Mike, You Will Be Missed

By Jim Nieman 

My boss at Christian Standard for the last six years, editor Mike Mack, loved God, the church, his family, his friends, small group fellowship, and mountain biking. 

Late last week, Mike died toward the tail-end of a weeklong trip to Colorado to take part in that last activity. 

I texted him on Thursday morning: “Happy Birthday, Mike! Hope you’re having a great time in Colorado!” 

“Thanks,” he replied moments later. “5th day of riding different trails today.” 

He died later that day. 

It was the first weeklong vacation Mike had taken during the entire time we’d worked together. 

Mike tried to do everything with excellence. He carried out his duties as if God might ask for an immediate accounting. 

He worked tirelessly and conscientiously and with joy. He sometimes grew frustrated, for sure, but he thought the best of others and defended them, even when they were the source of his frustrations. 

(I wonder how many times he needed to defend me.) 

Recently, Mike underwent an extended period of struggle. It started when he broke his left kneecap while mountain biking in October 2021. His recovery was ongoing, up until his death. It involved three major surgeries.  

Mike resumed biking earlier this year, but he admitted that this Colorado trip would be a “test.” He was concerned his knee wouldn’t hold up. He was concerned he hadn’t been able to train enough. As always, he was concerned about falling behind with magazine work while he was away.  

I encouraged him to go. 

He traveled to Colorado with a group of cycling friends from in and around Louisville, Ky. I’m told they rode for a while on Thursday but were taking a break when Mike told them he wasn’t feeling well. An ambulance was called, but Mike died of a blood clot before making it to the hospital. 

A PARTNERSHIP THAT WORKED

Mike and I made a good team. We shared some common strengths as editors, but our skill sets were largely complementary. 

Mike was outgoing, a small-group Bible study expert, an entrepreneur, a theologian, a grammarian, didn’t mind tackling nettlesome computer problems, and enjoyed new challenges.  

I enjoy working silently at my keyboard and prefer repetition to newness. 

Somehow, we figured it out. 

And we generally spoke at some length by phone about once per day. 

Mike and I worked remotely out of our homes for six years—me in Cincinnati and Mike in Louisville.  

For a few years we got together for lunch most months to look over the proof of our next print issue and to discuss various work-related projects and life. 

And then COVID-19 hit, and we met only once, I think, in a two-year span. 

We were taking baby steps to resume our lunches. The plan was to meet every two months. 

I miss our lunches. 

‘C’MON MAN!’

Mike’s daily ritual was to awake early and study God’s Word. Sometimes those sessions went longer than he anticipated.  

In 2018, Mike challenged church leaders—and all Christians, really—to humbly seek to follow God’s agenda in their quiet time with the Lord. In the column—titled “Five-Minute Daily Devotions for Leaders: C’mon Man!”—he wrote:  

Do you rush through your daily quiet time to get to the “more important” things on your to-do list . . . or would you rather hang out with God a little longer, enjoying more intimate time with him? Do you schedule a 5- or 15-minute meeting with God and do the bare minimum because you feel you should . . . or do you open your heart to God and desire to spend as much time as needed to enter into real fellowship with him? 

If Mike didn’t check-in with me via text, email, or a phone call until midmorning or later, I just assumed he had spent extra time with the Lord. 

AS UNTO THE LORD

Mike wasn’t perfect, of course. But he always tried to do his best, as unto the Lord. I think he was a perfectionist who realized perfection was impossible to mortal men and women.  

But that didn’t stop him from reading through an article or skimming through a 100-page magazine proof one more time even if he’d already done four passes and it was pushing 10 o’clock at night. It didn’t stop him from changing a comma to a semi-colon in the online version of an article that was already in print. It didn’t prevent him from contacting a writer by email and phone if a sentence in the 17th paragraph didn’t quite make sense. No, Mike seldom failed to go that extra mile when something—however small—could be made better. 

If something needed to be done, he often would volunteer himself. 

In many cases, Mike’s name appeared above feature articles in our print magazine because one or more folks who had been asked to write the article had turned us down or had failed to follow through. Mike would just step in like Isaiah (“Here am I. Send me!”). 

I’m not a social media user, but Mike was. In fact, I couldn’t keep track of his various social media outlets. After learning of his death, I saw that he posted this on Facebook in July. I think it nicely sums up his outlook and his life: 

“Even when you can’t rejoice in your circumstances, you can (and should) rejoice in your God. ‘The joy of the Lord is your strength’ (Nehemiah 8:10).” 

Mike, you will be missed. 

Jim Nieman has served as managing editor of Christian Standard for 25 years.