The life of a man of God is not measured by the number of his days but by the impact of his faith on those around him. Father Gaston Hubis understood this truth well. For more than four decades, he preached the Gospel, proclaiming the love of Jesus Christ and pointing to the Scriptures as the only compass for a righteous life.
He did not seek wealth or earthly recognition; his only ambition was to serve God faithfully. And on that fateful day, June 26, 1992, before a congregation that listened intently to his words, God called him home.
What transpired that day was nothing short of extraordinary. As he stood at the altar, where he had so often spoken of faith, love, and salvation, his body began to weaken. His voice, once firm and full of authority, started to waver. But before he fell, before he took his last breath, two words escaped his lips—words that would forever echo in the hearts of those who witnessed the scene: “Thank you, Lord.”
What kind of faith does it take to face death not with fear, not with despair, but with gratitude? This is the faith that does not tremble before the end, does not falter in the face of the unknown. The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians that death was swallowed up in victory.
“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O grave, is your sting?” For the children of God, death is not an end but a glorious beginning. Father Gaston knew this. That is why, in his final moment, he did not ask for more time. He did not cry out for help. He simply gave thanks.
And now, I ask you—if this were your last day, what would come from your lips? Would you be at peace with God? Could you face eternity without fear? Father Gaston’s faith was not built in a day; it was forged in the fire of prayer, in the reading of the Bible, in daily surrender to God. That faith sustained him until the very end, and that same faith can be yours today. But the question remains: are you ready to live it?
Those who were present that day were left speechless. Many wept; others fell to their knees. They had just witnessed a man depart for eternity in the most unexpected yet powerful way. But listen—God makes no mistakes.
Nothing happens by chance. What seemed to be a tragedy became an eternal testimony. That church was marked by something supernatural. People who had been lukewarm in their faith were awakened. Hardened hearts were softened. Because when God acts, no one can remain indifferent.
It reminds me of Stephen, the first martyr of the early church. While he was being stoned, his eyes were fixed on heaven. He saw Jesus standing, waiting for him. He did not resist. He did not murmur. He simply surrendered his spirit. For those who walk with God, this world is not their home.
Understand this: Father Gaston’s death was not an accident. God was in control all along. Nothing happens without His permission. And if He allowed this moment to take place before that congregation, it was because there was a greater purpose. The Lord wanted to show something. He wanted to remind His church that life is fleeting, but eternity is real. He wanted to wake up those who had become complacent, to remind them that the time of grace is still open—but it will not last forever.
And now I ask you: Have you lived your faith as Father Gaston did? Or have you merely drifted along, lacking passion, lacking surrender, lacking commitment? Are you ready to meet God today, if this were your last day? These questions are not for tomorrow. They are for now. Time is running out, and eternity stands before us.
Father Gaston’s death teaches us something powerful: A man’s life is like mist—it appears for a moment and then vanishes. We do not know the day or the hour. But we do know this: whoever believes in Jesus Christ, whoever surrenders their life to Him, will never truly experience the end. For as the Lord Himself said, “The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live.” This promise never fails.
And so, Father Gaston departed—not with fear, not with regret, but with a grateful heart. Because he knew. He knew he was going home to his eternal dwelling. He knew that his journey in this world had come to an end, but his true life was only just beginning.
Now, the question remains: Are you ready for that day? Can you say, “Thank you, Lord,” because your life is in His hands?
A true preacher of the Gospel is not defined by eloquence or theological depth but by faithfulness to the message of the cross. Father Gaston Hubis understood this. On the day God called him home, he was not speaking of success, wealth, or recognition. No. He was preaching about the one truth that has the power to transform lives. He spoke about Jesus Christ—about the love of God, about the grace that saves, heals, and restores. Before his congregation, he proclaimed the essence of the Gospel. And no one in that temple imagined that those would be his final words.
Imagine the scene: He stands before the faithful, Bible open, and declares, “Many still think that Jesus came to judge, but they do not understand that He came to save.” Those words struck like thunder. How many today live in fear of God, thinking He is ready to condemn them, when in truth, He extends His hands full of grace? How many see Christianity as a burden, an impossible load to bear, when in reality, Jesus came to set us free?
This reminds me of the words of Christ Himself: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” And the very next verse says, “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.”
God’s plan was never destruction. Never punishment. His plan has always been redemption. Always love. And there, at that altar, Father Gaston spoke of that truth. “Look at the cross,” he said, “not as a symbol of suffering, but as the greatest proof of God’s love for you.”
And that is the great difference. Some see Jesus merely as a teacher, a prophet, an example. But He is so much more. He is the Savior. He is the Son of the Living God. He is the one who bore our sins, who died in our place, and who rose again to give us eternal life.
And now, if Jesus did all this for us, why do so many still live as if He were merely a figure of the past? Why do so many ignore the greatest offer of salvation ever given to humanity?
Father Gaston’s final sermon was not just a message of love. It was a warning. God is calling. Jesus is calling. And this call is for now. For no one knows the day or the hour. But one thing we do know: The time of grace is still open. There is still hope. There is still forgiveness. But you must respond.
What happened at that altar was not an accident. It was a divine appointment. And now I ask you: Will you let this message pass you by? Or will you allow it to transform your life?
