I’m nigh onto 62 years-old. It is not hyperbole when I say that Wednesday, September 3, 2025, was the hardest day of my life.

I will not go into detail (details only matter to criminal investigators and gossips), but September 3rd was the hardest day of my life because we had the funeral for my 22 year-old grandson, Kobyn Adam (read his full obituary here). He died under tragic circumstances on Saturday, August 30, 2025.

I suppose my writing this blog is a way of processing my own grief. Pastors aren’t the greatest at grieving. We often have the mindset that we’re supposed to be strong for those who are grieving, so we put on our game face and go to work (or at least that’s what this pastor has done in the past). I really shouldn’t be so flippant to say that pastors have a “game face.” Rather, it is the power of the Holy Spirit that gives us strength to do the hard work of ministry in difficult times.

I will say that the power of the Holy Spirit gave me the strength to get through the hardest day of my life. I chose to preach the message for Kobyn’s funeral. My friend and colleague, Rev. Lamar Oliver, was gracious enough to make the drive to Morgan City to assist with the service. Rev. Oliver served as pastor of Pharr Chapel Church after I was appointed elsewhere and my son and his family continued to attend there. I don’t know that I could have made it through the entire service alone, so I’m grateful for Rev. Oliver’s help and friendship.

So many people asked me, “Why are you preaching the funeral?” or, “How are you able to do that?” The answer to the first question is because I wouldn’t trust the task to anyone else. That’s probably a result of my own insecurities but I simply didn’t believe there was anyone else who would do the job adequately.

The answer to the second question is because when people don’t know what to do they do what they know. I simply didn’t know what else to do, so I did what I know–I preached. Actually, the real answer to the second question is by the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit.

I know I should have taken a step back. I know in my mind that I should have had a few days to just be “Poppy,” and gone through the grieving process with my wife, my son and the rest of the family. I know that in my mind. I just couldn’t convince my heart. In my heart, I had to preach…because, well…when you don’t know what to do…you do what you know…

Unfortunately, I’m feeling a little guilty now because I wasn’t more attentive to my family and I didn’t ask what THEY needed during this time. Should I have taken that step back and just been Poppy to them? Is that what they needed? I suppose even for pastors the default is for self-preservation. I needed to preach for me. I NEEDED to do that for Kobyn.

My bad! It’s not about me and what I need. In my grief, I lost sight of that fact and perhaps I was not as helpful to my family as I should have been. I can only repent and pray the Lord gives me clarity and strength should anything like this ever happen again (God forbid!), to help me focus on the right things and not my own personal need, but on the needs of others (especially those closest to me).

Oh well! What’s done is done and it can’t be undone. My prayer is that I was adequate to the task.

One thing I know for sure: It was providential (no, I’m not Calvinist) that our church (Haughton Methodist Church) was reading through the book of Job during this time. Reading through Job gave me the foundation for the message I preached during the service.

I include the message I preached for Kobyn below for one reason: a person who attended the service reached out to me after the service. She said she had lost her daughter tragically 24 years prior and that my words were the healing she needed after 24 years. I was humbled, honored and blessed by her sentiment, and I took it as affirmation that preaching Kobyn’s service was the correct choice.

No, actually, I’m still not sure it was the correct choice. It could just be that the Good Lord took the lemons I gave Him and made lemonade out of them. He does seem to do that so often. Either way, the words were healing for someone. I include them here so that they might be healing to others who are grieving.

Kobyn’s Funeral Message

I remember the day Kobyn was born. We were standing in the hospital hallway. We could hear all the rustling in the labor and delivery room. Vanessa was so giddy. We heard the first cries of a newborn baby and Vanessa started jumping up and down. She couldn’t wait to see this little guy and to put her arms around him. The smile on her face when they finally brought him out—well, it is indescribable. It was sheer joy! All I saw was a round head—just like mine! That was the first day this guy brought joy to our lives. He’s been bringing joy to us ever since.

