What My Grandmother Taught Me in a Pair of Jeans

When I think about a gospel legacy, my mind goes straight to my grandmother. She was steady in a way that made you want to sit a little closer, listen a little longer. After my parents divorced, she stepped in to raise us, and church on Sundays was never up for debate. She was always the best dressed, heels clicking against the pavement, perfume lingering just enough to make you want to hug her twice. 

But then there was this one Sunday. We were headed out the door and I noticed she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I asked her if we were still going to church. She didn’t even pause. “Of course we are.”

When we arrived, she scanned the room until she spotted a woman also wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Without a word, she took my hand and led me straight to her pew. We sat with her the entire service. Later I asked why she had dressed down, and she said something I’ll never forget: “Amber, sometimes we are the bread and sometimes we are the yeast. We need both to grow.”

That day I learned that gospel legacy isn’t just about what you teach, it’s about what you notice. And who you’re willing to sit beside. Since then, I’ve made it a quiet mission to look for the person who might feel out of place, and to make sure they don’t feel alone.

It’s one of the reasons I love the way our faith pairs “ministering sisters”, usually one younger, one older. It’s not about checking off a visit on a list, it’s about living out Titus 2:3-5. Paul was calling women to live counter to the culture of their time, to invest intentionally in the next generation so they would know what it looks like to live with love, purity, contentment, and kindness.

And maybe that’s what God is still asking of us. To notice. To adjust. To show up in a way that makes room for someone else to grow. Even if it means wearing the jeans.