Father's Day: In Honor of my Dad (Bobbie Percer, Sr.)

This morning I was reminiscing about my childhood, and I recalled a moment that is indelibly stamped on my mind. The Percer family had arisen early in the morning to leave on vacation (I can't really remember where we were going, but we ALWAYS left early in the morning). We all piled into the Corvair to begin our trip--parents awake and ready, and children still in their pajamas. We always left early in the morning because in those days air conditioners didn't come standard on cars. Leaving early meant we could drive before the sun came up and made it hot. It was dark, we settled into our places, and I remember very clearly the glow of my father's cigar as we drove into the dark morning sky. 

I'm not sure why that memory sticks with me so strongly, but I can see it vividly. Dad, in the driver's seat, taking us on yet another summer adventure. Odd memory, no?

There is something about that orange red glowing memory that I love--my Dad, awake when others were half asleep, driving with confidence into a dark morning knowing that before the day is out he will bring us to our destination. Maybe it was just a morning memory . . . 

You see, my father passed away in August 2004. It happened just before I moved my family 1300 miles from Texas to Virginia. I wrote a little piece about my dad and posted it here shortly after we moved to Virginia. In his honor and to celebrate Father's Day, I thought I'd post it again.

I have been thinking this morning about memories. My Dad has been central in my mind recently. Why? Well, I’m afraid I’m losing him.

Let me explain.

My dad wasn’t very active the last few years of life. Due to his own lack of proper care for his physical body and a host of problems with illness, the primary memory my children have of their grandfather is dad sitting in a big lounge chair watching TV and occasionally waking up long enough to tease them.

My children did not get to know my dad. He was never the most active guy in the world (I think I know where my own lack of activity comes from!), but he didn’t sit around a lot as I remember it. Dad coached baseball, football, basketball, if it had “ball” in the title, he learned it, played it, and probably coached it. My dad cared about folks that no one else wanted. He loved kids, even his own. I once saw my dad kick a field goal from the 45 yard line (that’s a 55 yard kick, if you didn’t know!). I was in high school then, so dad was probably in his mid-40s. He could kick the ball further than the place kicker on our team.

I remember looking for dad’s vehicle to pull up at the football practice field. I don’t know if he knew that I saw him, but I looked for him to show up so I could perform for him. Dad didn’t get real excited about sports (that was mom’s job!), but you could tell when he was enjoying something. He had this infectious grin and mischievous smile that would literally light up his face. I heard that for years after my younger brother graduated high school, dad would make his way to the practice field and sit in his car and watch the players go through their paces.

For me, his watching was a comforting presence that reminded me that he was there if I needed him. Oh, I’ll admit that I didn’t “need” him as much as he would like, but it made me feel real good to know dad was there.

I miss him.

Sometimes in my work here, I think that dad is sitting in heaven, in his heavenly lounge chair, watching his boy perform. Oh, I’m not blindsiding running backs and quarterbacks any more, but I can’t help but think that dad is silently cheering for me. He sits there, intently studying me as I pace a classroom or teach a class or grade a paper. When I make a particularly brilliant play, he smiles that smile. Even when I don’t do so well, dad looks approvingly on his boy. I can see him, sitting there, big glass of sweet tea on the table, a smile in his eyes, and joy in his heart. I want to make him proud, and I think he knows that.

My last words to my dad face-to-face were spoken around Easter of 2004. I don’t remember everything we discussed, but I remember putting my arm around his shoulders and looking into that face. His eyes were a bit dimmed by senility due to old age and illness. But somewhere in those eyes I saw the place kicker kicking a field goal from the 45 yard line. I remember saying this to him, “Dad, I love you. I’ll see you later.” At his funeral, the pastor asked me to pray at the grave site (actually, my mother asked me to do it). As I walked away from dad’s coffin, I touched the lid and said, “I love you, dad, see you later.”

I miss him, but I thank God I will see him later. If your father is alive, call him up. Tell him you appreciate him and love him. Memories are great, but I’d love to have my dad here to hug again. He’s much better off, but I need his smile. Dad, I love you. See you later.

So, why the cigar dream above? I don't know, but there is something about that glowing red ember in the early morning darkness that comforts me in ways I can't explain. Dad, he was there when needed and made sure people were supported or got where they needed to go. That glowing ember warms me when I'm cold and alone, because I remember how my Dad would show up and bless me. It blesses me when I am hot and bothered because I remember how Dad could make even a difficult situation seem fun and light. Who would have thought that a burning cigar could cause such a connection?

