Lessons learned from the life and death of a father...

The End Game

by Sean Warren

I thought it would be easy to write an article describing how my father passed the spiritual baton to me, and how I am trying to pass it along. It became, instead, an intensely personal reflection on my father’s life and recent death.

Oshall Warren was a man of humble beginnings and hard work. He was one of 11 children born to a farmer/pastor in southeast Missouri. He had an eighth grade education (because the farm needed help when he was a boy), but earned his GED while serving in the military. His life was full of rich experiences—farming, raising cattle, owning a saw mill, traveling in the military, owning real estate, working the freight docks of St. Louis, being a father of six, a husband of one, a deacon, and mentor to hundreds. He enjoyed golf, and had an incredible ability to skip a golf ball across a water hazard or use a tree to find the center of the fairway.

He taught me how to play chess as a young boy: how the pieces move and some of the basic strategies of the game. As my game developed, I realized the importance of the different stages of the game. You need a solid opening, a developed middle, and an end game that is calculated and flawless. Otherwise, you might lose as a result of a foolish move at the end. You always have to think with the end in mind, and that is where I would like to start, with the end of my dad’s life.

Dying Like He Lived

My dad was 81 when he died from cancer. It came out of nowhere and ravaged his body. The doctor told him to expect three to five years in April, and he was dead in August. Dead. My rock, my anchor, my advocate, my counselor, my friend, my father was dead. I miss him so much, but I would not want him back on this earth for anything. I am sure he is having the time of his life right now.

One of the most fascinating things about Dad’s death was how he embraced it, and how he managed his time as it approached. He wanted to be close to his family, he wanted frank and honest conversations with everyone, and he wanted to point to Christ in everything. In short, he died like he lived, and that is one of the greatest lessons I learned from Dad’s life.

Before I make my dad sound like a super saint, I want you to know he was the first to admit his failings—another attribute that made him great in my eyes. He admitted, often with tears, how he should have been more and done more for Christ. Early in life, his priorities were out of balance, working so hard for the church that he neglected his wife and kids. Later in life, he regretted not spending more time with my brothers. (I was the last.) Because he was transparent and vulnerable enough to share this, it has helped me in safeguarding my time and protecting my family.

Forthrightness is a word and character trait that has been lost in society today. My father instilled this deep in me. Be a man of your word, call a spade a spade, let your yes be yes and your no be no. This dedication to truth often put him in uncomfortable positions. He often had to confront, but always with the person’s best interests at heart.

Proverbs says an open rebuke is better than hidden love (27:5). For Dad, to love someone and silently watch him or her go down the wrong road was tantamount to hatred. So he spoke. But if he spoke, it meant he loved you more than he disliked the confrontation.

My dad kept secrets—his good deeds. Once I needed something in my dad’s chest of drawers. In my search, I found many checks he had written for ministries, camps, people, etc. It was an amazing level of financial sacrifice, the kind that can only be made when you are thinking with the end in mind. His pleasures came from giving, not getting.

At his funeral, a lady drove from another state to pay her respects. She had not seen my father for decades, but his encouragement and generosity inspired her to drive hours to say to his family, “He was compassionate and generous.” Once, my father purchased a home air conditioner for a paraplegic man and his family. I had no idea, but they remembered. This has inspired me to be more committed to giving to others in secret. In fact, I have been doing this for some time, and I can’t wait to look back with the satisfaction of knowing God’s word is true. It is more blessed to give than to receive.

Pop also possessed a keen knowledge of his position in Christ. He knew what his life was like before Christ, and he knew what grace did for him. I never heard him talk boastfully about his “time in sin.” His sinful life was squarely in the past, and that is where he left it.

I never (and I truly mean never) heard my dad gossip about anyone. In fact, I asked him jokingly to gossip for me before his death, and without a second’s hesitation he said: “You wouldn’t like what people have been saying about you!” He was always a jokester, but I wonder how much negative conversation he killed by not repeating it.

My dad had a good name. During the last few days of his life, scores of people dropped by to see him. One man, a multimillionaire, told me my dad was the closest thing he had to a father. Another woman sent me this message: “Sean, I never knew my father on this earth, but I always thought that if I could have one, I would want him to be like yours.”

Reflecting on these things, I am crying:

God, I want to say thank You for putting a person in my life that reflected the Bible in so much of his life. Thank You, God, for allowing me to experience love that has inspired me, to witness character that has encouraged me, and to have watched a life and death that was absolutely glorious.

Passing It On

The last words I spoke to my father were, “Oshall Warren, you are a good man.” But now it is my turn to be that good man. I want my children to say that of me when I am dying, and my grandchildren to say that of them.

So how do we pass that baton? Here are ten ways I am working to pass my father’s qualities, characteristics, and values to my kids:

1. I take my girls on dates. Even though they are little, I spend individual time listening, learning, and laughing. Time is the greatest gift I can give them.
   

2. We watch and talk about the news. As a kid, I watched the ten o’clock news with dad. He believed Christians should know what is going on in their world. I agree. The news is a topic of conversation around our dinner table.
   

3. I leave my Bible open on my desk to the passage I have read in the morning. I cannot tell you how often I saw an empty coffee cup beside a “Daily Bread” and an open Bible. These were observable evidence of my dad’s daily spiritual life. I want my girls to see me reading the Bible.
   

4. I pray with my kids at night. While my dad didn’t do this often, his prayers are legendary to me. Using “the king’s English,” he prayed with conviction and his prayers made me think. I want my kids to learn something about God by how I address Him in prayer.
   

5. I love my wife. While easy to overlook, the healthy expression of love for my wife allows my girls to feel good about Mom and Dad and their affection for one another.
   

6. I try to love at all times. At times, I got into a fight at school (who hasn’t?). I knew my dad loved me regardless—an example of Christ in him. I hope to do the same for my daughters.
   

7. I have deep regard for my extended family, and look to be with them any time I can. My dad said, “No one can take your family away from you, and they are all you’ve got when the chips are down.”
   

8. I risk myself for the gospel. Dad was keenly aware of life and eternity. I often talk to my girls about daring to do great things for God by being who they need to be in Christ every day. The day will come when they, too, will risk themselves for the gospel.
   

9. I give my kids high standards in Christ because He deserves it. My father set standards for me, and I will help my kids be set apart from this world.
   

10. I forgive others, myself, and my girls.

You are going to die. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but you will. All you will leave are the memories of either your best or your worst. Are you living to pass on the best parts of yourself? Be the man or woman you need to be in Christ. Then you can die like you lived.

About the Writer: Sean Warren has one wife, Jill, three daughters Sophia, Lola, and Isabella, and four Apple computers. He likes long walks on the beach, long plane rides to unknown countries, and short lines in the drive-thru.