My dad died on August 14^th of this year.  There’s not a day I don’t think about him and miss him in some way. I have found it interesting the things that bring waves of grief.  It could be something as simple as reading a commentary he gave me or listening to an old phone message.  Today it’s Monday Night Football.

One of my early memories of my relationship with dad and football surrounds a Monday Night Football game many years ago. It had to be in the late 70s. We were big Houston Oilers football fans.  If my memory serves me correctly, Houston was playing the Miami Dolphins.  I had to go to bed with the game in the balance. I couldn’t believe I had to go to bed and I’m sure I threw a fit or two trying to stay up past my bedtime.  But to no avail. I had to go to bed and miss what I was sure to be a great game.  As it turns out, it was a classic game.  During the second half, my dad came into my room to wake me up and watch the rest of the game.  Earl Campbell had a career game and dad wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the epic comeback and win. I’m sure it would have to be one of the most famous MNF games ever, and I got to see the ending with my dad.  It was a good day. It’s a great memory.

Tonight the Denver Broncos play the Kansas City Chiefs.  Most of the time I would have called dad to see what he thought about the game.  We would both talk about how good Mahomes looks and would wonder together if Von Miller could do anything to slow him down.  He would probably say how crazy it would be to kick to Terek Hill and I would agree and say something about Denver better be smart enough to kick away from him.  I would say our only hope is how porous Kansas City’s defense is and dad would say something about how feeble Denver’s offense has been.  In a year like this one, we would not spark a lot of hope between the two of us. We wouldn’t talk long and would leave our conversation open to the possibility of a great Bronco win but also resigned to the fact that they would probably get beat by 30.  I would tell him about a bet I made with one of our high school kids, and he would laugh and tell me to send pictures when I had to pay up.  We would tell each other how much we loved each other and that we would talk after the game.  I am sure missing that phone call today.

My grief is a great reminder of how blessed I am and how much I love dad.  Grief is an indicator of love.  We never grieve what we don’t love.  The more one grieves, the more one loved.  Don’t despise grief.  Though extremely hard, embrace your grief as a gauge of God’s immense love for you.  I realize there are millions of people who would give anything to have a dad as great as mine for even a day. God gave me my dad for nearly 53 years.  I wish it would have been a few more years.  To know he’s with Christ and I’ll see him again is enough for me today.  I think that is part of what Paul means when tells us to grieve with hope (1 Thes 4:13).  I’ll miss him like crazy. Win or lose tonight, I’ll miss our phone conversations. Dad was starting to text.  It would have been fun to text during tonight’s game.

Grief is a process. But I sure don’t want to stop grieving dad.  It is a great reminder of how much he loved me, and how much I loved him, and even more of how exceedingly good and gracious God is to my family and me.  I’ll talk to you later, Dad.  Go Broncos!!

My father is dying.  It’s a sentence I never dreamt I’d be writing this year.  Just a year ago my dad was a vibrant and healthy 77-year-old man.  In February, my Father was diagnosed with lung cancer.  The cancer had already metastasized into his liver and bones.  Dad began a valiant yet short battle with cancer.  He handled the chemo very well and at times we were very hopeful and encouraged.  However, just a couple of weeks ago, we found out cancer had engulfed his entire body and traveled into his head and even has lodged itself in my Dad’s bone marrow.  With very little hope of physical healing, Dad stopped treatment and we called in hospice to care for him during his remaining days. Today, he is literally sleeping in his deathbed waiting for the Father to call him home.

Two things I have learned well in ministry: I hate cancer and death stinks.  I learned to hate cancer when my sister, Krista, battled cancer so courageously and won.  Far too often in ministry, and with my father’s illness, I am reminded how much I hate cancer.  And as Dad lay dying, I am reminded once again about how much death stinks.  If you have ever suffered through the death of a loved one, you know what I mean.  In preparing my fall sermon series, God had me in Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians.  It is a beautiful and a very personal letter.  In the first two chapters, Paul teaches us a remarkable dichotomy about death.  It is something I’m learning first hand and a lesson I want to encourage you.

