A few weeks ago my seven-year-old he informed me that he wanted to be eight but not any

older than eight.

Buddy, why don't you want to be any older than eight?

I asked.

Well, because when you get old, you die. I just had my 38th birthday this week so you can pray for me.

A seemed safe and exciting enough.

Apparently he has some eight-year-olds in his class, but nine.

Now that was a different story.

Nobody knows what might happen then.

Better stick with eight.

It's a sobering thing, isn't it, to watch your children start to grow up

and wrestle with a reality like death.

I think our verses this morning here in Philippians 1 are a great help to dads and moms and teenagers 20-somethings and 60-somethings who are

asking the biggest questions that we ever ask.

What's going to happen when I die?

And what does it mean to truly live?

A couple years ago, June 28, 2021, my then 64 year old dad had a heart attack. I'll never forget the moments that I spent beside his hospital bed that week waiting for

quadruple bypass surgery.

I felt my own mortality in those moments as I watched the strongest man I'd ever

known suddenly fighting for his life. I know some of you experienced this too.

When you're growing up, dad is the embodiment of strength, almost immortal.

If a toy breaks, Dad'll fix that.

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