EP15: You're Not Buried, You're Planted

🎙️ Episode 15: You’re Not Buried, You’re Planted

One year ago, I lived the darkest day of my life — the day Jeremy passed away. It felt like the weight of grief was burying me alive. Every breath was heavy, every thought overwhelming, every step impossible.

But here’s the truth I’ve learned over this past year: what feels like a burial in your life… may actually be a planting. 🌱

In this episode, I share the raw story of how God took my worst moment and began turning it into my testimony. We’ll walk through the pain, the tears, the correction, the brotherhood, and the hope that only comes from knowing Jesus and His resurrection power.

If you’re in your darkest moment right now — if you feel crushed, abandoned, or hopeless — this episode is for you. Because you’re not buried. You’re planted. And what feels like the end might just be the soil of your greatest growth.

Listen now and be reminded: your worst day can become your best day in the hands of God.

Transcript

Ryan: 0:00

Welcome back to the Grateful Dad Podcast. I'm Ryan, your host, and I'm glad to have you here. First of all, for all y' all that have been listening as I release the episodes, I am going to formally apologize that it has been almost four weeks since I posted an episode. And yeah, my bad life kinda has been moving quickly and. And given the subject matter of this episode and what happened in the past month might give a little insight into it as well. So, yeah, I love you guys. I appreciate you for hanging out with me and listening to the episodes, and I hope this one speaks to you too. Today's episode is personal, maybe the most personal one I've ever recorded. Because this week. Well, not this week, a couple weeks ago marks one year since the darkest, most agonizing day of my life. And that's when Jeremy passed away. But here we are a year later. That day shattered me. It left me hollow, questioning, and broken. I wondered how I could possibly go on. And I wondered how in the world any good could ever come from that kind of pain. But here's the suffering is not unique to me, and it's not unique to you. Suffering is a universal truth of this world. Nobody escapes it. Not one person in scripture lived a life free of suffering. Job lost everything, his wealth, his health, his family. Gone in a breath. Joseph was betrayed by his own brothers, thrown in a pit, sold into slavery and forgotten in a prison cell. Sarah suffered decades of barrenness, living with the ache of unanswered prayers. Nehemiah wept over the ruins of his city, carrying the burden of a broken people. Peter knew the shame of denying Jesus in his darkest hour. Thomas wrestled with doubt so heavy he couldn't believe until he touched the scars. Mary, the mother of Jesus, stood at the foot of the cross, watching her son tortured and crucified. And even Jesus himself, fully God, yet fully man, suffered. He wept. He bled. He cried out, my God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Suffering is part of the story, guys, but it's never the end of the story. Because where are they now? Job was restored. Double Joseph rose to the palace from the prison. Sarah cradled the child of Promise. Nehemiah rebuilt the wall. Peter preached Pentecost. Thomas went from doubt to declaring, my Lord and my God. Mary saw her risen Savior, and Jesus Christ turned the agony of the cross into the victory of the empty tomb. The point is here, guys. Suffering will touch every single one of us. But in God's hands, suffering can become the soil of resurrection. That's what I've seen in my life this past year. My worst day, the most painful day of my life. But it also became the beginning of the best days of my life. And I need you to understand something. This episode is not going to sound like the first few episodes of this podcast. Back then, I was still in the middle of the storm. The grief was fresh. The questions were raw. Now, a year later, I could look back with new eyes, with a new lens, with gratitude, with faith, with perspective I didn't have then. And what I've learned is God doesn't just heal your pain, he transforms it. He takes the tears you thought were wasted and turns them into seeds of life. So let's walk this journey together, from crucifixion to resurrection, from the worst day to the best day, from Friday to Sunday. Let's get into it. Sam and dad News you can use so here's the news you need to hear today, dad. Jesus knows your pain. He knows your suffering. He knows your grief. And I don't mean that in some polished, churchy way. I mean it in the rawest, most physical, most agonizing way you could ever imagine. Because when Jesus went to the cross, he didn't just die. He suffered. The Romans used what was called a flegrum, heavy leather cords laced with lead balls and jagged bone fragments. Every strike didn't just bruise, it dug