What’s in a Name?
by John Towriss
January 24, 2025
My name, John, may seem common and ordinary. And it is. But the name John Towriss has an amazing heritage behind it. One of my aunts researched our family line back into the 1700’s to an agricultural area of England called Lincolnshire. As she found in baptism registries and other records dating back several generations, every John Towriss has named his first-born son, John. That’s why my son is named Johnny.
The John Towrisses of the 1700’s, while churchgoing on Sundays, were a rough and rowdy bunch the rest of the week. My wife Carole, also quite a researcher, found newspaper clippings that note infractions for activities such as parking their cart and horses in the middle of the road and blocking traffic! But that’s minor compared to the citations for involvement in several bar fights! In one such fracas, one of my namesake ancestors is quoted as saying, “I tried to hit one of the men, but I missed and hit the landlord.” Oops…
I don’t know if my family was run out of town but in the late 1700’s they sailed for the new world and settled on a large piece of farmland in what is now Ontario, Canada. While apparently still churchgoing, the Canadian Towrisses were also not particularly devout. That is, until my grandfather Jonathan Goulding Towriss came along.
As the story is told, one day in his teen years, while walking on the family farm, he lifted his eyes above the barn and said to the heavens, “God if you are there, I want to know more.” If only he knew then, how much more God would give him. My grandfather became a pastor, an evangelist and a church planter starting dozens of churches in his lifetime. This picture is my most treasured possession. It’s just a fading polaroid of my grandfather and me standing next to the grave of the first John Towriss to come to the new world.
I got to spend a lot of time with my grandfather, who taught me to fish among other things. Indeed, it was Grandpa that was filling the pulpit on a hot summer Sunday night in small church in Indiana where our family lived. I was only 7 and had no intention of paying attention to another boring sermon from a preacher. But God had a different plan and for whatever reason, I listened to Grandpa’s sermon that night. I had never felt conviction for my sins -- which were pretty minor at 7 years old. But I did that night as the holy spirit opened my eyes to the truth of the gospel and our Lord and Savior’s sacrifice just for me. Grandpa and my uncle prayed with me at the altar that night. I gave my life to Christ and have never looked back. My grandfather’s influence and prayers for his family has extended to generations past his lifetime as many of my cousins, nephews and nieces are strong and outspoken born-again followers of Christ.
I realize not everyone is as fortunate as I was to have such a spiritual heritage. I’m thankful for it beyond measure. But I would also say that just one man in my family, my grandfather, was the turning point that sent my family in a completely different direction spiritually. Might God be calling you to be the one in your family?