Brady didn’t have a pride problem. When he started feeling anxiety last spring (towards the end of his sophomore year of high school), he immediately asked his parents if he could work with a counselor to learn how to manage his anxious thoughts. We met right away, and Brady applied every solution I suggested for him.

He didn’t need to continue seeing me into the first semester of his junior year because he was thriving. But our bond had already formed, we stayed in touch, and I enjoyed seeing him perform in his school play in late October of ’16. In early December, I received a text from his dad. Brady was in the hospital and diagnosed with a brain tumor. Last week – only six months later – I received another text from his dad. Brady had gone to meet the Lord.

When Brady first received his scary diagnosis, it was no surprise to me that he wanted to fight this disease with the help of counseling, and he readily committed to meeting weekly. It was the best and worst six months of my counseling practice to date. His parents and I believe that the Lord introduced Brady and me in advance of his brief illness so that we’d already have our relationship in place when he received the news.

Brady’s six months of cancer were very difficult, but he committed to having a daily purpose of joy. Whenever his circumstances would threaten his ability to feel and express joy, Brady would reach out to me for help. In revealing his greatest weaknesses, he demonstrated his amazing strength.

The final week of his life, I was privileged to meet with Brady in his home three sacred times. Brady was struggling to speak during that first visit, but he was able to respond to Scriptures I read and explained to him. And he indicated which ones he wanted his family to be declaring over him daily. At this point, his anxiety was based on worry for his parents having to endure the loss of their son. But I literally saw the power of God’s Word comfort and encourage Brady before my eyes. I even saw him grow significantly closer to the Lord in one hour’s time. That day, as I folded myself over into his wheelchair to hug him good bye, I told him I loved him. I’ll never forget hearing his impaired voice respond with “I love you too.” Every night that week, countless times I woke from sleep, praying for him, his parents, and sister, while holding tightly to my “Brady’s Bunch” prayer-band that Brady had given to me.

Three days later I received word that Brady was asking to see me. When I arrived this time, the weakness kept his eyes shut, but he willed his voice to tell me his anxiety was gone, the Lord had given him peace, and he was ready to go to heaven. I witnessed the most beautiful sanctification on Brady’s deathbed in that moment. After celebrating with him and reading his favorite Bible passages over him again, it was time to leave. I leaned over into that hospital bed and told him again that I loved him. In his muffled voice, he responded “I love you so much.” I stepped out the front door and let my tears carry me home. Brady was so filled with the Lord’s presence, and I ached to be with him.

By my final visit two days later, Brady could not talk at all, but he could nod and make a few sounds. As I approached his side, he indicated that he knew I was there and was excited by my arrival. One last time, I read his favorite verses over him and he nodded at a few that were most special to him. I promised him I’d take care of his family (to which he nodded) and draped myself over his chest to hug and love him one last time.

Everyone in “Brady’s Bunch” shares the sorrow and grief of a future life here without Brady in it. But we also have in common knowing a teenage boy who used his last days to seek the Lord and His Word, and to care for and connect with his loved ones. I have no doubt that Brady’s life of humility, and death in the Lord, will bring people to salvation in Christ in the coming days! His dying was cradled in an eternal perspective; thus, he displayed the truth that “though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”