On this Father's Day, I hope you have fond memories of a Dad who was there for you. If not, I know a Father who is close at hand. He is there, he cares. Like my earthly Dad, God is there to direct us with confidence, to be awake when we cannot, and to take us on adventures we have yet imagined. He is the bright glow of life in a dark world. He is the constant that invades our crazy varieties of everyday life. I pray that today will cause you to think of God and his care for you. I pray that you will grow to know him more and more. Blessings!

Thanks for reading!

Annual Father's Day Post

 With Fathers' Day right around the corner, I couldn't think of any better way to honor my Dad than to repost something I wrote years ago. You see, my Dad passed away in 2004, just before I had the privilege of coming to work for Liberty University. My Dad's dream was that I would get to go to Liberty, but you would not believe how excited he was to know that I would be teaching there!

My Dad was quite a man, and almost everyone who ever met him loved him. He could tell some of the funniest stories, but most of all he kept us connected to the history of his family. To be honest, I miss my dad, and I would love an opportunity just to hear his stories all over again. He was a man who loved Jesus and loved to introduce others to Jesus. Some of you never knew him, and I am genuinely sorry. He enriched the lives of so many with his infectious smile and easy generosity. I feel so much poorer without him, but I know he is with the Lord he loves so much. I love you, Dad. Here is the Father's Day note I wrote about him several years ago: 

I first wrote this in 2005, but it speaks volumes about my memories of my dad, Bobbie Eugene Percer, Sr. My dad was a hero to me in many ways, and I am terribly sorry that I never told him that to his face. At his funeral in 2004, literally hundreds of people stood in line for hours to tell us of the way my dad had blessed them. I heard stories of dad witnessing to people and leading them to the Lord, stories of dad giving money or clothes or time or work in order to help someone else find a better path in life, stories of my dad going out of his way to help others, etc. It humbled me. I had no idea how "big" a man my father was, how much of a blessing he was to many people. My dad left some mighty big shoes, and I hope I can be half the man he was. With that in mind, here is the first thing I wrote about my dad way back in 2005.

With Father's day coming up this weekend, I wanted to share some thoughts about my Father. You see, my father passed away in August 2004, and for many reasons thoughts of him have been central in my mind recently. I’m afraid I’m losing him.

Let me explain.

My dad wasn’t very active the last few years of life. Due to his own lack of proper care for his physical body and a host of problems with illness, the primary memory my children have of their grandfather is dad sitting in a big lounger watching TV and occasionally waking up long enough to tease them.

My children did not get to know my dad. Oh, my dad was never the most active guy in the world (I think I know where my own lack of activity comes from!), but he didn’t sit around a lot as I remember it. Dad coached baseball, football, basketball, if it had “ball” in the title, he learned it, played it, and probably coached it. My dad cared about folks that no one else wanted. He loved kids, especially his own. I once saw my dad kick a field goal from the 45 yard line (that’s a 55 yard kick, if you didn’t know!). I was in high school then, so dad was probably in his mid-40s. He could kick the ball further than the place kicker on our team.

I remember looking for dad’s vehicle to pull up at the football practice field. I don’t know if he knew that I saw him, but I looked for him to show up so I could perform for him. Dad didn’t get real excited about sports (that was mom’s job!), but you could tell when he was enjoying something. He had this infectious grin and mischievous smile that would literally light up his face. I heard that for years after my younger brother graduated high school, dad would make his way to the practice field and sit in his car and watch the players go through their paces. For me, his watching was a comforting presence that reminded me that he was there if I needed him. Oh, I’ll admit that I didn’t “need” him as much as he would like, but it made me feel real good to know dad was there.

I miss him.

Sometimes in my work here, I think that dad is sitting in heaven, in his heavenly lounger, watching his boy perform. Oh, I’m not blindsiding running backs and quarterbacks any more, but I can’t help but think that dad is silently cheering for me. He sits there, intently studying me as I pace a classroom or teach a class or grade a paper. When I make a particularly excellent play, he smiles that smile. Even when I don’t do so well, dad looks approvingly on his boy. I can see him, sitting there, a big glass of sweet tea on the table, a smile in his eyes, and joy in his heart. I want to make him proud, and I think he knows that.

My last words to my dad face-to-face were spoken around Easter of 2004. I don’t remember everything we discussed, but I remember putting my arm around his shoulders and looking into that face. His eyes were a bit dimmed by old age and sickness. But somewhere in those eyes I saw the place kicker kicking a field goal from the 45 yard line. I remember saying this to him, “Dad, I love you. I’ll see you later.” At his funeral in August 2004, the pastor asked me to pray at the grave site (actually, my mother asked me to do it). As I walked away from dad’s coffin, I touched the lid and said, “I love you, dad, see you later.”