in. It ripped skin, shredded muscle, tore flesh away over and over again until his back looked like raw meat, until his body was so disfigured he was hardly recognizable as a man. Then came the humiliation. Soldiers grabbed his beard and ripped it from his face, tearing away flesh with it. They shoved a crown of long thorns deep into his scalp, piercing bone, nerves firing in searing pain, blood pouring down his face while men laughed and spat it on him. And then came the nails, iron spikes driven through his wrists and his feet. Not neat little punctures, spikes crushing nerves, igniting lightning bolts of pain through his entire body. And that rough wooden cross, his back, already torn open, scraped up and down it every time he tried to breathe. Because crucifixion wasn't about bleeding to death. It was about suffocating. To breathe, he had to push up on those nailed feet, scraping his raw back against splinters just to fill his lungs with a little bit of air. Then he'd collapse again, chest crushed, wrists tearing, gasping. Every single breath was a decision to suffer again. If you've ever had a panic attack and felt like you couldn't breathe, imagine that. Except your survival literally depended on the agony of forcing your Body against the nails and wood to keep going. And here's what makes it even harder to comprehend. Jesus was the only perfect man who ever lived. He didn't deserve it. He never sinned. He never betrayed. He never failed. He could have called down a legion of angels, fire from heaven could have consumed the soldiers in an instant. He could have stopped it all, but he didn't. He chose to stay. He chose to feel the lash, the thorns, the nails, the suffocation, the mocking, the loneliness. He even chose to feel what it likes to be forsaken by crying out, my God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Why? So that when you suffer, you know you're not alone. When you lose your brother, your wife, your child, he knows that grief. When you're in the middle of a custody battle, fighting for your kids, crushed by rejection, he knows that anguish. When you're sitting jobless, homeless, wondering how to keep going, he knows that despair. When you feel hopeless, faithless, abandoned, he knows that cry. He chose to suffer the very worst so that in your worst moment, you. You would never walk alone. That's the news today. You don't serve a God who is distant from pain. You serve a savior who entered into it. Every lash, every nail, every gasp. So that no matter what you're carrying today, you can know he's carrying it with you. So when you hear the story of the crucifixion, don't miss this. Jesus didn't just suffer for you. He suffered with you. And here's the part that wrecks me every time. The cross wasn't the end of the story. If the cross was the end, the pain would win. Grief would win. Death would win. But three days later, Jesus walked out of that tomb. And what that means for you, dad, is suffering isn't the end either. Which brings me to the first of a few powerful shifts I've learned this past year, lessons that only suffering could teach me. And I believe they change how you walk through your own darkest days. Shift number one. Pain doesn't have the last word. I'll never forget the day Jeremy passed. It was like the air was sucked out of the world. The silence wasn't peaceful. It was crushing. I remember feeling like the room was closing in, like the weight in my chest was too heavy to breathe under. My mind was spinning and numb all at the same time. Questions, pounding, tears. I couldn't stop. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I didn't know what day it was. At one point, I caught myself in the Mirror and thought, man, grief makes you look like a wet dog that got left out in the rain. And I'll be honest, even in the middle of that, I cracked half a smile at myself. Because sometimes all you can do is laugh at how broken you look just to keep from drowning in how broken you feel. And maybe you've been there. Maybe you know what it feels like to collapse to the floor and sob until you can't breathe. Maybe you've had nights where the pillow is soaked because the tears just wouldn't stop. Or nights where you didn't cry at all because you went numb, empty, hollowed out. Maybe you've had panic seize you, gasping for breath, chest tightening as if your own body was betraying you. Maybe you've cried out in anger at God. Why? Why me? Why now? Why them? That's what pain does. It screams, lies at you. Lies like this is permanent. You'll never recover. You'll never laugh again. You'll never feel joy again. God has forsaken you. You are alone. That's where I was the day Jeremy passed. That's what it felt like in those first days after. But here's what I've come to learn in the years since. Pain can scream, but it doesn't get the last word. Because on Friday, pain screamed at the cross. The whip tore Jesus back to shreds. The thorns pierced his skull, the nails crushed his nerves. Every breath was a panic, forcing his body against nails in wood just to gasp for air. And from that cross he cried the same words we cry in our darkest nights. