Pastor Alfred Long is

MORE THAN A CONQUEROR

Father’s Day 2022

A Father’s Day…with no father

Lawrence Riley, Jr. (1947-2020)

My maternal grandfather

Dear Poppy,

Phew! This is rough. It has been over two years now and I was doing well. The first Father’s Day is tough. It is amazing the things that trigger our memory. Two weeks ago, I went to a conference and my flight connected through LaGuardia. As we began to descend, I immediately remembered the last time I was here, to sleep in the hospital room with you every weekend after your surgery. I do not know what is like to die, but I have first-hand experience watching someone I love die: you. I distinctly remember after your last surgery telling God (with expletives): “He cannot die today”. It was the week before the anniversary of my first year at Central Baptist Church, a celebration of Pastor and people. I let God know in no uncertain terms I needed you alive. So when you told me to stay with you that night I would not stay because I knew what you were trying to do. I do not know the kind of pain or discomfort you experienced, in ICU alone, at the start of COVID-19 but you did it. I needed to gain strength that Sunday to literally make it through that week. Thank you for waiting one more week. Pastoral anniversaries can be so meaningful to pastors on so many different levels; people have no idea. 

In the midst of my own personal crisis, I, along with all of colleagues and mentors were thrust into a leadership crisis with no compass, map or benchmarks. For that reason, I jumped head first right back into work. I did not even think about burying or ignoring my grief…we do not have time to think about ourselves when our role to care for and steward over the lives of other people, not to mention a 8-year old boy looking at me everyday to hold it down. I have learned so many subconscious lessons from you. Earlier this year when I was reflecting, I kept playing our trips over and over again in my head. I went to Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida with mommy and grandma. You made sure that we went to Ocean City, Maryland and Oxford, North Carolina every summer. We would pack up that red van, pack the cooler, load the bike rack and luggage pod and make our way down I-95. You drove. I was the co-pilot. I used to think that you didn’t go on excursions, take special trips or go out because just didn’t want to. You stayed home so that every time we wanted to do something or go somewhere we could. In return, you watched Westerns at home, enjoyed finding new hometown cuisine and drink Crown Royal. A special price to pay to make sure that everything we needed was provided.

You provided in life. You provided in death. Who knew how many insurance policies you had? Seriously. I knew grandma saved and invested. I did not know that you did the same in your own way. You didn’t just provide financially. You also provided emotionally. Many people have the luxury of processing the death of one parent at a time. At the same time, God allowed you to choose to die, grandma was starting the early stages of dementia. You died giving me instructions to get things in order for your wife of over 50 years. When you saw it was too much for me to process you gave me instructions in a dream. Now, I have heard of this before but I have never experienced it first hand. I was shocked but not startled: I will never forget the resonance in your voice.

Grandson.

Yes, Poppy.

How is your grandmother doing?

She’s fine.

Is she a little worse than before?

Yes.

Ask her if she wants to come over here. She knows what she wants. You are not the only one hurting. If she is okay, then you be okay.

I literally wrote a journal on grief…and after a year of neglecting my own personal crisis it became too much. I called a therapist to talk about you. For 30 years your presence eclipsed the absence, rejection of my biological father. Oddly, your death did uncover a void left by my father. It revealed the gapping whole in my heart because you are both grandfather and father. You calling me grandson was more than just a statement of fact but a statement of claim. You are mine and I am yours. I claim you. I am yours, now use this last name well. The therapist reminded me that your death did not catch God off-guard. We are believers, you felt as if you had accomplished what you were here to do, your friends were dying, you could not bear to watch your wife’s mental faculty decline…and God is sovereign. As an outgrowth of the wisdom of God, the therapist challenged me to reframe my thinking. Every person you deeply love (i.e. my son, my mother, my grandmother, my grandfather, my aunt) represent something that ultimately is intended to point us back to God. When Aunt Janie died the source of my faith died. When you died my sense and source of provision and protection died. God never intended for a person to be our source…of faith or provision or protection. I love my family but nothing compares to God’s embrace.

I am so grateful that God allowed me to learn what providing and protecting looks like by watching and learning from but my dependence is on God. It reminds me of how you taught me to pour your drink. 1) Fill the cup with ice. 2) Fill the cup with pineapple soda. 3) No, really fill it up. 4) If you are really that concerned that it is too full, you can take a sip off the top. God is the God of abundance. God has filled us to overflowing with everything with everything we need to serve. I can enjoy a sip off the top every now and then. I am not satisfied with half full when God had made us full. What the world needs we are gifted to provide: a refreshing. People will leave our presence and be refreshed.

All this time I thought I “lost” you when in fact I have won. Strangely, it feels like I have been setup. You know when I was a kid and we used to wrestle on the Saturday morning in you and grandma’s king-size bed, I actually thought I won. I reasoned that I had worn you down and now gained the right to sit on top of our pot belly like WWF and declare victory. I was on top of the world. No, I had not won...but standing on top of you has lifted me higher.

Thank you for everything that you taught me. Masculinity is not toxic. God designed men and God has the right to define manhood.

• Provide financially
• Provide security
• Provide emotionally
• Provide strategy
• Provide posterity
• Provide legacy
• Provide identity
• Provide sacrificially

With love,

Grandson

Rev. Anthony L. Riley, M.Div., D.Min.

Senior Pastor

Central Baptist Church - Saint Louis

P.S.-For all fathers, father figures, male mentors, uncles, surrogate fathers…you name it. Reject what the world says. Rebel against negative culture. Your presence matters. Steward your influence well.

Follow me on Facebook/Instagram/Twitter: @anthonylriley

Author, In the Shadow of Grief: 21 Days of Discovering God’s Presence in Life’s Valleys (Available now on Amazon)