Writing a blog post about my deceased father on Father’s Day weekend seemed so cliché, unspectacular, and anticipated. For the last two weeks I fought hard not to give in. My mind was fully determined to remain silent; yet, my heart was pleading for a chance to honor, to remember, to form its feelings into words that could be shared. To truly honor my father, my heart had to win, because during his lifetime, my father wanted so desperately to help, teach, and lovingly guide other fathers to the heart of God.

When my father traveled to multiple foreign countries for the express purpose of living out—and therefore giving out—the love and gospel of Christ, he left part of his heart in each country. When he spoke in literally hundreds of churches over the course of his lifetime, with a desire to help strengthen families, churches, and individuals by teaching them to focus on Christ, he left part of his heart in each church, camp, or institution. When he was no longer able to travel and later became confined to his house due to the effects of Parkinson’s disease, he generously gave his heart to those who took the time to stop by and learn from him and to those who loved him dearly and were around him on a daily basis.

You see, he was always very present wherever he was: such that I knew that when I needed him, I had his full attention. He not only gave me life; he gave me his heart. Yet he gave me something even greater than that: he taught me by his life that because he had given his heart to Christ—the One Who loved him with an unconditional, forgiving, amazing love and Who provided extravagant grace for him to believe in Him—he wanted his actions to stem from the fact that his heart was longing for its heavenly home.

Because of that, “things” were insignificant. Because his heart was fixed on its final destination, his focus held its gaze on the One Who dwelt there. Because he loved the Lord his God with all his heart, he could freely give his heart to others.

Was his heart perfect? No, no, a thousand times no. (In fact, that’s not only a figurative statement; it is quite literal: five bypasses and open-heart surgery to have a valve replaced, in spite of healthy eating and consistent daily exercise.) He was ever cognizant of the fact that he daily needed what only God could give—grace, forgiveness, and pardoning love.

But it was those imperfections that drove him to the heart of God for guidance, comfort, and strength and that created within him a desire to learn all that he could (until his dying day) about his Lord.

Yes, he loved my mother. Yes, he loved all of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And yes, he loved so many, many, many of you. But there was more to it than that.

Though he is far away from this earth now, the lesson I think his life taught me most as a father and that he would most want other fathers to know is this:

Love others with selfless sincerity, but let that love come from a heart that loves God most.

That’s how the Father loves us. And that’s how fathers can change the world that they have been called upon to love—even when they are far away.