I miss him, but thank God I will see him later. If your father is alive, call him up. Tell him you appreciate him and love him. Memories are great, but I’d love to have my dad here to hug again. He’s much better off, but I need his smile. Dad, I love you. See you later!

Thanks for reading!

Annual Father's Day Post

With today being Fathers' Day, I couldn't think of any better way to honor my Dad than to repost something I wrote some years ago.  You see, my Dad passed away in 2004, just before I had the privilege of coming to work for Liberty University.  My Dad's dream was that I would get to go to Liberty, but you would not believe how excited he was to know that I would be teaching there!

My Dad was quite a man, and almost everyone who ever met him loved him.  He could tell some of the funniest stories, but most of all he kept us connected to the history of his family.  To be honest, I miss him, and I would love an opportunity just to hear his stories all over again. Some of you never knew him, and I am genuinely sorry. He enriched the lives of so many with his infectious smile and easy generosity. I feel so much poorer without him, but I know he is with the Lord he loves so much. I love you, Dad.

I first wrote this in 2005, but it speaks volumes about my memories of my dad, Bobbie Eugene Percer, Sr. My dad was a hero to me in many ways, and I am terribly sorry that I never told him that to his face. At his funeral in 2004, literally hundreds of people stood in line for hours to tell us of the way my dad had blessed them. I heard stories of dad witnessing to people and leading them to the Lord, stories of dad giving money or clothes or time or work in order to help someone else find a better path in life, stories of my dad going out of his way to help others, etc. It humbled me. I had no idea how "big" a man my father was, how much of a blessing he was to many people. My dad left some mighty big shoes, and I hope I can be half the man he was. With that in mind, here is the first thing I wrote about my dad way back in 2005.

With Father's day coming up this weekend, I wanted to share some thoughts about my Father. You see, my father passed away in August 2004, and for many reasons thoughts of him have been central in my mind recently. I’m afraid I’m losing him.

Let me explain.

My dad wasn’t very active the last few years of life. Due to his own lack of proper care for his physical body and a host of problems with illness, the primary memory my children have of their grandfather is dad sitting in a big lounger watching TV and occasionally waking up long enough to tease them.

My children did not get to know my dad. Oh, my dad was never the most active guy in the world (I think I know where my own lack of activity comes from!), but he didn’t sit around a lot as I remember it. Dad coached baseball, football, basketball, if it had “ball” in the title, he learned it, played it, and probably coached it. My dad cared about folks that no one else wanted. He loved kids, especially his own. I once saw my dad kick a field goal from the 45 yard line (that’s a 55 yard kick, if you didn’t know!). I was in high school then, so dad was probably in his mid-40s. He could kick the ball further than the place kicker on our team.

I remember looking for dad’s vehicle to pull up at the football practice field. I don’t know if he knew that I saw him, but I looked for him to show up so I could perform for him. Dad didn’t get real excited about sports (that was mom’s job!), but you could tell when he was enjoying something. He had this infectious grin and mischievous smile that would literally light up his face. I heard that for almost 10 years after my younger brother graduated high school, dad would make his way to the practice field and sit in his car and watch the players go through their paces. For me, his watching was a comforting presence that reminded me that he was there if I needed him. Oh, I’ll admit that I didn’t “need” him as much as he would like, but it made me feel real good to know dad was there.

I miss him.

Sometimes in my work here, I think that dad is sitting in heaven, in his heavenly lounger, watching his boy perform. Oh, I’m not blindsiding running backs and quarterbacks any more, but I can’t help but think that dad is silently cheering for me. He sits there, intently studying me as I pace a classroom or teach a class or grade a paper. When I make a particularly brilliant play, he smiles that smile. Even when I don’t do so well, dad looks approvingly on his boy. I can see him, sitting there, a big glass of sweet tea on the table, a smile in his eyes, and joy in his heart. I want to make him proud, and I think he knows that.

My last words to my dad face-to-face were spoken around Easter of 2004. I don’t remember everything we discussed, but I remember putting my arm around his shoulders and looking into that face. His eyes were a bit dimmed by old age and sickness. But somewhere in those eyes I saw the place kicker kicking a field goal from the 45 yard line. I remember saying this to him, “Dad, I love you. I’ll see you later.” At his funeral in August 2004, the pastor asked me to pray at the grave site (actually, my mother asked me to do it). As I walked away from dad’s coffin, I touched the lid and said, “I love you, dad, see you later.”

