My father suffered intensely with horrible chronic pain from degenerative discs in his lower back. When he could get himself moving, he would go to church with us and he would stand there and worship. Once when I was ten or eleven years old I looked up at him to see his face bright red, sweat pouring down, tears running from his eyes.

I once asked my father why he put his body through the pain to stand there and sing and listen to the preaching of God’s Word. He told me that he hurt too much and was too desperate not to go. That Jesus was all he had and he had to be with him and in his presence. That Jesus was enough. I carry that message with me, that Good News, even through this year of plague when I lost my father.

“What is grief if not love persevering?”