(When my father died over thirty years ago, I wrote down several pages of thoughts that I have never shared with anyone. I decided to share some of those thoughts with you on what would have been his 98^th birthday.)

For all the saints who from their labors rest,

 I sat in a packed church for the funeral of the pastor who baptized and confirmed me and preached the sermon at my wedding. The congregation was singing this hymn, but I was so choked up I couldn’t join in. This pastor was also my father, the man who led me to know Jesus and who instructed me in the faith.

Who Thee by faith before the world confest,

 He answered the call of our Lord and made it his life’s work to be a minister of the Gospel. He may not have been the best preacher or the greatest administrator (although I thought he was pretty good), but he was a GREAT pastor. He had a way of sharing God’s comfort and promises with people that was reassuring. There was a quiet, powerful confidence evident from His abiding faith in the one who lived and bled and died for him!

Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest. Alleluia! Alleluia!

 I was praising God that day through my tears even though I couldn’t sing. But it still hurt to lose him from our midst.

O blest communion, fellowship divine,
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine. Alleluia! Alleluia!

My oldest daughter was eight years old at the time. When I told her that her Papa had died, she said, “Oh, I thought something bad had happened!”  Seven-year-old Bethany said what all of us were thinking: “It’s too soon.” But four-year-old Leah reminded us, “He’s hugging Jesus right now.”

 And when the fight is fierce, the warfare long,

He had his share of trials in life, including difficulties in his ministry. But why cancer? Why did we have to watch him suffer? We first heard the diagnosis three years earlier. After a grueling three month regimen of chemo AND radiation and three months of recovery, we had him back. He worked, retired, traveled and was enjoying life.

He and mom spent his last Easter with us, then went with us to West Texas for a BBQ at my wife’s home church. The trip was cut short because he was having dizzy spells. The cancer was back with a vengeance. He had surgery for a brain tumor, which appeared to go well. Afterwards he was in a good mood as I was talking to him. The next day he slipped into a coma. We all spoke to him for the next two weeks not knowing if he could hear us.

I found it difficult to pray with him. I was angry with God. Why did he have less than two years of retirement? It wasn’t fair.

 Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia! Alleluia!

Yes, the reminder that God is in control, that He has already won the victory and that dad was now face to face with his Lord.

The golden evening brightens in the West;
Soon, soon, to faithful warriors cometh rest.

It still seemed too soon. I was 32, dad was 63. I had members of my congregation older than 63 whose dads were still living. But how could I not want him to be in the place Jesus had prepared for him?

Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest. Alleluia! Alleluia!

The funeral was on a Monday. The day before, all my siblings and our families went to church with mom in the congregation where dad had served in ministry for 23 years. We were all at the communion rail together that day, united with Jesus and with dad and all the saints in that blessed sacrament that assures us of forgiveness and life and salvation.

A hymn sung in that Sunday service was “Blest Be the Tie that Binds” (The Lutheran Hymnal #464). The fourth stanza says:

When here our pathways part, We suffer bitter pain;
Yet, one in Christ and one in heart, We hope to meet again.

More than thirty years later, I still get choked up on some of these hymn verses. But I remember the faith that he had, the faith that he lived by, the faith that he shared. I thank my heavenly Father for giving me an earthly Father who led me to know my Savior. And I thank God for taking dad to Himself after having shared him with me.