connections we make in life are significant and valuable. God strategically orders our steps to encounter people in our lives so that we would both receive and share the gospel of Jesus. It happens in ministry and in regular daily living. It’s a continuous stream. All of us in the body of Christ are conduit for His gospel wherever we are and at every point in our lives. Our lives count, and we are included in His great conduit run throughout the earth.


Wow, this was so inspiring to read! Beautiful :heart:

My heart sank when I read this. I am so sorry :broken_heart:
I loved this post and I thank you for taking the time to share this beautiful story of your dad :pray:t3: Conduit is a great word. I will be pondering this today :slightly_smiling_face:


Thank you for sharing so much of your testimony and the story of your dad. What an inspiring man. You hear of some that are beloved in public and treat strangers with love and compassion while they are bemoaned at home and treat their family like strangers. It seems like your dad was the exact opposite. That is what I would call a successful life. The home ministry is often the toughest and to hear about your dad doing it so well makes me want to step up my efforts in my own family. A success at home is a success everywhere. Thank you again for sharing your story.


This is beautiful, thank you so much for sharing!


@Leah beautiful story about your Dad. A true man of God.
I was wondering as I read about the cancer and the way you spoke about him.
That he did not survive. I was saddened when you said he died 12 years later.
That was 12 precious years you and your family had with a true man of God.
I have had way to many friends die from cancer. So I am familiar first hand with the ravages of this disease. As I am sure a number of others here in this community.


Yes, it was 12 precious years. I got to have my daddy until I was 15 instead of losing him before I could hardly remember his face. So many people lose loved ones suddenly or far faster than 12 years later.


That was beautiful, thank you @Leah
I memorised Psalm 91 for my first daughter and prayed it over her in the womb. It is very special to her now (7yrs).
I noticed she has highlighted sections of it in her bible :slightly_smiling_face:


Hey, @sig. Thanks for reading my post and responding. You are definitely an active route of conduit :grinning:. I see you and several others actively reaching out to give a warm welcome and thoughtful response to many members. It’s almost like seeing the gift of hospitality leap off the page. :purple_heart: Or maybe compassion. Or both! Thank you so much.

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That is precious. She’ll have that knowledge of what you spoke over her life and that Word in her heart forever. A parent’s love is an anchor.

@CharlesDavid, my mother fought two wars with cancer. She won the first time. The treatments alone nearly killed her, but she finally pulled through. Then, seven years later she got a different kind of cancer than the first kind had been. It was aggressive and persistent. In spite of treatment, she passed away.

Thinking about this reminds me of how scared I felt after she died. Losing my mother was horrible. The pain of it literally hurt my chest. I remember being at the funeral home, standing in front of the table holding the memory leaflets, wondering about not being afraid to live. In those moments, I really did feel afraid to live. It hurt to face the loss. My dad was already gone and now my mother was gone. I felt like my head had been lopped off. People speak of not being afraid to die. I needed courage to not be afraid to live.

God was ever so near. He binds up the wounds of the broken-hearted. He gives hope for eternity. The grave is not final for the blood-bought Christian. And our life is a gift to be opened and lived. The Lord is with us when no one else is or even can be. Thank the Lord He gives hope and encouragement through His Word, His Holy Spirit, ministering angels, and through people. :pray:


I think you’re right about home ministry being the hardest sometimes. I remember Mom mentioning she’d had some frustration that stemmed from Dad being gone a lot (pre-sickness) while she was overwhelmed or not feeling well and having so many children to look after. It would be a difficult balance to achieve for a family.

@brianlalor shared about his daughter finding Psalm 91 special knowing he’d prayed it over her. As parents walking out our faith in front of our kids, I suspect we impact them more than we realize. They probably appreciate more than what they let on or more than they can even realize until they’re grown and reflecting. It’s been that way for me reflecting about my parents. On the parent side myself, I’m thankful for those moments when it becomes clear that something I’ve done has mattered and touched the heart of my child in a positive way.


@Leah, loosing both parents to the ravages of cancer.
I love how the Lord was ministering to you giving you the strength to walk this journey.
Reading your journey with your mother’s passing.
I am always in amazement how the Lord ministers to each of us where we are at and what we so desperately need at that moment in time. His compassion and love is always there.
I so often wonder how those that don’t know the Lord gets through these moments.
I was ever so thankful for the Lord and his strength.
Even then it still was a struggle.
Especially doing the eulogy at my mother’s funeral.