The older Kobyn got, the more he looked like me. It wasn’t long until I started calling him “Mini-me” because as an infant and a toddler it was a little uncanny how much he favored my baby pictures. I thought, “Well, he’s going to be a fine- looking young man!” As he grew into adulthood, the similarities faded a bit, but I was still correct—he is a fine-looking young man! Even though he was a young man, I still sometimes referred to him as “Mini-me.”   

I remember Vanessa and me driving, literally all the way across the state of Louisiana to watch his first football game. He was so little. I thought to myself, “He’s gonna’ get killed out there.” Well, he survived, but it didn’t take him too many seasons of football and soccer to realize he wasn’t going to be an athlete. Music became his passion, and just like everything else he ever tried, he excelled at that, too.

I remember the day I baptized this kid. Talk about bringing a Poppy joy. And confirmation, too. I watched as this kiddo gave His musical talents to his local youth group as a member of the praise band. I’d go to youth group on Sunday evenings just to hear he and Kade lead in worship. Oh, the insufferable youth group games one had to endure just to get to worship, but it is one of the ways this guy continued to bring joy into our lives.

I could stand here all day and recount memories I have of Kobyn. You don’t want to be here that long. Besides, you have your own memories that are special. I encourage you to hold those memories close. Those memories are one way the Lord gives us to grieve the loss we feel today and there is great grace and not a little therapy that comes in remembering. 

I will especially remember one very special connection Kobyn and I shared. During a very difficult time in both of our lives, when we were separated by distance and didn’t get to see a lot of each other, we stayed connected through the game of chess. He loved to play chess. He was teaching his cousin Skyler to play chess and checkers…but anyway…he had me download a chess game on my phone, created me an account, and we played chess together online. Games would take weeks at a time. He almost always prevailed—he relished in beating Poppy at chess. It brought me great joy to lose to him over and over again.

For all the joy this kiddo brought me through the years, like you, I’m struggling to find any joy today. I am asking the same question you are asking—“Why?” Honestly, I’m not finding any answers.

I can’t think of the question “Why?’ without thinking of the man named Job in the Old Testament. I’m not going to read a lot of scripture from that Old Testament book because it’s just too long but let me give you the Lynn paraphrase: The Bible says Job was a good and righteous man. He lived with integrity and had a deep reverence for God.

I won’t go deeply into the details—I’ll trust you will read it for yourself—suffice it to say that even though Job was a good, just and upright person, tragedy came his way. Through absolutely no fault of his own he lost every one of his children through tragic circumstances. He was a rich man, too, but tragedy stole his riches, as well. Job’s tragic loss—which he couldn’t understand—caused him to ask the question “Why?”

As I’ve read the book of Job over the last week, I counted at least 20 times that Job asked God the “Why?” question. And, each time he asked the question (some would argue it was 25 times—but those were more implied questions than direct questions) he didn’t get an answer. All he got were platitudes from friends. What he got from God? Silence.

That’s how we feel, too. We’ve asked a thousand times over the last five days, “Why?” and we’ve not heard the Lord answer the question once. It makes us angry, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be angry with God. He can handle it. He’s not going to get mad at us for anger in our grief, but He’s still not likely to answer our questions.

What I realized as I read through Job again is that the story of Job in the Bible is not a story about Job’s suffering through the tragic losses in his life, but rather it is a story about Job’s faith through the tragic losses of his life. Even though Job had a lot of questions for God, he never lost his faith IN God. Just as with Job, the story of our lives are meant to be stories of faith. Will our faith bring us through this tragedy? That’s the question for this hour on this day.

No, I haven’t heard any answers to my questions. Job suffered, and for 35 chapters he poured his heart out to God as he listened to the platitudes of family and friends. Finally, all God does is ask Job some very pointed questions: “Where were you when I laid out the foundations of the universe? Can you make it rain?” Like Job, we ask God the hard questions of why, and like Job, God doesn’t answer us in any way that seems reasonable to us.

