Never give up; you never know until you try.
Death claimed my friend Bill last Monday. He was only 67, but he crammed a lot into those years. He lived and he loved, always remaining true to himself. He was stubborn, and he was fiercely loyal. He was enigmatic—extremely outspoken on some subjects while remaining intensely private and maddeningly silent about others.
Bill was very open about his disdain of hypocrisy, especially in people who profess to be Christians. Like many of us, he questioned why, if there is a loving God out there, why bad things happen. It seemed that he blamed God and that he thought that God should make people “behave.” I shared many times my belief that God loves us enough to allow us to make mistakes, just as any earthly parent loves us and wants what’s best for us but allows us to make mistakes so we can learn from them. I didn’t want Bill’s unanswered questions, or anger with God, or anything else, to keep him from calling out to God and accepting His love and forgiveness. He probably had questions remaining when he drew his last breath, but Bill got the most important question answered: God loved (will always love) him. He loved him enough to send His Son to die to redeem him. Accepting Jesus’ sacrificial death and gift of forgiveness made Bill right with God. (John 3:16)
Bill always worked hard to provide for his family; he seemed to be of the old-school, showing his love in practical ways rather than being physically or verbally demonstrative. He seemed uncomfortable with open displays of affection, but he would hug you back and pat you on the back in a gruff, embarrassed manner. It was that trait that made his rare open displays all the more special.
He told me on several occasions that I was the daughter he never had, and I often told him that he was like a dad to me. (I’ve only seen my biological father a few times, and my first experience with a stepdad was a hellish nightmare. Mother married my current one, a real gem, in 2001.) One holiday after Dad, Bill and I had eaten the meal my mother had lovingly prepared and we were all sitting in the den relaxing, I said to no one in particular, “I feel so blessed. It’s like I’ve got a mother and two dads in this room with me.” (May we all be so blessed.)
I’ll post part 2 this upcoming week, so look out for the “challenge” part!
If he accepted that Jesus loved him and died for him, that's what matters.
ReplyDeleteWhy do bad thing still happen? Our pastor offered this thought recently - after our fall from the Garden, we allowed Satan to become ruler of this world. God will intervene, but we allowed the devil to have his way on the earth.