The first lesson is found in chapter 1.  It’s rather simple and straightforward: For Paul to live is Christ to die is gain (1:21).  The second lesson is in chapter 2.  Paul’s friend, Epaphroditus, was very ill. He was ill to the point of death but God spared his life.  Paul’s second lesson is rather simple too: If his friend would have died, Paul would have suffered “sorrow upon sorrow” (2:27).  Do you see the contrast?  On one hand, if Paul died, it would be gain. Why? Because in death he will be “with Christ which is better by far” (1:23).  On the other hand, if his friend died, Paul would have been greatly grieved and would have experienced sorrow upon sorrow.  Paul is giving us the right to grieve and to hurt even though we live in the knowledge of the reality of the resurrection.

What can I take from this?  For the believer who dies, death is beautiful and is a remarkable gain.  If the Lord’s tarries, the only way a Christian will see Christ is through the passageway of death. However, for the loved ones left behind, death stinks.  The void we feel is real, the pain in the depths of our soul is real, and the tears we cry never seem to dry up.  My father’s death will mean gain for him.  He will be absent from the body yet present with the Lord (2 Cor 5:8).  The presence of Christ is “better by far” (Phil 1:23).    He will be more alive than you and me.  I heard one time that Christians leave the land of the dying and enter the land of the living. I really like that idea.  But for my mom, my brother, sister, my family and dad’s friends, his death means sorrow, pain and hurt.

So, what will I do when my father passes away?

1. I will grieve.

In his amazing grace, God gives us tears.  I will cry. I already find myself crying.  Just the other day, I turned to one of my dad’s old books and I saw his handwriting. If you have ever tried to read his handwriting, you will know I didn’t really read his note. I just knew it was his and I cried.  I find myself crying in the most bizarre places.  I came home the other day and just wept driving into the driveway.  How weeps driving into a driveway?  A person thinking about this father dying, that is who. Tears are a very healthy way of expressing grief.  Do not be afraid to cry.  God also gives us touch.  I can’t tell you how invaluable my wife and kids will be to me. I will hold Heidi’s hand and hug my kids.  I will share my pain with my family.  As we hold one another, cry and hug God’s healing balm will be passed from one individual to the next.  Together we will walk through this difficult time.

2. I will grieve with hope.

My dad is dying but he will not die!  My dad will breathe his last breath but he will be alive!  When my father was diagnosed with cancer in February, I knew my greatest hope was not for my dad to be physically healed.  My greatest hope is that Jesus Christ is the Son of the Living God.  My greatest hope lies in the fact that Jesus is the atoning sacrifice for my sins, for dad’s sins, and for your sins.  My only real hope is that Jesus was resurrected on the third day and my dad will be resurrected on the Last Day.  Because Jesus lives my dad shall live! That is the truth of the Gospel.  That though my father dies, he will be alive forevermore.  It is that truth I trust.  It is that truth I press into and anchor my soul in those dark moments.  It is that truth I continually preach to myself through my pain and tears.  In time, it is that truth that will overcome the darkness of my grief.

Tears, touch, truth and trust are all given to us by God to help us navigate the road of grief.  My grief will be a journey I take with my Lord and family.  It will be a journey, unlike anything I’ve traveled. You may be on a similar journey.  Don’t compare your grief journey with mine.  If you have had to endure the death of a spouse or child, your grief and pain will be much more than mine.  Allow yourself to grieve.  Allow yourself to cry.  If you are walking through grief, remember you are not alone. Find someone to talk to.  If you are in Salina, I’d be more than happy to talk with you.  I may not have a lot of answers but I will point you to our wonderful Savior and the truths of the hope in the Gospel.  As a pastor, I am giving your permission to grieve, to hurt and to heal.  God is faithful and will see you through.  Pray for my family and me.  We are asking God to allow us to grieve but in our grief to make much of Jesus. My dad is dying and that really stinks.