Untitled Sermon

Pap Knestrick

Genesis 3:19 “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.””

Ecclesiastes 3:1–4 “For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance;”

Right at the beginning we are taught exactly what

I would like to thank everyone for being here today as we remember, celebrate, honor and say our final goodbyes to Ken Knestrick. But before he fades from our sight and becomes the stories we tell to the next generations, the generations that Pap himself helped to create, let us commemorate his life together, finding strength in unity and family.

It is a great privilege to stand here and give my grandfather’s eulogy. Though no amount of words, no matter how carefully crafted, will ever truly be enough to describe what this man meant to all of us. This honor is both bitter and sweet — much like Pap himself.

People did not just meet pap, they experienced him. He was either your cup of tea, or he wasn't. Because He was not a man easily defined. He wasn’t the type to fit neatly into anyone’s expectations nor did he polish his thoughts or beliefs for the comfort of others. He was a man of contrasts — strong yet loving, stubborn yet fiercely loyal, tough on the outside but thoughtful and generous in ways that could surprise you.

It’s no lie to say that Pap was rough around the edges. He had a prickly personality that contained many layers. He had strong opinions and never hesitated to share them — whether you asked or not. Before a visit with him, you had to prepare yourself for two things: at some point your likely going to be offended, often unintentionally — because his unfiltered thoughts and words could come across more harsh than he intended. You also needed to be prepared to hear the same old stories you heard so many times before. Pap had a Love of story telling and reminiscing about the good old days. If you were brave enough to play pap in a game, be prepared because he loved to win, so much so that some of us occasionally questioned just how “fair” the competition really was. With ever-changing rules and bending them to his advantage, he was often the victor.

But it’s also no lie to say that Pap had a big heart and loved kids, you could just see this rough and tough man melt as he held a baby or played with a small child. His generous Spirit also shone through his gruff exterior. He was always willing to help others. In fact, many of us here today were helped by Pap in one way or another —our lives are proof of his generosity and willingness to help us succeed .

But For as prickly or thrifty, because we all know how much pap loved to save money, as he could be, that is not how we will remember him. He will not be remembered as a perfect man — but as a deeply loved and truly blessed man, whether he admitted or not the hand of God worked in and through his life, proof of which is standing all around us.

We knew him as a husband, a father, a father-in-law, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, and a friend. A man of humble beginnings, Pap never had a silver spoon. As a kid, he worked on a farm. From what I understand, he was raised by his grandfather and step father, this to me explains much about him, lacking that tender womanly touch. Pap was a man of men, going from farm field right into the workforce. He became a laborer, and shortly after joined Local #3 Iron Workers Union — a place where he found pride and identity in the hard, demanding work he did.

But all that work wasn’t enough for Pap. He wanted more and He was always looking for the next opportunity. He bought land and began farming. But it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows either, pap also experienced lose and grief, tragically laying two kids to rest and becoming a widow after grandma passed away unexpectantly, he out lived so many around him.

Pap was quite a character — an ironworker, a farmer, a gun shop owner, a motorcycle salvage operator. He was A gun totting, leather-wearing, Harley-riding biker who lived life loudly and unapologetically. He rode his motorcycle all around the country, even into his seventies. Everyone knows, that You could hear him coming from his rock-and-roll music long before you ever saw the man, a warning signal to help prepare you,

He was not an easy man. But he was a strong man. And through that strength, he taught us hard lessons about this world and the people in it. He taught us the value of hard work, teaching by example that if you wanted something, you worked for it.

Pap wasn’t perfect. None of us are. But he built a life through grit and determination. He built a family. He built stories. And most importantly, he built a legacy of love — even if that love sometimes came wrapped in blunt words and rough edges.

The rumble of his Harley may be quiet now. The rock music may have faded away But his memory will remain, the stories will remain. The lessons he taught us will remain. and the impact that he made will remain long into the future.

And as long as we tell those stories — to our children and to their children’s children — Ken Knestrick will never truly fade away.

Ecclesiastes 3:20 “All go to one place, all are from the dust, and all turn to dust again.”

Ecclesiastes 5:15 “As they came from their mother’s womb, so they shall go again, naked as they came; they shall take nothing for their toil that they may carry away with their hands.”

Ecclesiastes 7:1–2 “A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death, than the day of birth. It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of everyone, and the living will lay it to heart.”

Ecclesiastes 9:5–6 “The living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no more reward, and even the memory of them is lost. Their love and their hate and their envy have already perished; never again will they have any share in all that happens under the sun.”

2 Samuel 7:12 “When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom.”

Psalm 86:5 “For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call on you.”

Psalm 18:6 “In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.”

Heavenly Father,

We joyfully thank you for the life of Ken Knestrick. And as we mourn, We give thanks to you for this special man, knowing that all things are in your hands, knowing that pap himself was crafted, shaped, and loved by you. Even though he might not have known it or admitted it, he was a precious child of yours. Lord we bear our hearts and plead to you, knowing that pap was a little misguided and hardheaded. That you Lord are merciful and gracious to those who don’t deserve it. We pray that you may be merciful and gracious to Ken as he leaves our world and begins a journey that we all will take, that you may find and comfort him. Lord we pray that your loving arms wrap around all his family and friends, that you may comfort and guide us as we mourn our lose. We remember that you are close to the broken hearted

Today we gather to remember and honor Ken Knestrick — a husband, a father, a father-in-law, a great-grandfather, and a friend. But more than the titles he carried, Ken was a presence. You didn’t just meet Ken — you experienced him.

You usually heard him before you saw him. Whether it was the roar of his Harley pulling in or the unmistakable sound of loud rock music announcing his soon arrival, Pap made sure you knew he was there. Gun carrying, Leather-wearing, rough around the edges, and never one to soften his opinions, he lived life unapologetically and on his own terms.

Ken was a proud Local #3 ironworker — a hard, demanding trade that suited him well. He was also a hardworking farmer and a shrewd businessman who owned multiple gun and motorcycle shops. He understood grit. He understood work. He built things with his hands and with his determination. If something needed done, you did it — no excuses.

Visiting Pap required preparation. You knew two things were guaranteed: at some point, he was going to offend you — probably unintentionally, maybe intentionally — by blurting out exactly what he thought. And you were definitely going to hear the same stories you’d heard a dozen times before. But those stories were part of him. They were chapters of his life he carried proudly, and in telling them again and again, he was keeping his memories alive and inviting us into them.

He loved to win — especially at games. In fact, he loved winning so much that some of us occasionally questioned just how “fair” the competition was. But that competitive fire was part of his spirit. He didn’t do anything halfway.

Ken wasn’t an easy man. He could be tough. He could be stubborn. He could be hard to deal with. But through that toughness, he taught us some of the hardest and most valuable lessons about this world and the people in it — about , about standing your ground, about working hard for what you want. He passed down a work ethic that will live on in his family for generations.

He wasn’t perfect. None of us are. But he was real. He was strong. He was memorable. And most importantly, he was loved — deeply and fiercely — by so many.

Behind the rough exterior was a man who showed up for his family, who built a life through sweat and determination, and who left a legacy not just of stories and noise and laughter, but of strength.

The rumble may be quiet now. The music may have faded. But the lessons, the stories, and the love remain.

And that is how we will remember Ken Knestrick.