My father is a brilliant man. His sense of curiosity is inexhaustible. He loves art, history and science and gets a real high walking the halls of the Metropolitan or Smithsonian.

As a boy, he had limitless opportunities. He was born into a privileged home where his father’s aspiration was for his son to become banker or attorney. However, my father took a different path. He pursed his passion for theology and ultimately received a PhD from Princeton University.

During yesterday’s ceremony, my father took the pulpit and preached a sermon that stirred emotions. Someone in the pew behind me leaned forward and whispered, “What is it like to have a father who is a master of language and a poet of words?”

That admirer was speaking for many. He, like all of those present, were personally impacted by his messages. I was even more overwhelmed when I considered the number of other people that know and admire my father who were unable to make the journey to Austin. He has dedicated his life to touching others through ministry and has influenced thousands through his inspirational sermons and compelling lectures.

As his child, I wish that everyone I encounter could have the opportunity to listen to him speak. I want his grandchildren to know what a privilege it is for them to know him. I want more than anything for people to recognize his brilliance. However, the irony is that my father does not share my desire for people to know and appreciate his talents. His efforts are simply an offering. He uses his gifts that were given to him to glorify the Giver.

This weekend, I witnessed the blessings that are offered to those who serve others. What a testiment to his life - what a blessing to be his daughter.