See ya later!

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
(1 Corinthians 15:55–57)

A couple of weeks ago, I received the news that a dear friend of our family was in her final days. She had battled cancer for some time, but the treatments were no longer effective. My parents were heading to visit her in hospice, and I asked them to FaceTime me when they arrived.

As I sat at my desk working, I knew the call was coming. I knew the sound my phone would make. I knew once it rang, everything would feel different. I wondered what I would say. What words could I possibly give that matter when time is almost gone? What do you say when this might be the last call?

Then my phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime.

Honestly, I stared at it for a moment longer than usual. I didn’t want to miss it—but I didn’t want to answer it either. I knew once I answered, there would be no rewinding the moment. As I pressed answer, a smiling face appeared, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Although cancer had taken its toll on her body, it had not touched her joy. While she was only a shell of her former self, she radiated peace.

In that moment, the words of Paul echoed in my heart—Where, O death, is your victory? It wasn’t there. This wasn’t goodbye.

This was a call filled with overwhelming joy… not tears. Not yet anyway.

I told her how precious she was and how she and her husband had touched my life. We laughed as I shared memories, poked fun at my parents, and reminded her—very humbly—how good-looking I am. Then I told her the truth. I told her I was jealous. Jealous that she would see our Savior face to face before I would. Jealous that her waiting was over. The sadness of her absence here was quickly washed away by the joy of her presence there.

I ended our call with a prayer. It wasn’t a prayer filled with sadness or fear, but with gratitude—gratitude for a victory that made this moment different. Because of Jesus, this wasn’t the end. It was simply… see ya later.

That FaceTime ended, but the weight of it did not. It reminded me that there will come a moment when each of us has an incoming FaceTime we cannot decline. A moment when we are forced to come face to face with a truth we often avoid—life is short, and how we live today carries eternal weight. When that moment comes, there will be no editing the story. No rewriting the days. Only the life we lived, standing as our witness.

In my book You Are The Man – Called According to His Purpose, there is a chapter called “I Wonder.” It speaks of the burden left behind when clarity is missing. Wonder is what fills the room when love was assumed but never spoken, when faith was claimed but not lived, when hope was held privately but never shared. It asks the questions that linger after the call ends. Did they really know Jesus? Did they know what mattered most to me? Could I have said or done more? That burden is heavy, and once it’s there, it doesn’t easily let go.

I’ve seen this wonder in the eyes of friends, family members, and people I’ve walked alongside in discipleship. I’ve felt it myself. When my father passed away, I was left with questions I couldn’t fully answer. When my Granny passed, there was no wonder—only peace. Same death. Two very different experiences. The difference wasn’t circumstance. It was clarity.

And clarity doesn’t come at the end of life.
It’s built every single day before it.

It’s built in the way we love people while we still have time. In the way we speak truth when it’s uncomfortable. In whether our faith is something people see lived out, or something they only hear about after we’re gone. It’s built intentionally and consistently, long before the phone ever rings.

The things we prioritize. The love we withhold or extend. The faith we keep private or live out loud. These moments may feel small while we’re living them, but they are anything but small. They are shaping what others will remember—and what questions they’ll be left asking.

Living this way isn’t about fear. It’s about fixing our eyes on Jesus. It’s about remembering that He is the reason death has lost its sting, that He is the reason we don’t live scrambling for meaning at the end. The incoming FaceTime is not hypothetical—it’s coming. And when it does, our confidence will not be found in how well we performed, but in who we trusted.

We want to know that our lives pointed to Him. That our love reflected His love. That our words carried truth seasoned with grace. That the way we lived made it clear where our hope was anchored—not in ourselves, but in Christ alone.

So don’t wait for the phone to ring.

Don’t wait for the moment you can’t undo.

Don’t wait to live in response to what Jesus has already done.

Say what matters while there is time.

Live in light of His grace today.

Love the way He first loved you.

Because one day, for every one of us, the call will come. And for those who are in Christ, it won’t be the end. It won’t be goodbye.

It will simply be—

See ya later.

Written in memory of my friend…Carol