The Grace of God in My Father's Passing

I don't know that I will ever have the words to capture all that the Lord has done in our lives these past two years, but I want to document them to remember, to praise God, to give thanksgiving to Him. My memories are already fading, but may my praise and gratitude go up as incense to the Lord forever. 

This is not what you include in a eulogy. It is not what you want people to highlight or for people to even know about your dad, but it is the truth. My father, was not perfect, as no man is. He was always the most loving and sacrificial father, selflessly serving and sticking to his virtues with awesome integrity. But there were sins, the type of anger or meanness that most everyone could fall into, often typical of Korean men. Maybe it was the liver toxins that aggravated him more. Maybe it was the culture he grew up in to not find these types of sins worth repenting over, but it made me sometimes question why the Lord had not transformed him into Christ-likeness. With fear of eternity, it made me wonder whether he was a virtuous church man, or truly saved. 

My sister and I, being unsure, prayed that the Lord would do whatever it took to rid him of these stubborn sins. That we would get to see more fruit, more adoration for Christ, more delight in His Word, more love for eternal things. If he wasn't yet saved, save him. If he was truly saved, may he be further sanctified to live in a manner that made us no longer doubt in any way. Bring sanctification, with whatever refining fire it takes. 

And the Lord answered. 

At first, we saw the steadfast faith of a man who did not fear death, because he knew firmly where his faith and trust lay, in the finished work of Jesus Christ. We saw a man who looked at a diagnosis of stage 4 liver cancer, already metastasized to the lymph nodes, and still believed unwaveringly in a God who is able to save and will save if He so desires.  

Then, when the pain and suffering came, we saw a man who turned not to screens or sleep for distraction, but dove into the Word. Faithfully leading family worship with his wife every night. Listening to worship music and literally crying out to the Lord all day. Though he had more reason to than ever before, he did not lash out in irritation. Though I would've watched tv to make the hours fade away, he worked when he could, and rested in the truth of the Lord when he could not. 

I can't pinpoint when it began to occur, but we began to see the fruit of the Spirit as laid out in Scripture. Through the cancer, God showed us the kindest version of my dad, the gentlest, the most self-controlled, the most forgiving, the most loving. A dad who apologized to me and encouraged me, when I was the one who had foolishly lashed out at him. A dad who reminded us constantly of his love and gratitude. 

Finally, when his strength was giving way and his body could no longer do the many things he wanted to, my dad's clear priority was to worship God. Every ounce of effort went to making it to church on Sunday morning and Wednesday night. All his breath went to singing the praises of God. And in the last days on his death bed, the best of his concentration went to listening to the preaching of the pastor during his visits. 

There's so much more that the Lord has granted in this season that I want to remember and be grateful for:

• That we never had to agonize over medical decisions. There was always a clear next step, and when there were no more steps to take, being home and being comfortable was the obvious choice. Everyone was in agreement. 
• His pain was only pain. And there is medication for pain, and we had it. He did not suffer from anything that could not be relieved by medication. 
• He had finished his core responsibilities as a father. He had raised two daughters, married them off, and seen them established with God-fearing husbands and children to love. 
• He had prepared well. He had all his account emails and passwords written down. He had social security benefits lined up for his wife. He had retired and sold his business just a year before he got sick. He had even already purchased a grave plot decades before. He always prioritized taking care of us in every way possible.
• He did not suffer during the middle of COVID. He had family and church all around him. We could visit and come and go and enjoy time together. Hundreds were able to come to his funeral and celebrate his life and the way he had poured out his generosity on all of us. 
• I got to be with him in his last weeks of life. I got to take care of him, hold him physically up, use the body he gave me to bear his weight. We joked every time I helped him stand up from the bed and shuffle over to his wheelchair that it was time again to dance together. I got to hold his hand and stroke his hair as we did the things for him that he did for me when I was a baby.
• I got to sing hymns to him. I got to give him as many kisses on the cheek and forehead as I pleased. I got to say goodnight to him with Martyn 3 nights before he passed, telling him I loved him, and letting my son say so as well. I got to hear him say I love you to both of us, when I hadn't even been sure that he was able to listen. 
• I got to come when my mom called in worry when he had a last spasm of pain 2 nights before he passed. I got to be the one to reassure him, and tell him it was going to be okay, and that we saw he was in pain and would bring more medication. I got to crush and ready the pills that brought him relief. I got to pick them up for free from the pharmacy. I got to advise my mom whenever a new pain came as to which combination would be wise. 
• I got to call Kaiser Hospice whenever a new problem arose. I got to advocate when his pains weren't best cared for, when his issues weren't prioritized. I got to translate for my mom and be there with her, even if it was just on the phone. I got to comfort them both, making sure they knew their daughter was doing all she could to make sure they got what they needed.
• I got to hear his wisdom in the last few months with new ears to hear. I was an adult, talking to another adult. I was a spouse, talking to a man who had long learned what makes a good spouse. I was a parent, talking to a dad and grandpa who had always advised well, without forcing his opinion to be obeyed. 
• We got to hear from the hospice nurse, that there was truly nothing else we could have done. That we had not made a mistake to make him like this, we had done everything right, that his time had simply come. That he was in comfort now and would be resting until it was time to truly leave us. 
• All his friends got to come. They all had a chance to sit by his bed, say their thank you's and goodbyes, and their presence was a reminder once again of how beautifully my dad had lived, loving others so joyfully and giving himself to them. 
• He heard and understood that my sister was not yet there. He waited, knowing he had to hold on until she came. Her flights were changed in time. My husband made it in time. Our children were watched by their loving fathers, allowing me and my mom and my sister to be at his hands and face as he took his last breaths. 
• I got to hold his hand and tell him how grateful I was for everything he did, tell him how wonderfully he lived his life, as the life passed out of him. As the angels ushered his soul into glory. 

There is much else to be thankful for, and I am sure I'm missing some of them, but this last confidence is what I praise God most for. That we know where he is, in eternal glory before God. That we got to glimpse the blazing, sanctifying work of the Father, the answers to our prayers. That we lived with the most beautiful and Christ-like version of our father in his last days. 

If you've read any of these thoughts, may this be left with you - pray not against cancer, against suffering, or against even death. Welcome it, should it bring about with it the faith and regenerating work of the Spirit. For it is better to lose the whole world, and gain Christ, than to lose your own soul.