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? If you've ever felt abandoned by God, Jesus knows the feeling. But Friday wasn't the end. Three days later, Sunday came. And Sunday shouted louder than Friday ever could. Sunday said, this isn't the end. Death doesn't win. Pain doesn't win. Hopelessness doesn't. When? So, dad, if you're in your Friday moment right now, if you're in the panic, the tears, the numbness, the anger, the suffocating grief, I want you to hear this. It's not the end. The same God who turned the darkest Friday in history into resurrection, Sunday is the same God who can take your worst day and turn it into the beginning of your best pain doesn't have the last word. Jesus does. And his word is always life. Shift two Tears become testimony. I can't count how many tears I've cried over the past year. Some of them were heavy, ugly tears, the kind where you're face down Broken. And you wonder if you'll ever stop. Tears of depression, tears of loss. Tears that felt like they came from the bottom of my soul. But here's what's interesting. Over time, my tears changed. I still cry, but now it's at different times. Sometimes a worship song comes on and takes me right back to the brokenness I felt in those first days after Jeremy's passing. But instead of despair, I cry tears of gratitude. Tears that say, God, thank you for carrying me through what I thought would kill me. Other times, I'll hear someone else's story, someone just beginning their own road of grief or loss. And the tears come again. Because those aren't tears of depression anymore. They're tears of empathy. Because I feel their pain. I know some of the choices they're going to have to make about God and about faith. And it breaks me, but it also reminds me how faithful God has been to me. That's the shift. Your tears will turn from tears of depression to tears of deliverance. The Bible says in Psalm 35, weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. And I've lived that. I've seen God take tears I thought were wasted and turn them into seeds of life for me, for my family, and for the brothers he's put in my path. So, dad, if you're in the season of heavy tears right now, hear me. It won't always be like this. The same God who held you in your darkest cry will bring you to a place where your tears aren't just about pain anymore. They'll be about his presence. They'll be tears of deliverance, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. And one day, you'll look back like I do now and realize not one single tear was wasted. Shift number three, correction isn't rejection. One Sunday afternoon, I sat Carter down because I realized something. I had been correcting him more than I had been encouraging him. I was frustrated with his listening, his behavior, and some of his choices. And if I wasn't careful, all he was going to hear from me was, you're wrong. You. You messed up. Do better. So I called him into the room one day, looked him in the eyes, and told him this. Buddy, I love the exact boy that you are. I wouldn't change one thing about you. I know I've been correcting you a lot. But that's not because I don't love you. It's because I love you too much to let you stay the same. My correction isn't rejection. It's me helping you grow. Into everything God has called you to be. And in that moment, something shifted between us. He still gets corrected, but now he understands my heart behind it. And here's what hit me. That's exactly how God fathers us. This past year, in the middle of grief, I've also been pressed in ways I didn't want to be. I wrestled with time, distractions pulling me in a hundred directions. TikTok projects, even good things. And I'd hear God whisper, ryan, render your time back to me. Stop wasting minutes that could be holy. I battled temptation, staring down sins I thought I'd buried. And in those moments, God wasn't shaming me. He was reminding me, you are my son. I've called you higher than this. I felt stretched in marriage, Shannon walking through her own path and me wanting to control or fix it. God kept pressing me. It's not your job to play savior. Love her. Be patient. Trust my timing, even in leadership, carrying my business, my family, and now this brotherhood of dads. Some days, I felt crushed by the weight of it all. But God kept reminding me, you don't carry this alone. I do. Stay faithful. At first, it felt like rejection. It felt like God was piling on when I was already at my lowest. But looking back, I can see it. None of that was punishment. It was parenting. It was God shaping me into the man he's called me to be.

