Thoughts — A Story of Three Generations

Thoughts — A Story of Three Generations

By Editor Bob Terry

It’s a classic tale of the rise and fall of a family in three generations. Unfortunately it’s true.

The grandfather came from marginal circumstances. Yet he possessed unusual abilities. Some considered him an opportunist. Others said he used his varied abilities to the fullest extent. He was the builder. He built the family name, the family fortune, the family business. It took hard work, often against great odds.

The grandfather paid a high price to become the leader he was. He was frequently misunderstood, even by his closest friends. At times, he lived in meager circumstances, but he never lost sight of his goal. In the end, he was hailed a great man, even though he made some obvious mistakes. Those who scorned him in his younger days stood in line for his favor in his golden years. His accomplishments made him the object of civic pride.

Life was not easy, even after reaching the top. Competitors constantly tried to pull him down. Even some of his own family tried to start a rival company, but the grandfather’s acumen brought that rebellion to an unglamorous end.

At the pinnacle of his success, the grandfather stood alone, unmatched by any peer. He would be remembered as a legend long after the names of others of his day were forgotten.

The son who inherited the family business was gifted, too. Some say he was smarter than his father. He didn’t have that blunt aggressiveness of his father. His style was smoother, more refined. It reflected the different backgrounds of their youths, but the son was a worthy successor.

The son grew the business beyond what the father ever dreamed. New products and new markets were developed. Other leaders flocked to the son, wanting to know his secrets. He was considered a great manager. Somewhere along the way, the son sort of lost his way. He abandoned some of the basic principles on which the business had been founded. His smooth style gave way to an arbitrariness that made working for him difficult. Some of the longtime faithful stood by him only because of their ties to the family and the business.

How much raw talent the grandson had no one ever knew. The business failed almost as soon as he took over. The grandson had the opportunity to save the business but he was too headstrong. He asked for advice and those who had dedicated their lives to the company counseled him well, but the grandson would not listen.

The boy had never known the toil of work. Nor had he experienced the struggle of achievement. He did not know the value of money or the importance of relationships. His father owned the company — that was all people needed to know. He had been raised in privilege, and he acted as one who felt entitled to everything. After all, he now ran the business. It wasn’t long until the grandson lost about 80 percent of what his father oversaw. The grandson salvaged the title and some of the trappings of his father and grandfather but the business basically failed. And it never recovered.

Variations of the story are told so often today that no one is surprised by the lives of King David, his son Solomon and grandson Rehoboam. Psychologists can even explain why it all happened. According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, David was the builder. His needs were basic — safety, security, comfort, food. Only occasionally did he reach into the next level of loving and belonging.

Solomon, on the other hand, did not fret about safety and security. He began on the level only occasionally touched by his father. Solomon’s foundation was belonging and loving, and he reached toward what Maslow termed “esteem needs.”

Rehoboam, the child of privilege, started with esteem. He was the son of the king. He believed himself important and entitled to whatever he wanted. He did not have to work. Others worked to provide for him. He believed others should provide whatever he wanted. After all, he was entitled to it. Rehoboam’s world was himself.

On a smaller scale, that pattern repeats itself today countless times. The oldest generation — the GI generation — is frequently referred to as the builder generation. Following the Great Depression and World War II, this generation’s concerns were safety and security — security of income, of employment and for family. The children of this generation became the “flower children” of the 1960s. Relationships became primary. Belonging and being accepted were compelling forces.

Now the grandchildren of the “builders” are adults, and, frequently, there seems to be a disconnect in their values. The grandchildren talk about jobs that “feel right for me” and hold three jobs in two years or no job at all. The “builders” would have stayed in a job for security, but security is not a concern for the grandchildren.

Many of the grandchildren have been children of privilege. Their family name, position or checkbook opened doors for them. Like Rehoboam, they do not know what work is or the value of money. When they graduate from college, they move back in with their parents so their parents can continue caring for them. Obviously this is not true for everyone, and every time a child moves back to their parent’s home, it doesn’t mean the child expects to be cared for. But the examples are so prevalent that they are now called a pattern.

Many wonder what today’s Rehoboams will do when the wealth of the builder generation is passed to them. Will it be squandered as David’s grandchild squandered the kingdom, or will it be tended and grown? Will it be used for personal pleasure, or will it be used in ways that are pleasing to God?

These are serious questions. Christian stewardship does not end at death. Proper planning for use of what the Lord entrusts into one’s care continues as part of a Christian’s legacy. Every grandparent or parent hopes to pass something on to his or her children and grandchildren. My parents did at their deaths, and I hope to do the same. I hope some of that will be financial, but the most important legacy will be spiritual and personal values reflected in life and in death.

Simply handing one’s earthly kingdom to Rehoboam may not be best for him or best for the kingdom of God.