Day 59

Numbers 1-2 | John 3:1-21 | Proverbs 5

I read through Numbers today, and at first glance, it’s just a long census.

A roll call of names. A record of numbers.

But then I noticed a phrase that kept repeating:

“By their fathers’ houses.”

Each tribe. Each man. Each household.

This was more than a headcount. It was a declaration of identity.

Each leader represented his father’s house. Each tribe stood as a testimony to the faithfulness of God—not just in their own lifetime, but in the generations before them.

And it struck a chord in me.

Because tomorrow, I’ll be standing in front of nearly 100 people as I emcee my dad’s retirement party. And as I do, I’ll be representing my father’s house.

Representing My Father’s House

For 37 years, my dad has worked as a journeyman lineman. His job was hard, his hands calloused, his uniform marked by the wear and tear of long days in the blazing Arizona sun spent keeping the lights on—literally.

But for many of those years, he was also a pastor. A preacher of the Word, like the many pastors in our family who came before him. And still today, those gruff, crusty, foul-mouthed linemen he worked alongside refer to him as “Rev.” Many of whom will be at the party tomorrow night.

It’s a privilege to stand up in front of them.

Two great families—my mom’s side and my dad’s side—will be there, together in one place. His four children, his five grandchildren—all of us, a living testament to the life he has built. Gathered not just to celebrate his career, but to honor the man who has faithfully worked, provided, and led.

And when I stand at the microphone, I won’t just be representing my father’s name.

I’ll be representing something even greater.

A Family Tree of Faith

My dad’s faith didn’t start with him.

It goes back further—to his parents, to my mom’s parents, to the generations before them. To ancestors who worshiped the same God I do, the same God who met with Moses, the same God who wrestled with Jacob, the same God who called Abraham and promised him a legacy.

And I am part of that legacy.

One day, when I step into eternity, I will be greeted by great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents whose faces I’ve never seen but whose faith paved the way for mine.

And that’s what I want to pass on.

A lineage that isn’t just about names or numbers. But about faith.

A family tree with roots that run deep in the soil of God’s promises.

One that will continue long after me—impacting my daughter, her children, their children, for generations to come.

And it already is.

A Cupcake and a Prayer

The other day, I was talking to my brother, Michael.

He told me Erica (his wife, my sister-in-law) was looking for their youngest daughter, Cassidy, who’s four years old.

She checked the usual places—the backyard, the living room—until she finally found her in her bedroom. On her knees. Praying.

Erica knelt down beside her and asked, “Cassidy, what are you doing?”

Cassidy said, “I’m talking to God.”

Erica smiled. “That’s awesome. What are you talking to God about?”

Cassidy looked up and said, “I was telling Him I want a cupcake.”

And honestly?

That’s exactly the kind of faith I want to have.

Simple. Unshaken. Certain that the God of the universe is listening—even when my request is small.

And though she was just asking for a treat, her faith is proof that the line of believers—including my dad and me—continues. Down to the youngest in the Cox family. Dad’s youngest granddaughter, already on her knees before her heavenly Father.

What Will I Pass On?

Numbers 1-2 reminds me that we don’t live in isolation.

We are part of something bigger—part of a line of faith that stretches back before us and, by the grace of God, will stretch forward far beyond us.

And then I read John 3.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus, asking questions. Searching for truth. And Jesus gives him an answer that doesn’t just apply to Nicodemus—it applies to every generation before and after him:

“Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3)

This is the truth that matters.

It’s not about how long my family has believed in God.

It’s not about the legacy of faith that’s been passed down to me.

It’s about what I do with it.

Because being born into a Christian family doesn’t save me.

Being part of a long line of believers doesn’t make me one.

Faith isn’t inherited—it’s personal.

And the only lineage that truly lasts is the one that is born again in Christ.

A Name That Will Never Fade

My dad is retiring. His name is etched into the history book of his company.

But that’s not the name that matters most.

And if your family tree doesn’t boast generations of believers, take heart—God doesn’t require ancestral pedigree. Maybe, for you, the lineage of faith begins now, with your first, life-changing encounter with Christ.

Because what matters isn’t where you come from, but where you’re going—into an eternal inheritance written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.

The name that matters most is the one Jesus gives to those who believe:

“Child of God.” (John 1:12)

That’s what I want for my daughter. That’s what I want for my grandchildren, for every generation after me—not just a family legacy, but an eternal one.

Because one day, long after my name is forgotten, I want them to know the only Name that will never fade.

Lord, thank You for the generations before me who followed You. Let me be faithful with what they’ve passed down. And let me pass on more than a family name, but a faith that lasts forever. Amen.