Driving to Heaven

Dear Sam, I hope you can grow up to be like Uncle Steve.
Love, Mom

Steve Beacham traveled in four modes of transportation during the final year of his journey on earth. First it was in a hostel van crammed with Hillcrest students in Nigeria heading for a soccer match, a Bible class, a fishing trip, or a cliff-jumping adventure.

His second mode of transportation was an airplane to the United States in April 2004 for his daughter’s college graduation. While there, he discovered the colon cancer which had metastasized into the liver. Awaiting him now was a different mode of transportation: a roller coaster of horrendous emotional and physical proportions. Fueling up with chemotherapy, he and his wife, Beaj, traveled from the frightening depths of a rare liver surgery to the soaring heights of remission. Learning patience and perseverance, they shook the shallow and went deep with Jesus through suffering. But it wasn’t till March 17 that Steve got the ride of his LIFE: We think it was a chariot! Steve drove to Heaven, literally. En route to a doctor’s appointment, a sudden natural event took him home in an instant.

Three days earlier Steve had written in his prayer journal: "Lord, thanks for the reminder that we are really foreigners here - this is your planet and we are just caretakers for a short time! Help me keep that perspective and to remember where my REAL home is!!"

A week after his death, on the eve of his daughter’s wedding, a memorial took place. It seemed impossible that such a combination of events could unfold for one family – an agonizing adieu and a blissful beginning; two ceremonies side-by-side to mark monumental life stages.

Earlier in March Steve wrote, "OH LORD!! Take hold of my hands and bring me back from death to LIFE!! You know I want to be healed, Lord, and I beg you to do that. But also complete or at least continue the refining process you have begun!! Then use me as you see fit to bring ultimate GLORY to YOU!!"

Glory indeed. Five hundred friends, family, former students and colleagues arrived from across North America to say goodbye to this awesome man, and witness the awesome glory of God reflected from his life. The memorial lasted four hours and continued late into the night for many who gathered at other venues.

Steve traveled in four modes of transportation: a van crammed with young people into whom he sacrificially poured his life, a plane that carried him cross-culturally to serve where Jesus led him, a rollercoaster of suffering where his faith and that of his family was severely tested, and if you will permit the imaginative faith, a chariot!

Steve died in full momentum. He didn’t brake, downshift, or pull over. He didn’t detour, miss a turn, or take a pit stop. He died at the wheel, roaring full throttle towards Jesus. The rest of us couldn’t keep up, but as one of his former students said, “It was just like Coaché to beat the team there!”