I miss him, but thank God I will see him later. If your father is alive, call him up. Tell him you appreciate him and love him. Memories are great, but I’d love to have my dad here to hug again. He’s much better off, but I need his smile. Dad, I love you. See you later!

Thanks for reading!

Father's Day Sermon: "Act Like Men, 1 Corinthians 16:13-14"

A friend of mine asked me to fill his pulpit on Fathers' Day (June 19, 2011), so I pondered what to share. Almost a year ago I presented a lesson to men at Thomas Road Baptist Church's Wildfire Conference. The lesson was entitled "Act Like Men: Strong Advice for Tough Times." I reworked portions of the lesson for my sermon at Gospel Community Church. The notes are posted below. Comments or questions are welcome!

Act Like Men
Strong Advice for Tough Times
1 Corinthians 16:13-14

Introduction
Happy Fathers’ Day to all you Dads out there

When I realized that I’d be speaking at Gospel Community on Fathers’ Day, I decided to focus my thoughts on men in general instead of only on dads

Of course, what I have to say today will be applicable to all Christians, so I expect the ladies to pay attention as well, okay?

There is a severe lack in our society today of what may be called “mature” people—Just look at the news
Yet another member of Congress behaving badly
Celebrities are acting like children
Even the church is not immune to immaturity

There seems to be a real shortage of mature men

The movie “Second Hand Lions” and the “how to be a man speech”
Our passage today is Paul’s version of “how to be a man” or “how to be mature”

It is strong advice for tough times

All of the statements that Paul uses are commands, they are not options

What do you know about the church in Corinth?

These people were a mess
1. They had divided on doctrinal issues
2. They had split into factions determined by slogans and political posturing
3. They had forgotten what they were taught and become lazy in their spiritual growth/wisdom
4. They had ceased to serve one another and passed judgment on each other to the point of lawsuits
5. They had immoral activity in their church
6. Their marriages were on the rocks
7. They abused their spiritual liberty and hurt one another with it
8. They had no spiritual discipline and had become disorderly in their use of God’s gifts
9. They lost love for one another
10. They had forgotten the power of God’s love and Christ’s resurrection

They needed some mature people to lead them

1 Corinthians 16:13-14

1. Act Like Men/Be Mature

Andrizesthe—Greek term (present tense)
To behave like a man as opposed to acting like a juvenile
Exhibit positive masculine properties
Be mature and be brave

Three characteristics to note here:
a. Spiritual maturity—1 John 2:12-14—John encourages his readers to progress on to a mature position, to leave behind childish things (1 Cor. 13:11-12)—cf. Ephesians 4:13
This maturity comes from the Word of God (1 Peter 2:2; 2 Timothy 3:16-17; 1 John 2:12-14—young men are strong in the Word of God)—this Word of God refers of course to both the written Word (the Bible) and the Incarnate Word (Jesus)—to be spiritually mature requires us to be adept in both (1 Cor. 14:20—the Corinthians need to grow up)

What about us? Where do we need to grow up? Where do we need to stop acting juvenile? What relationships and situations need maturity instead of juvenile selfishness?

b. Courage—John Wesley: “Give me 100 men who fear nothing but sin, and desire nothing but God, and I will shake the world: I care not a straw whether they be clergymen or laymen; and such alone will overthrow the kingdom of Satan and build up the Kingdom of God on earth.”
“Courage is being scared to death, and saddling up anyway.” John Wayne

c. Consistency—a constant process of growth that builds Christ-like characteristics in our lives

The rest of this passage reveals for us what it means to “act like men” or to “be mature” according to Paul

To act like men/to be mature requires us to be on the alert

2. Be on the Alert

“Be watchful” or “be on the alert”—a military term with a strategy in mind that means to be vigilant
It is the opposite of indifference or apathy
It is an active concern to be aware

What happens when those on guard duty fail their watch?
The enemy sneaks in
Others may suffer loss
Someone may die

In the spiritual life of a Christian, watchfulness must be combined with prayer (Ephesians 6:18; Colossians 4:2)

What are the objects of our watching?
a. The enemy (1 Peter 5:8)
b. Temptation (Mark 14:38)
c. False Teaching (2 Peter 2:1; 1 John 4:1)
d. Opportunities to share God’s good news or to do God’s works (Titus 3:1; 2 Timothy 4:5)
e. The return of Christ (Matthew 24:42-44)

