In early August I met an Urbana man who had just turned 40.  He was gaunt, spoke softly and got right to the heart of the matter the first time we talked.  In early June he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  Since June 1 he had lost 85 pounds and outlived his physician’s prediction. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life, however many days I have, doing what Jesus wants me to do,” he said.  He wanted to become a church member, and he asked if his daughters could be baptized.

One day in Mid-August all three of his daughters, ages 19, 16 and 10, were home when I visited.  The father asked them to come into the living room where he was laying on the coach, dressed only in gym shorts.  An eight-inch curved scar on his stomach from an early June operation made a sad face across his lean belly.

Each girl is a follower of Jesus but none had been baptized.  I explained baptism, and their father asked if they could be immersed in the bathtub.  The girls wanted to be baptized that afternoon, and we proceeded to fill the tub with warm water.  Their dad listened as I baptized each girl in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  The sleeves of my blue oxford-cloth shirt were wet as the man’s wife walked me to my car following the baptismal ceremony.

“This was the last thing on his list,” she said. 

A couple of days later the pain intensified and an ambulance took him to the hospital.  I visited him there.  On one of the last days when he was coherent he squeezed my hand and confessed a sin from his past.  Holding his hand tightly I said, “You’re forgiven.  Jesus loves you, buddy.  So do I.”

The writer of Hebrews says that it is destined for all humankind to die once and after that comes the judgment.  This man’s appointment came at 11:55 am on Thursday, August 23rd.  His wife called me on my cell phone at 12:20 pm and said just two words, “He’s gone.”

I responded with two words, “I’m sorry.”

On Monday I preached his funeral at an Urbana funeral home.  Standing on a small stage about 10 feet from his 39-year-old wife, his daughters and a son, I tried to speak words of comfort from the Scriptures.  About 50 friends and family members sat throughout the funeral home chapel.  His mother and father in their early 60s were directly behind his wife and children.  They had lost their only other son in an automobile accident about 15 years ago.

Reading from Ecclesiastes I said, “There is a time to be born and time to die.”  Turning to the Gospel of John, I told the somber-faced crowd that Jesus said there are many rooms in his Father’s mansion.  “I am going to prepare a place for you.  If this were not so, I would tell you plainly.  When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.”

I read from Romans chapter 8, saying “And even we Christians, although we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of glory, also groan to be released from pain and suffering.”

Several verses from the Psalms were read during the service as well as the words from I Corinthians 15 where Paul says, “… the last enemy to be destroyed is death.”

Finally, I faced the closed casket and said, “Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant.  Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in heaven.  Amen.”  His 17-year-old son stood and sang “Amazing Grace” acappella, before everyone quietly filed out of the chapel.

After the service the young widow told me she appreciated my words.  Her 10-year-old daughter clung to her mother’s dress and said, “I miss my daddy.” 

As I pulled out of the funeral home parking lot and headed back across town, I rolled my windows down, noticed the blue sky and slowly let out a big breath.  At the first corner, I waited for two young boys to cross through the crosswalk.  They carried soft drinks, pushed each other and laughed.  I smiled.  Reaching into my pocket for my sunglasses, I could feel the afternoon sun penetrating my dark gray suit.