I can hardly believe that I’m writing this.\u00a0 I discovered on Easter that Dr. David had passed away, and it’s taken me this long to decide what I wanted to write, how I wanted to remember him, and what I wanted to say to his family, even though we never met or spoke.<\/p>\n
Even though I’ve heard many of Dr. David’s sermons over the years, the one that stuck with me the most came in the summer of 2003, when\u00a0 a little girl, whose family belonged to the church, died in a freak accident playing in her backyard.\u00a0 The entire congregation was in shock about her passing, and I knew that Dr. David would address her passing at the next service.<\/p>\n
He talked at length about what a wonderful child she was and how he knew God was taking good care of her.\u00a0 Toward the end of his sermon, he confessed that while praying to God and asking for guidance on how to help her family and the congregation in dealing with her passing, he said, “God, I am sick and tired of trying to make you look good!”<\/p>\n
He paused, and added, “Then I heard God tell me, ‘Son, I don’t need you to.'”<\/p>\n
I realize now that Dr. David was right; he didn’t need to make God look good, because evidence of God’s goodness is all around us, even in times of pain, like now.\u00a0 While I am crushed that he is gone and will miss tuning in on Sunday mornings for his messages, I am so aware of how lucky I am to have had his words and his message for as long as I did.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I can hardly believe that I’m writing this.\u00a0 I discovered on Easter that Dr. David had passed away, and it’s taken me this long to decide what I wanted to write, how I wanted to remember him, and what I (…)<\/p>\n