To act like men/to be mature means to watch out for each other
Watching out for each other requires a solid foundation in Christ

3. Stand Firm in the Faith

Another “militant” term—Paul is calling on the Corinthians to make a stand, to be recognized, to hold their ground (cf. Ephesians 6:10-11)

1 Corinthians 15:58

There is a connection between being watchful and standing firm
An army on the watch is an army ready to stand
An army caught off guard is an army soon defeated

How do we “stand firm”?
a. Be a disciple/learner—spend time learning the great truths of God from the Bible—search the Scripture to find God’s plan

b. Know what you believe (2 Thessalonians 2:15)

c. Know why you believe it and be ready to offer a reason (1 Peter 3:15)

d. Once you know what and why, act on it—do the truth

Standing firm is like a tree planted with deep roots—it is solid because it has a strong foundation—our foundation is what God accomplished through Jesus and the revelation of his truth in the Bible

Our faith (belief and action) should be an anchor for us (2 Timothy 2:15)

To act like men/to be mature means to make a stand in what God has done
Standing in God’s work requires and results in strength

4. Be Strong

Krataio—refers to a strength in action rather than simply strength in possession
It isn’t how much you bench press, it is how you act when strength needed
The biggest muscles will freeze up if there is no strong character

Ephesians 6:10—”be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might”
Three kinds of strength here—empowerment (be endued with the Lord’s power), strength (a similar word as used in 1 Corinthians), and power (might or muscle)

We must gain power from God, act on what he gives us, and use it to accomplish his purposes

2 Corinthians 10:3-6—we pull down fortresses

What does this strength look like in action? Philippians 2:3-4
God’s power properly applied usually acts on behalf of others

Which brings us to our final point
We have all these “militant” terms, then Paul calls us to love
How do militant ideas fit with a concept of love?

To act like men/to be mature we must be strong—but strength must be always be tempered with love

5. Do All in Love

What’s love got to do with it?
Only everything

God at his most powerful is also God at his most vulnerable
John 1:1-3, 14—God who created all things revealed his glory, grace, and truth by becoming one of us and revealing God among us (i.e., “Immanuel”)

Philippians 2:5-8--Jesus' kind of love
a. Equal with God, but didn’t take advantage
b. Emptied himself, and became a servant
c. Incarnated as a human, he humbly obeyed even to the point of dying for our sins on a cross

How did Jesus love? He gave himself so others could live
That’s the love Paul refers to here

To act like men/to be mature requires us to do all things in love

The Corinthians certainly needed this kind of love (Paul even discussed it in chapter 13 of this book)

Their divisions had caused factions and fighting
They had become rivals instead of brothers
They were engaging in lawsuits instead of love
They were acting like children
They were not watching out for each other
They were not standing firm in the truth Paul had taught them
They were giving in to weakness

Where do we need love? Where do we need to show love?

To act like men, we must learn to do all things in love
That little three letter word “all” is difficult isn’t it?
“All” things—even my marriage? My kids? My job? My business relationships? Even with those who don’t “love” me? Even in situations where showing love could result in a loss for me?
What do you think?

Acting like men/being mature is not easy
No one said growing up would be simple
Paul’s advice here is tough

What Does Love Do?

In our world today, love is not only an important element, it is THE MOST IMPORTANT element.

Without love, watchfulness can deteriorate into a judgmental spirit.
Without love Paul’s commands could lead us to be militant but hardhearted.
Love keeps our firmness from becoming hardness and our strength from becoming authoritarian domination. It keeps our maturity gentle and considerate. It keeps our right doctrine from becoming obstinate dogmatism and our right living from becoming smug self-righteousness. It makes us like Christ.

Love is not easy. In fact, love cost Jesus his life. We need to remember, however, that sometimes the toughest task produces the sweetest results. Look at how God’s love redeemed you!

As Phillips Brooks said, “Never pray for an easier life—pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers—pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then doing your work will be no miracle—you will be the miracle!”

Conclusion

So what do we do? How do we respond to this passage?

