My Dad

On November 5, 2025 I lost my father, Steve. We had his funeral a few days later and I gave a eulogy. Here is what I said:

There’s so much I could say about this man who meant so much to me over time on this Earth. He was the best father a man could ask for, the hardest working man I ever knew (most of which did NOT rub off on me), the kindest, most generous as well. We have heard from so many in these last few days about how good of a man my dad was, how generous he was, how nice he was, and how great of a coach and mentor he was. 

But one thing many people did not know about my dad is that he was a sick man for most of his life. In fact, he was sick for more than 60 years! He was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when he was just a young teenager. But even before his diagnosis, he would often show signs of sickness but wouldn’t tell anyone. Around the age of 15 he finally got sick enough to be admitted to a hospital and officially diagnosed. He was a great athlete in junior high but could not play high school sports. His weight plummeted to barely 100 pounds. Later in his life other ailments came – arthritis (two different pain doctors said he had the worst case of arthritis they had ever seen), and neck surgery to repair damage he had sustained from a life of hard work. Yet he absolutely refused to go on disability, despite the opinions of his doctors.

Yet I never heard him complain. He never bellyached about anything. He never blamed anything for his plight, not life and certainly not God. And he wouldn’t put up with it out of me or brother. And I was rather fond of complaining and bellyaching. But it was not until I was older that I realized that here is a man who suffered from debilitating diseases, yet worked a full-time job at the post office, did maintenance for three different sets of apartments, and still managed to find time to paint houses on the side. He didn’t complain; he worked and provided. My complaints seemed then to pale in comparison. When he finally had surgery for the Crohn’s, the surgeon came into the room after it was successfully completed and said, “I don’t see how you were walking around every day, much less working!” But that was my dad. As someone once said of Thedore Roosevelt, “He may wear out but he will never rust out!” Like Roosevelt, my dad never seemed to sit still. 

But I would like to focus on my dad’s spiritual life and to do that I want to use history. I actually credit my dad for giving me the love to history and the decision I made to make it my career.

John Newton was a 16^th century British slave trader (today we’d say he was a human trafficker). He ran slave ships from Africa to the new world. Yet he eventually found Jesus Christ, was saved, and spent the rest of his life, until his death in 1807, as a committed abolitionist, working to end the slave trade and slavery itself. He is most famous for a song he wrote that captured his spiritual life and we all know it – Amazing Grace. “I was blind but now I see,” was one famous line. Ironically, Newton did go blind in his old age, and he once said, “My memory is fading but I remember two things very clearly: I am a great sinner and Christ is a great savior!”

My father was not a human trafficker and was certainly not engaged in any great sins like Newton but as I knew him coming up he was not a committed Christian. I believe that he was a believer because he was raised by his grandparents who were as pious as could be. So the foundation was there. And he expected me and my brother to always do what was right and never what we knew to be wrong. 

Yet my dad had a lot to be resentful for. A broken home, chronic sickness, the struggles of life. Even though he never showed it, there was, I believe, some bitterness and it was manifested in rebellion, not against Christ but against religion. From the earliest years that I knew him, he did not attend church. He never talked about the Bible. He didn’t really want my mother to attend church and certainly not tithe! The few times he would attend he would dislike the pastor immediately, no matter who it was. Yet God worked in His gentle way on my dad, as my mother steadfastly prayed that God would put someone in his life who could reach him.

Nearly 20 years ago, a movie came out entitled “Amazing Grace,” about John Newton, William Wilberforce, and how they worked to end the slave trade. In my favorite scene, Wilberforce comes to see Newton at a church in London, where he is moping the floor dressed like a poor monk, doing his penance for a life of wretched sin that broke him. Speaking about a life of service and solitude, Newton, played by Albert Finney, made this statement:

“God sometimes does His work with gentle drizzle, not storms. Drip. Drip. Drip.”

The first time I heard that line, I knew that was my dad. I could look back and see that Drip, Drip, Drip in his life.

We sometimes think God should hit us with a tidal wave when we pray but He doesn’t often do that. Yet God is always hearing our prayers, answering us in His own time, and working behind the scenes to bring about our requests.

As I was growing up, in our basement man cave, we needed an AC to combat the humidity, and the AC was in the carport and it dripped water, so my dad put a garbage can under it to catch the water. And boy was he a stickler about making sure that the can was emptied. The first time he put it under the AC, I thought, “It’s gonna take a lifetime to fill up that can.” But it didn’t. Though it was a very slow drip, that can would soon be filled with that steady drip, drip, drip. Those drips fill up the buckets that represent our lives! We don’t see it, but God’s drips are there.

Hearing my mom’s steadfast prayers, the person that God brought into my dad’s life was Pastor Glenn McElhenny. And he loved Brother Glenn! His whole life changed. The suppressed truth that I knew was in him came pouring out in the last 20 years of his life.

He was still good, as kind and generous as he had always been, but it increased greatly. He loved Christian music, he loved Christian movies. He would call me often and we would talk about the scriptures. That happened all the time. Lengthy discussions. He often would say, “Brother Glenn just explains the Bible in a way that I can understand it.”

Drip, drip, drip.

He received some money after his mother died and nearly ran down to the church to pay his tithes!

Drip, drip, drip.

I saw him help so many people at church, help elderly folks on his mail route, and never charge them. He gave away lots of money, I even saw him give vehicles away. 

Drip, drip, drip.

His compassion for others grew to great heights. There was never anyone he wouldn’t talk to, invite to church, or give them a hug if they needed it. Earlier in his life, he wasn’t much of a hugger outside of family. That changed as God’s spirit rested upon him.

Drip, drip, drip.

He always joked about how he loved to carry grudges against others and he had many people in his life that had done him wrong. Toward the end, he forgave them all, even though some were no longer in his life and he had no reason to do so. Yet he told me, “I’m not going to heaven with grudges.”

Drip, drip, drip.

My dad’s body finally broke down this past year. His battle with Crohn’s, heavy medications, had taken a toll on his liver and it finally gave out. I saw him the night before he passed away. He never knew I was there. But I knew he didn’t have long and maybe he was waiting for us to tell him it was okay to go home. I knelt down beside him, put my hand on him, and said “Pop, it’s time to go! You’ve done enough. It’s okay. Go.” And I asked the Lord to take him home. A few hours later he was gone. 

But never doubt where my dad is right now. He is now at home with Jesus Christ. Our Lord told us, “He who believes in me shall never die.”

When he found out he had advanced liver disease and he knew he didn’t have long, we talked on the phone one night about a funeral and he said these words to me: “I don’t want anyone to mourn over me. I know where I am going and I know y’all will be with me soon. I have lived a great life. I had a great family. And I married the girl of my dreams. What else did I need?”

As my dad’s life shows us, we must always remember, that life is a marathon, not a sprint! What matters is how we finish, not how we begin. 

As the Apostle Paul said, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” For us who believe, death has no more sting!

Pop, you fought the good fight (and boy did you ever!), you finished your race, you kept the faith.

Enjoy your eternal rest. No one deserves it more. And we will see you again!