Yesterday I posted something written by my friend in June of 2017. Later that month I officiated at the wedding of his youngest daughter. Four months later he went to be with His Lord and Savior.  What follows is the tribute I wrote on the day of his funeral.

Thursday morning I got a phone call that no one wants to get. My friend had died very unexpectedly. Through the numbness I tried to comprehend what I was being told. I would never again in this life be able to pick up the phone and hear the voice that had been my confidant and brother for over 40 years.

Truth be told, we were still trying to adjust to his wife’s death from cancer 17 months earlier, and we saw that one coming. Now this.

Death is an enemy. We don’t like it. It hurts. But we temper that with the assurance that Jesus has conquered death for us.

Jesus lives! And now is death
But the gate of life immortal;
This shall calm my trembling breath
When I pass its gloomy portal.
Faith shall cry as fails each sense:
Jesus is my confidence!

 I met Greg when I transferred to Concordia Lutheran College in Austin in the middle of my freshman year. We quickly became friends. We were both preacher’s kids, and our shared faith in Jesus was part of what made our bond so strong. We sang in the college choir together, along with the girls who would become our wives. We were always at ease with each other. We could and did talk about absolutely everything in our lives.

While I have always loved music, Greg had an enormous gift and talent in that area. I would sit and listen to him play his guitar and sing for hours on end, sometimes singing along. He continued to hone and use that gift throughout his life and used it to share his faith in Jesus. It was a way he expressed himself. And he was always telling me about and teaching me new songs. He introduced me to Big Daddy Weave. And he was excited that he had tickets to go see Crowder on Friday. But just imagine the concert he got to see instead!

Greg was a tremendously gifted wordsmith. Over the years he would share things with me that he had written, and I was always in awe. Like the conversation he had with God that he posted online and was reprinted in his memorial folder. (And I now shared it on my timeline!) He published a book on being a disciple of Jesus, which tied in to his passion for helping college-aged people stay connected to Christ. Writing was cathartic for him, the way he poured out his soul and shared his deepest thoughts and emotions.

We talked about once a month. We would also email each other when a thought struck us that we wanted to share. Our phone calls were rarely less than 30 minutes. We would talk about life, theology, our kids and grandkids, and most of the time we would make each other laugh. Somewhere along the way, at the close of one of our conversations, I said, “Give Deb a hug and tell her it’s from me.” He replied, “You do the same with Cheryl.” That became a regular closing for a while, until one day I said, “You know what to do.” And his response was “And also with you.” And for over 20 years, almost every conversation ended that way. For the last year and a half, I had to catch myself so I didn’t say that to him.

I am about to go to his memorial service. I chose not to speak there today because I know I would not be able to get through it. I doubt I’ll be able to sing any of the songs or hymns. But through my tears I will be rejoicing that another redeemed sinner has received through faith the reward that Jesus earned for him with His life and death and resurrection. And I wanted to share this tribute to my friend. Greg was a blessing from God to me. And I thank God for that. Because of our shared faith in Jesus, I look forward to seeing him again. Auf wiedersehen, Roomie. You know what to do.