A "good" man died. (Just not when you think.)
Let me introduce you to someone. He died Sunday. But his most important death happened decades ago.
My wife’s grandfather died Sunday. Easter. He was 85. But a “good” man didn’t pass away. No, that happened years ago. A redeemed man is the one that went to be with Jesus. And it’s a beautiful reminder. Let me explain.
The Tom I got to know over the last 15 years was a kind, funny, soft man. He was a gentle giant in every sense of the overused term. He had a thick Southern drawl that was straight out of a John Wayne film. He loved my children well. Beautifully. He was witty, smart, and calm. He was the quintessential “Pawpaw,” as my wife and kids called him.
But he wasn’t always that way.
As my wife and others tell it, for many years he was hard. Harsh even. There were plenty of rough edges that were like sandpaper on those around him. I guess you could say there was something missing.
And yet, the people around him would have still called him a “good man.” He was faithful, loyal, and hard-working. Even though he might not have showed his love and affection perfectly, they knew it was there. His employer trusted him. He raised four incredible daughters and protected them. He honored his wife. He sacrificed for others. He served his country.
By so many standards, then, he was “good.” But “good” wasn’t cutting it.
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