Hebrews 12: 17:37

6 says, the Lord disciplines the one he loves. He chastens everyone he accepts as his son. And here's the part that actually makes me smile now. I used to think correction meant I was failing. Now I see it as proof that God hasn't given up on me. Correction is God's way of saying, I love you too much to leave you where you are. So, dad, if you're in that season of correction, don't mistake it for rejection. It may just be the most powerful sign of his devotion. Shift number four. Brotherhood multiplies in the fire. When Jeremy passed, it felt like I lost more than a best friend. I lost my brother in arms, the guy who kept me sharp, the guy who made me laugh when life got heavy, the guy who I could compete with, confide in, and count on. And honestly, I thought that kind of brotherhood died with him. And the truth is, leading up to that time, my circle of brotherhood had already been shrinking. I didn't have a ton of close friends anymore, and I only had a handful of best friends. But losing Jeremy took away one of the biggest ones. But then something strange started happening. As I leaned deeper into God. I began to notice him doing something around me. Some friends drifted away, even a couple I thought would be around forever. That hurt. But then others started showing up. Some were men I hadn't spoken to in years. Others were brand new faces. But they all had something in common. They were men of faith. God's people. And that's when I realized you can tell God is chasing you down because he surrounds you with his people. I didn't go searching for these guys. God sent them one by one. From TikTok, from this podcast from random encounters that turned into divine appointments. And before I knew it, what I thought was going to be a story of losing brotherhood became a story of brotherhood multiplying. Jeremy sharpened me for many years, and when he was gone, I thought I'd go dull. But instead, God brought me new blades into my life. Brothers from the dad Mission Circle, TikTok, fatherhood, frontline, dadvochial. All of them standing shoulder to shoulder, crying together, praying together. And here's what I learned. Brotherhood doesn't just show up in the good times. It shows up in the fire. Because it's in the fire, you learn you can't fight battles alone.

Proverbs 27: 20:17

17 says, as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. And the truth is, this past year, I've been sharpened by more men than I can count. Some new, some I thought were gone, but all of them were sent by God to remind me I'm not alone. So, Deb, if you're walking through the fire right now, don't isolate. Don't let the enemy convince you you're on your own. Look around. Because sometimes the clearest sign that God is chasing you down is when he starts filling your life with his people. And he did it for me. He'll do it for you, too. Foreign. Loss doesn't bury you. It plants you. The day Jeremy passed, it felt like I was buried alive. The weight of grief was like dirt being shoveled on top of me. Every phone call, every silence, every night alone with my thoughts felt like another handful of earth pressing me down deeper. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see a way forward. It felt final. It felt like a grave. And maybe that's exactly where you are right now. Buried under the weight of loss. Buried under betrayal. Buried under guilt and shame. Buried under bills, stress, depression, addiction. Buried so deep, you can't even remember what the light looks like. But here's what God has shown me in the last year. I wasn't buried. I was planted. And there is a huge difference. When something is buried, it's dead and gone. But when something is planted, it may be hidden for a season, but it's destined to rise. That's exactly what happened at the Cross on Friday. They thought they buried Jesus. The whip, the thorns, the nails, the spear. His body torn apart, lifeless, wrapped and sealed in a the tomb. To everyone watching, it looked final. It looked like defeat. It looked like the story was over. But what they didn't know is that Jesus wasn't buried. He was planted. And on Sunday morning, what looked like a grave became a garden. The stone was rolled away, the tomb was empty. And the very thing that the world thought was the end became the beginning of salvation for all of us. And dad, if you're in your Friday moment right now, don't mistake it for burial. You're not being buried. You're being planted. Jeremy's death was the darkest day of my life. But out of that soil, God has grown things I never dreamed of. A deeper faith, a sharper sense of time and legacy. A brotherhood of men chasing after Jesus, and a mission to pour life into dads who feel hopeless. I thought grief was going to destroy me. Instead, God used it to plant me deeper than I'd ever been before. And he'll do the same for you. The deeper the planting, the greater the harvest. So don't confuse the dark soil of today for the final chapter. The same God who rolled away the stone from Jesus tomb is the same God who can roll away the weight crushing you. You're not buried. You're planted. And resurrection is coming. So let's bring this all together. We've talked about how pain doesn't have the last word. How tears can turn into testimony. How correction isn't rejection, it's devotion. How brotherhood multiplies in the fire. And how loss doesn't bury you, it plants you. Each one of these shifts has been written into my life the past year. They aren't just principles. They're scars. They're tears. They're lessons hammered into me through the darkest season of my life. But standing here, one year later, I can tell you this. When you put them all together, they point to something bigger. Because this isn't just about my story. This is about the story God wants to write in your life. And that brings me to the heart of today's episode. The Grateful dad wisdom. It's the thread that ties this all together. It's the truth that takes crucifixion moments and turns them into resurrection testimonies. It's the truth that your worst day can actually be the start to your best days. The gift of your worst day. One year ago, I lived the worst day of my life. The day Jeremy passed. The day everything inside me broke. And if you're listening right now, maybe you're standing in your own worst day. Maybe you're walking through the darkest valley you've ever known. Maybe it feels like the weight is too much. The silence is too loud. The pain is too sharp. If that's you, I want to breathe this into you right now. This is not the end. It may feel like the end. It may look like the end, but in the hands of God, it's not the end. It's the beginning of something new. The cross looked final. It looked like death won. But the resurrection proved that Friday wasn't the end of the story. It was the setup for Sunday. And that's what this moment is in your life. A setup. This pain, this loss, this heartbreak is not wasted. It's not random. It's not meaningless. It's soil. And when you place it in God's hands, what looks like a burial becomes a planting. And what grows out of this, A testimony so powerful that one day, maybe a year from now, maybe five years from now, you'll be the one standing where I am, shouting from the rooftops about how this exact moment, this exact heartbreak, became the most powerful part of your story. The very thing that threatened to destroy you will be the thing that God uses to draw people to his kingdom. Your crucifixion moment will become your resurrection testimony. So don't give up. Don't throw in the towel. Don't mistake today's tears for a permanent ending. Because knowing Jesus, knowing his story, knowing how faithful our God is, you can stand firm on this. Everything's going to be okay. Not easy, not painless, but okay. Because our God has good plans for you. Plans to prosper you, plans to give you hope and a future,