Our circumstances are not so different from the church in Corinth
We live in a divided society, live in divided families, even attend divided churches
We have people around us acting like juveniles—blaming others for their problems or only looking out for themselves—we have a lack of “grown ups”—we need some mature men
We have problems creeping in, temptations attacking, people falling, we need someone to be on the watch

Our society and our churches seem at times to be slipping into all kinds of problems or errors or sin. Nothing seems to be solid or firm. We need folks who are on a solid foundation

We need strength tempered by love

We need mature men and women who will
a. Watch out for the church and for others
b. Take a stand for God’s truth and be bold
c. Be strong in God’s power to accomplish God sized tasks
d. Love God and love others as Christ commanded

Our response to this passage is simple
We must act like men, we must be mature and brave
We must go to our homes, our churches, our neighborhoods, our jobs, and embody the principles Paul has described here
We must be willing to be a solid foundation, a trustworthy people, a group of men and women who love each other as Christ loves each of us

This will require us to be creative, to reach out to those others have deemed “unreachable” or “untouchable”

We will need to imitate the life of Jesus in our everyday lives

We must be humble servants looking to bless others with God’s grace

Will we risk it?
If we don’t, who will?
What will our families, our churches, and our world look like if we do?

I’d like to see that!

Thanks for reading!

In Honor of Dad . . . A Repeat

I first wrote this in 2005, but it speaks volumes about my memories of my dad, Bobbie Eugene Percer, Sr. My dad was a hero to me in many ways, and I am terribly sorry that I never told him that to his face. At his funeral in 2004, literally hundreds of people stood in line for hours to tell us of the way my dad had blessed them. I heard stories of dad witnessing to people and leading them to the Lord, stories of dad giving money or clothes or time or work in order to help someone else find a better path in life, stories of my dad going out of his way to help others, etc. It humbled me. I had no idea how "big" a man my father was, how much of a blessing he was to many people. My dad left some mighty big shoes, and I hope I can be half the man he was. With that in mind, here is the first thing I wrote about my dad way back in 2005.

With Father's day coming up this weekend, I wanted to share some thoughts about my Father. You see, my father passed away in August 2004, and for many reasons thoughts of him have been central in my mind recently. I’m afraid I’m losing him.

Let me explain.

My dad wasn’t very active the last few years of life. Due to his own lack of proper care for his physical body and a host of problems with illness, the primary memory my children have of their grandfather is dad sitting in a big lounger watching TV and occasionally waking up long enough to tease them.

My children did not get to know my dad. Oh, my dad was never the most active guy in the world (I think I know where my own lack of activity comes from!), but he didn’t sit around a lot as I remember it. Dad coached baseball, football, basketball, if it had “ball” in the title, he learned it, played it, and probably coached it. My dad cared about folks that no one else wanted. He loved kids, especially his own. I once saw my dad kick a field goal from the 45 yard line (that’s a 55 yard kick, if you didn’t know!). I was in high school then, so dad was probably in his mid-40s. He could kick the ball further than the place kicker on our team.

I remember looking for dad’s vehicle to pull up at the football practice field. I don’t know if he knew that I saw him, but I looked for him to show up so I could perform for him. Dad didn’t get real excited about sports (that was mom’s job!), but you could tell when he was enjoying something. He had this infectious grin and mischievous smile that would literally light up his face. I heard that for almost 10 years after my younger brother graduated high school, dad would make his way to the practice field and sit in his car and watch the players go through their paces. For me, his watching was a comforting presence that reminded me that he was there if I needed him. Oh, I’ll admit that I didn’t “need” him as much as he would like, but it made me feel real good to know dad was there.

I miss him.

Sometimes in my work here, I think that dad is sitting in heaven, in his heavenly lounger, watching his boy perform. Oh, I’m not blindsiding running backs and quarterbacks any more, but I can’t help but think that dad is silently cheering for me. He sits there, intently studying me as I pace a classroom or teach a class or grade a paper. When I make a particularly brilliant play, he smiles that smile. Even when I don’t do so well, dad looks approvingly on his boy. I can see him, sitting there, a big glass of sweet tea on the table, a smile in his eyes, and joy in his heart. I want to make him proud, and I think he knows that.

My last words to my dad face-to-face were spoken around Easter of 2004. I don’t remember everything we discussed, but I remember putting my arm around his shoulders and looking into that face. His eyes were a bit dimmed by senility due to old age and strokes. But somewhere in those eyes I saw the place kicker kicking a field goal from the 45 yard line. I remember saying this to him, “Dad, I love you. I’ll see you later.” At his funeral in August 2004, the pastor asked me to pray at the grave site (actually, my mother asked me to do it). As I walked away from dad’s coffin, I touched the lid and said, “I love you, dad, see you later.”

I miss him, but thank God I will see him later. If your father is alive, call him up. Tell him you appreciate him and love him. Memories are great, but I’d love to have my dad here to hug again. He’s much better off, but I need his smile. Dad, I love you. See you later.

Thanks for reading!