You Can, And You Must.
I had just finished preaching. I was particularly vulnerable to a personal challenge I was facing, acknowledging my frailty in my own strength but my confidence in God’s.
“I can trust Him. And I must trust Him.” That was my declaration to anyone and everyone. To God, the church and myself.
As I was collecting my sermon notes and Bible, I noticed something a little unusual. There was no one waiting for me. Not the first time visitor. Not the sweet saint who always paid me the same compliment, no matter what I said. Not the contrarian who wanted to argue over a minor point.
No one.
It was as if I was radioactive. A leper in the church. Was I too vulnerable, I thought to myself? Too needy? Maybe I was talking about me too much (again).
My moment in my head didn’t last too long. Dante was approaching.
Dante was a large man. He was in the Air Force, played football and broke the Academy’s rushing record for yards gained in a playoff game. He was what many called a beast.
He had four beautiful kids, a wonderful wife (Colleen, also in the Air Force) and a presence. Dante was serious about being a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. His faith and devotion to God was superseded by nothing and no one.
I had asked Dante to preach one weekend at King’s Harbor. It was one of those intuitive decisions. I had never heard him teach or preach before, but I had a feeling. A sense. I wasn’t disappointed.
“You can and you must.”
Huh?
“You can and you must, Pastor Chris. Whatever you are dealing with, you can and you must overcome it with faith, and by faith in Jesus.”
And with that, he prayed for me. A prayer of utter dependence on the Lord as he surrendered me and my burden to the counsel and power of heaven.
It wasn’t many months later that Dante left this world. An invisible hole in his heart burst open one afternoon, and the seemingly indestructible Dante was immediately ushered into the presence of the Mighty One. When the medical stuff informed the family and close friends, I shared the difficult news with Dante’s children. They seemed to already know, and had the peace of Christ that could only have been passed on to them by a devoted father’s gentle and strong instruction.
Colleen has remarried. She and the kids are living on a farm. A very different world than the one they had in the suburbs.
Dante is gone. But will not be forgotten. He was a man who spoke the truth. Spoke truth to power and powers. Was a powerful voice in his momentary existence. Yet he leaves a deposit in many, many lives that is still bearing much fruit. May you be strengthened by his life as well.