Why doesn’t He answer? Two reasons I can think of. First, knowing the answer would not make the burden any less hard to bear. Explanations are intellectual, passive and touch only our minds. Suffering is physical, active and God acted by suffering in His Son, Jesus, to deal with the issue of sin, evil and suffering in the world.

Second, God doesn’t answer because we are incapable of comprehending the answer. We simply cannot see how God uses the ordinary (or extraordinary) circumstances of our daily lives to effect redemption, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t doing it. We can’t see the grand sweep of eternity, nor can we see God’s plan for creation or even for our own lives—as long or short as they may be.

Receiving no answer leads us to believe that God is absent. Job certainly thought so (Job 23: 8-9)– “But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. ⁹ When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.”

Trust me when I tell you this: God is not absent. He is at work through this. If He seems absent, perhaps He is, as an old Catholic nun told me, so close that we can’t see Him. I believe with all my heart that He was present with Kobyn Saturday morning, holding him and loving him with a love deeper than the deepest sea. And I believe that He is present with us now loving us in the same way—even though in this moment He seems so silent and so distant.

I agree with the Apostle Paul who reminds us in Romans 8 that there is nothing in life or in death that will ever separate us from God’s love in Jesus Christ, His Son. Nothing can separate us. If I believed it before Saturday I have to believe it now—that’s what faith is—and our stories, like Job’s, are meant to be stories of faith.

Our stories are meant to be stories of faith because God has chosen us to be participants with Him in the redemption of His creation. Literally, from cover to cover, the Bible is about God restoring His creation, and God chose us to be participants in that restoration. We participate by faith.

God sent His son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross. God entered the world, limiting Himself to time and space, and when He did, He played by the same rules we play by. He suffered and died. A man as Jesus was, full of grace and compassion, so willing to give Himself in service to the world, it made no sense for the world to kill him. It was in his suffering and death that the world finds its redemption, and it is in his suffering and death that we are called to be participants by faith in God’s eternal plan.

Yes, I know, that doesn’t answer the questions we’re still asking but it’s all I’ve got.

So, what next? Let me offer three brief responses that will hopefully enable us to take another step in redeeming our circumstances. First, grieve—deeply. It’s okay. Grief is as human an emotion as joy. I recall King David in 2 Samuel 18 who lost a son through quite tragic circumstances. In his grief, he wished he could have traded his life for his son’s. We can’t, even though in our grief, we sure would like to. Grieve with deep grief. It’s natural. Don’t wallow in it, but go through it with faith.

That’s the second thing we must do—trust. If I believed God was a good, loving, kind and just God before Saturday, then I have to believe that He is still just as good, loving, kind and just today. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. He didn’t change because our circumstances did. Kobyn is in the hands of the God who loves him and who loves us. By faith, I’m trusting in Him to get us through this.

Finally, we need to serve. Remember, the Lord is calling us to participate with Him in the redemption of all creation. There are others who have walked this same journey. There are others who will soon walk this journey. Statistics tell the tale of a rising mental health crisis, especially among young men. If we would find any redemption in this tragedy, let us become advocates for all those who struggle with mental health issues. Let us walk with others through their grief so that they might find hope in Jesus Christ.

God has redeemed and is redeeming the world through suffering—first His Son’s, and now through ours. Will we participate with Him by our faith?

Many friends have reached out to me over the last several days. One word that has been used several times is “remarkable.” They said, “Kobyn was a remarkable young man.” I corrected them, “Kobyn IS a remarkable young man.” Let us never refer to those we love who die in the Lord in the past tense. He is alive, maybe more alive than he’s ever been. I believe that!

So, I’ll miss you, buddy, but I know where you are. I know I’ll see you soon. Fly high, Mini Me, and rest well until that day. Poppy loves you now and always! Amen!

Conclusion

Perhaps someone else will find the words healing. They have helped me along in my own grief as I’ve read over them at least four times in the past week. The answers to the “Why?” question is still not clear and may never be, but I’m trusting the Lord to get us through…perhaps one blog post at a time.

Until next time, keep looking up…