Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live."

January 3, 1971 was a Sunday. I was home for Christmas break from my sophomore year at Grace Bible College in MI, freshly engaged and waiting for Pam, also home on break, to fly up from her hometown of Las Vegas to meet my parents for the first time. My folks had planned an open house later in the week so people from our church could meet her.

It was early, maybe 6 a.m. or so, when dad came in to wake my brother and me up. After we were alert enough to pay attention he told us they'd received word that my sister Kathy and her husband Don were overdue on their flight from his childhood home in Wisconsin back to Holland, MI where he was a youth pastor. A bad storm had moved in quickly from the south and the weather was still too bad for any search effort, but things didn't look good. The most likely possibility was that the Cessna 172 Don was flying had gone down in Lake Michigan.

We went to church that morning where mom took her normal place at the organ and dad taught his adult class. But what stands out in my memory is the way the congregation came around us in support - physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

The weather in the upper midwest didn't clear for days, and when it finally did the Civil Air Patrol spent several more days looking for any sign of their plane both over the lake and in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but without success. We still don't know what happened or where because no evidence of the plane was ever found.

Kathy was five months pregnant with their first child, and if they'd made it home Don would have opened a letter asking him to be the pastor of a church in Illinois. In every respect this seemed like a tragedy.
My parents steadfastly refused to use that word for what happened and corrected anyone who did.
"There can be no tragedy when God is both good and in control, and God is good and in control."

Note: to this day I can't use the word tragedy about anything that happens in our lives. I don't want to be legalistic about it, and I don't correct others, but it's become a personal statement of faith.

Memorial services were held on the same Sunday afternoon three weeks later in our home church in Seattle, in Don's home church in Wisconsin, at Grace Bible College where Don and Kathy had also attended, and at the church in Holland, MI where he was youth pastor. Pam and I attended the service at the college and then drove to Holland to represent our family there. I later listened to the tape of the service in Seattle.

Yeah, I'm probably biased, but they were pretty impressive people. Kathy was brilliant, a straight A student pretty much from K through college. Don was a decent ballplayer, but mostly everybody loved him because of his easy, disarming personality. One of those guys everyone felt at ease around, but also as strong and solid as a rock.

My pastor in Seattle said this presented an opportunity for others to step up. God's perfect will called Don & Kathy home, and their absence meant the need for others to accept the challenge to serve Christ as they had. My understanding is that a half dozen stepped forward at the end of the service to answer that call.

That event was formative for me, and for us, in many ways.

• It played a significant part in my decision to go into ministry. 
• My folks insisted Pam not stay home, but come up as planned, and they hosted the reception. Pam's first introduction to my parents was under the most difficult circumstances, but she very quickly saw first hand what it means to live in faith. She'll tell you she never imagined any Christian could respond with that kind of strength to the death of their child. The bond she formed with them on that visit has continued for 46 years.
• I learned close up how difficult it is for a parent to lose a child to death. Their persistent faith did not lessen their grief one whit. I decided the death of a child is the hardest thing any parent goes through, and that the age of the child is irrelevant. We're supposed to die before our children, not visa versa. This was invaluable preparation for my ministry when, sadly, I was called on to minister to parents at the death of their child. 

I look forward to seeing my sister some day. I'm curious to see what that will be like; will she be as she was at the time of her death at 22? What about the child she was carrying? Will she recognize me? But I have no question; I will see Don and Kathy again. That is the promise of the gospel. Christ died so we could live. 

January 3 of every year always involves thoughts of my sister and her husband. Their plane undoubtedly went down on the 2nd, but this is the day I learned about it, and so the day that's my marker. 

Thank you, Father, for your goodness and sovereignty. We don't always understand, but we purpose to always trust. Thank you for the example my parents set, for a wife who was and is sensitive in every situation, and for the biblical assurance that those who die in Christ live eternally.