Philip Standefer
Jul 10, 2017 · 4 min read
There is something about the sunrise…….

I woke Ava up and whispered to her to get her clothes and flip-flops on. I helped her navigate the dark hotel room to find what she needed to take our morning walk. We quietly made our way to the elevators and punched the button that would take us to the lobby. She led the way, opening all the doors and slightly jogging to our destination. She was excited. The birds were singing their morning songs as we walked hand in hand to the boardwalk that would lead us to the sandy beach. The sun was just beginning to reveal itself in the preliminary glow of deep gold and rosy red. No one else was there, just she and I. Miles of sand and surf for a king and princess to enjoy. And we sure enjoyed it. We chased the sand crabs and caught a few of them. We let the water rush over our bare feet. We talked about what King Jesus had been teaching us. She told me He was teaching her how to listen to me and her mom, and how to trust us more. I told her he was teaching me how

“the sting of death is sin; and the power of sin is the law.” 1 Corinthians 15:56

to be a better leader for her and her brother and her mom. He was teaching me to listen to Him and to trust Him more. If I did this, I would be someone she could trust her whole life. She agreed, and said that was just the thing Jesus was telling me.

We had a blast in South Padre. It was full of adventure and parts of the world we had never seen. I think these two things are important, not only for our own souls as men, but for the soul of our families. On the last day of our trip Kelsey got a phone call from her Dad letting us know her Grandpa had passed away after years of battling cancer. He was 93 years old. Our nine-hour ride back home was full of deep conversation about death and how it hurts to lose someone you love. There is no better backdrop for deep conversation than the backroads of Texas. We were exploring this question: “why does death hurt so much?” We discussed this for hours as we made our way north into the piney woods leaving the coastal grasslands behind us.

It was somewhere between La Grange and Schulenburg, Texas that I remembered the Apostle Paul mentions explicitly what he refers to as the “sting” of death in his first letter to the Corinthian Church. He says that death stings. Wow. It does sting. This is what Kelsey and I had been talking about for miles. In 1 Corinthians 15:56 Paul writes that the sting of death is SIN. I had never considered this before. One of the talking points for Kels and I was the possibility of being at the others funeral one day. Or, heaven forbid! Being at the funeral of one of our kids. This was heavy stuff. Even the thought stung. It felt like a sting to go there in my mind. So, I asked the Lord why. He began to bring to my mind several occasions where I had desired to do something for my family or say something to them, and did not act upon this desire. Why do I do this sometimes? But in that moment driving north on Highway 77, I knew the reason: my own sin. It is so easy to explain moments like these away, or put them off to tomorrow, or next year, but is next year guaranteed? What if the desire and the way is made right then, and we should act with all the blessing of the Lord. We are busy. We are tired. Truth be told, we are sinful. For most of us, a funeral is a stinging reminder of our own sinful excuses or hidden thoughts toward the person in the casket. I’ve seen a lot of people get angry with God because he took that person “too soon”. I think what we really mean by that is, “how dare you remind me of my shortcomings toward him/her.” All of this hit me like a freight train, and I knew it was true.

I started to see that losing someone close to me would be extremely hard because I would lose time with them. They would be taken from me. I could not do the things I once did with them. I would lose the opportunity to do the things I knew I should have done, but sadly did not. This would hurt bad.

But something like hope began to rise in my mind, like the dawn coming alive over crashing waves. What if I lived now with those I loved most in such a way that death couldn’t steal as much from me? Could death sting less if I lived more now? I mean really live. Like, hold nothing back, not even a little bit. Could I fight through the tired, the selfishness, the small-mindedness, and really live for and with those I love the most? Thanks be to God through Christ Jesus my Lord! Yes! Yes, I can. Through Him I can. By His Grace I can.

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