as Jeremiah 29: 26:59

11 says. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.

And Romans 8: 27:12

28 reminds us, we know that all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. So, dad, take this with you. Wrap it around your heart like a gift. Know this. God is with you. He loves you. He is faithful, and he will not waste your pain. Sunday is coming, and when it does, you'll rise with it. You know this episode's been a bit heavy. But let me tell you, even in the darkest seasons, God has given me moments to smile. Like the time Carter tried to comfort me when I was having a rough day by patting my back and saying, don't worry, dad, you can have the last popsicle. I'm telling you, sometimes God uses your kids to remind you that the joy is still there, even in the middle of the tears. And maybe you've had those moments too. A song, a memory, a laugh you didn't expect. That's God's way of whispering, I'm still here. Light still breaks through. And that's what I want us to carry into prayer right now. Gratitude for those little smiles and hope for the big deliverance. Father, I thank you for every man listening right now. I thank you that no matter how heavy their pain, no matter how dark their valley, you are with them. Lord, I pray for the dead who feels buried. Show him he's been planted. I pray for the man drowning in tears. Turn them into seeds of testimony. I pray for the one who feels corrected. Remind him it's your devotion, not your rejection. And I pray for every weary soul. Surround them with brothers who will stand with them in the fire. Most of all, Lord, I thank you for Jesus, for the cross, for the resurrection, for proving once and for all that our worst day can become our best day in your hands. We trust you with our pain. We trust you with our story. And we trust you with our future. In Jesus, mighty name. Amen. All right, I know what you're thinking. You're sitting there saying, surely he's not going to do it this time. He's not going to throw in a dad joke after an episode this heavy. But let me ask you something. Have we met? Of course I'm going to do it. Because even in the darkest seasons, you need a reason to smile. And sometimes that smile comes in the form of the corniest eye roll worthy joke you've ever heard. So here it is. Why was the math book so sad? Because it had too many problems. Oh, I'm here all week. Tip your waitresses. But don't worry. That joke might feel like a Friday joke, but Sunday's coming. Alright, dad, if this episode spoke to you, here's your mission. First, don't keep it to yourself. Share it with another brother who needs hope. Because you never know, this might be the word that keeps him going. Second, hit the subscribe button so you don't miss the next episode. I promise not to go a month again this time. And while you're at it. Drop a rating or a review. It helps more dads find this movement. And third most importantly, go hug your kids, tell them you love them, and thank God for another day of breath in your lungs. Because life is short, legacy is eternal, and revival, it starts at home. This has been the Grateful dad podcast. Thanks for listening. I love you all. See you next time. And as always, stay grateful. Sa.