My Friend Chad

        My friend Chad Kirkendall fought the good fight.  If ever anyone fought the good fight it was Chad.  He was strong, courageous and faithful against impossible odds.  His entire life was an inspiration, his optimistic spirit was contagious, and his unquenchable faith was a powerful witness to all. 

        I first met Chad when he was in high school.  He always had that winsome personality and that charming smile, even as a teenager.  I remember the excitement when Chad and Holly were engaged and we planned their wedding.  It was a unique time of joy and happiness for all of us.

        Then came that terrible Saturday when I had to call Chad and tell him the news over the phone that no one should ever have to hear that way.  His father had died suddenly of a massive heart attack.  Joyce and I had gone to the house to tell Becky.  Kristi and Dave were on the church retreat down at Caswell.  Chad didn’t deserve to hear the news that way, but at that moment I reasoned his mother needed him more.  We didn’t feel that we could leave Becky, so I called Chad to not only tell him of the tragedy of his father’s death, but that his mother needed her son.  In just a few minutes he was there. 

        I remember how, even then, he handled that devastating news with such dignity, courage, and grace. 

        Bobby was gone, but the sadness that Chad and all the family felt was soon tempered by the joyful news that Holly was expecting.  Chad would soon be a daddy and they were having a baby boy!

        We left to go to Belize that summer on the youth mission trip knowing that the baby would probably be born while we were gone.  I remember Chad’s joyous grin as he relished in the excitement and anticipation of his son’s birth.  I remember saying something to Chad like, “You’ll be a daddy by the time we get back.”

        He was.  But once again there was tragedy.

        Matthew was born but there were immediate complications.  Shortly after his birth he died.  Chad and Holly were devastated.  It should not have happened.  Especially not to this deserving couple.  They had recently experienced one tragedy, now another.  He had lost his father.  Now he lost his son.

        I arrived home in time for the funeral.  It was one of the saddest gatherings I could ever recall.  Little Matthew’s casket was so small, yet the grief was so large.  A very big crowd of mourners, everyone with broken hearts, stood by—everyone wanting to do more than was humanly possible.  Everyone was united in a common grief. 

        I remember going to see Chad and Holly shortly after the funeral.  As a minister, I deal with sadness and crisis on a daily basis, but rarely had I ever experienced anything as heartbreaking as this.  Chad and Holly were thrown into a deep, dark pit of grief.  The pain was agonizing. There was a void, a gap, never to be filled.

        Chad’s effervescent smile didn’t disappear completely, but it was mighty dim.  Slowly, gradually, and painfully, he started to recover.  Matthew would always be a part of Chad’s life, in a much larger way that any of us could imagine at the time, but we could see Chad and Holly emerging from the valley of darkness and slowly returning to the light. 

        There is always a light that shines in the darkness.  There is always hope on the horizon of despair.  One day we heard the exciting news that Holly was expecting again!

        Chad and Holly were blessed again with the gift of life, only this time it was a double blessing!  After the tragedy at Matthew’s birth, there were many, many prayers as Holly approached her delivery date.  God answered those prayers in a wonderful way when Ella Grace and Kate Elizabeth were born.  Everyone who knew Chad and Holly rejoiced.  Yes, God is good . . .

        And then . . .

        The first time I realized something was wrong with Chad was late last year when I saw him at the church.  He was limping and I asked him what was wrong.  He didn’t know.  I never thought it would be anything serious.

        I saw Chad again early in the year.  His limp was much more pronounced and Chad was very frustrated that the doctors could not figure out what was going on.  He was going the next week to have some more tests run.  Surely, there is an explanation.  Surely, this is something that can be resolved. 

        There was an explanation . . . .

        Most of you know the rest of the story.  The news kept going from bad to worse.  Chad never got a break.  Sunday morning Chad died at the Hinkle Hospice House.  Life isn’t fair and if anyone has experienced this truth, it has been Chad.

        Throughout this entire ordeal I have witnessed the most remarkable and courageous journey of faith.  Chad never gave up, never lost his faith, never lost hope.  Even in the end when it was apparent that physical healing would not take place, Chad believed that God had a bigger plan.  Chad is one of the strongest, most courageous men I have ever known.

        Chad’s journey has been an inspiration to thousands of people.  He has touched people in ways that we will never know.  Through social media, his story has been told across the nation.  God has used Chad in a powerful way.

        I don’t pretend to understand why good people like Chad suffer.  Several people asked me if my last article about hoping in the “not-yet” was about Chad.  It wasn’t directly, but I certainly had him in mind.  (The article is below this one)

        Last week I had a visit with Chad.  I said, “Chad, I don’t have any answers.  I don’t even know the right questions.  But something tells me that a thousand years from now it will not matter.  We will all be together and we will all understand.”

        Chad smiled—that amazing smile.

        On Sunday morning Chad smiled as never before when we walked into the arms of Jesus, and his daddy, and his son . . .