This past weekend, we traveled to North Dakota to attend the funeral of a sweet, seven-year-old boy named Treyson. A tragic four-wheeler accident took his life far too soon, leaving his family, friends, and community grieving an unimaginable loss. As we mourned with our dear friends, we also had the privilege of hearing the testimony of Treyson’s life—a life lived with a depth of love and selflessness that left an indelible mark on those who knew him.
While Treyson excelled in sports, loved Legos, and found joy in Star Wars, these were not the most defining aspects of his life. Instead, the most consistent testimony shared was his remarkable love for Jesus and his uncharacteristically selfless nature. Story after story painted a picture of a boy whose heart was inclined toward others. He would return his own gifts just so he could choose something a friend might like better. He shared his candy and ice cream freely. He thoughtfully brought his father coffee in the morning or even prepared breakfast for him. He embodied the words of Philippians 2:3-4: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests but also to the interests of others.”
In this world, we often place high value on talent, achievements, and success—things that, while meaningful, ultimately fade with death. The more worldly potential someone has, the more bitter death seems. But godly qualities, the fruit of the Spirit, are eternal. They transcend the grave. In Treyson’s life, we saw these eternal qualities in full display, and because of this, his passing, while deeply sorrowful, carried an overwhelming confidence: he is now in the arms of his Savior, experiencing the goodness of Psalm 23 in its fullest reality.
Reflecting on all of this, I was reminded of a worship song that describes Jesus as One who “lived to die, rejected and alone.” Jesus fulfilled this so that Treyson could instead “live to die, accepted and beloved.” And while Treyson’s earthly life was brief, it was a life of profound impact. His obituary stated that he was preceded in death by his grandfather, James Marcusen—a man I also had the privilege of knowing. Like Treyson, I have full confidence that James is in the presence of Jesus, eternally worshiping the King.
In our grief, I am left wondering: Could we follow Treyson as he followed Christ? Could we, too, live lives of such humility and selflessness that when our time comes, we could say we were preceded in death by Treyson? Could we learn from a seven-year-old what it truly means to die to ourselves so that we may live for Christ? In his continuous selflessness, God saw fit to call Treyson home, releasing him from the bonds of this world. May God be so pleased with me as He was with Treyson.
At my own funeral, I can only hope my family might say the same—that I was preceded in death by Treyson Ficek, and that I followed him as he followed Christ.
Treyson’s life was short, but his testimony is eternal. May we all be changed by his example.