Hey friend,
There are moments in life when words feel both necessary and impossible.
Writing has become one of the ways I process life, faith, grief, gratitude, and the things God is teaching me along the way. But this one is different. This one is heavier. This one is personal.
My dad was more than my dad.
He was one of my greatest coaches, teachers, examples, encouragers, and friends.
He was (and still is) my hero.
And while there are hundreds (probably thousands) of lessons I could share from his life, I wanted to use this week’s Weekly Pursuit to honor him by sharing five lessons he lived and left with me.
1. Kill them with kindness
My dad believed kindness was strength.
Not weakness. Not passivity. Not avoidance.
Strength.
He taught me that you don’t have to match people’s negativity. You don’t have to respond to every criticism with defensiveness. You don’t have to let someone else’s attitude determine your character.
You can choose kindness.
You can be firm and gracious. Honest and loving. Clear and compassionate.
That was my dad.
He had a way of making people feel seen, valued, and encouraged. And I think one of the reasons so many people loved him was because he treated people like people.
Not obstacles.
Not interruptions.
People.
And that’s a lesson I don’t want to forget.
2. Attack each day with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind
Jim Harbaugh made the phrase famous, but my dad lived it in his own way.
He brought energy into the room.
He brought joy into ordinary moments.
He had a way of reminding us that life was meant to be lived, not just endured.
Even through cancer, treatments, setbacks, and difficult days, there was still a fight in him. There was still a spark. There was still a sense that today mattered.
That challenges me.
Because it’s easy to drift through days. It’s easy to let discouragement drain our passion. It’s easy to wait for perfect circumstances before we choose joy.
But my dad reminded me that enthusiasm is not just a personality trait.
Sometimes, it’s a decision.
A decision to show up.
A decision to give your best.
A decision to be present.
A decision to live today like it matters.
Because it does.
3. Control the controllables
This was one of those lessons my dad repeated often.
You can’t control everything.
You can’t control every outcome.
You can’t control every opinion.
You can’t control every circumstance.
You can’t control every diagnosis.
You can’t control every hard thing life brings.
But you can control your attitude.
You can control your effort.
You can control your faithfulness.
You can control how you treat people.
You can control whether you keep showing up.
That lesson hits differently now.
Because there was so much about these last 22 months we couldn’t control. But I watched my dad continue to control what he could.
His love.
His faith.
His fight.
His family.
His attitude.
His witness.
And that will stay with me forever.
4. The team. The team. The team.
Bo Schembechler said it. My dad loved it.
But for him, it was more than a football quote.
It was how he saw life.
My dad believed in team. He believed in family. He believed in showing up for people. He believed life was better when it wasn’t lived alone.
He didn’t just teach us to care about ourselves. He taught us to care about the people beside us.
That’s part of what made him such a great dad. He wasn’t just building individuals. He was building a family.
And in these last 22 months, I saw “the team” show up in ways I’ll never forget.
Family. Friends. Church community. Doctors. Nurses. People praying. People texting. People visiting. People carrying us when we were tired.
Grief has a way of reminding you that we were never meant to do life alone.
We need the team.
And I’m so thankful for the one God gave us.
5. Jesus first. Family second. Everything else after.
This may be the lesson that matters most.My dad’s priorities were clear.
Jesus first.
Family second.
Everything else after.
Not because work didn’t matter. Not because sports didn’t matter. Not because goals, responsibilities, and opportunities didn’t matter.
But because none of those things were meant to be first.
My dad loved Jesus. He loved his family.
And he taught us, by the way he lived, that when those two things are in the right place, everything else finds its proper place too.
That doesn’t mean life is easy.
It doesn’t mean grief doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t mean cancer makes sense.
But it does mean this: we grieve with hope.
Because my dad didn’t just teach us about Jesus.
He trusted Jesus.
And because of Jesus, death does not get the final word.
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
Romans 12:2 (NIV)
Weekly Resources
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The Path Less Traveled Podcast
Hosted by Craig Heatherly
My dad got the chance to have a conversation with his friend, Craig. In this conversation you will hear so much of the heart that my dad had for people, for family, and for his faith. I'd encourage you to give it a listen.
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Faith, Sports, Leadership Podcast
With Ryan and Drew Lutz
This was a really fun conversation that Drew and I got to have with my dad as a part of our podcast. If you have time, give it a listen.
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In Loving Memory of Spencer Lutz
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I don’t have a polished ending this week.
Just gratitude.
Gratitude for my dad.
Gratitude for his life.
Gratitude for his faith.
Gratitude for the lessons he taught me.
Gratitude for the hope we have in Jesus.
And maybe that’s the encouragement this week.
Live the lessons you want to leave.
Be kind.
Show up with joy.
Control what you can.
Love your team.
Keep Jesus first.
My dad did.
And I’m better because of it.
Praying,
Ryan
