Michael D. Murphy

Michael (Mike) Murphy was born in San Antonio, Texas on February 4, 1960. He died peacefully, surrounded by his family, on September 11, 2022 at the age of 62 after a valiant struggle against pancreatic cancer. He married Elizabeth O'Steen in 1984 and gave her the most wonderful adventure filled 38 years a woman could ask for. He was the very proud Pops to Patrick, Andrew (Jasmine), Peter, and John Murphy, and the adoring Grandpa of Alba, Lumen, Havylah, and Salome Murphy. They adored him too.
Mike is survived by his wife Elizabeth, sons, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters, mother Gaylene Compton, and sister Julie (Mike) Trautman, both of Comfort, Texas. There are many more who call him father, brother and son. Mike's world was wide and full of amazing people.
Visitation will be held at Brookfield Christian Reformed Church, 14135 W. Burleigh Rd., Brookfield, WI. 53005 (located at near the intersection of Burleigh and Lilly Rd.) on Monday, September 19 from 4:00-7:00 p.m., and again on Tuesday, September 21 from 3:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. followed by the service at 6:30 p.m.
In lieu of flowers please make a contribution to the National Christian Foundation. In the memo line of the check please add - The Story Fund #1511045. This is the giving fund of Mike and Elizabeth Murphy. We will distribute the funds among many organizations that were important to Mike.
Checks can be sent to –
NCF WI
18650 W. Corporate Dr. Suite 105
Brookfield, WI 53045
(262) 796-9910
The theme of Mike's life was stories. He had many to tell about working in the Texas oil fields as a teenager and his college years at Texas A&M University, his world travels on ministry trips, and his diverse roles as the chaplain for the Milwaukee Arena Football Team and the Town of Waukesha Police and Fire Departments. He had three careers, working for 16 years in performance contracting at Johnson Controls, 13 years as a Pastor at Elmbrook Church in Brookfield, Wisconsin (where he was often called "the pastor of friendly"), concluding with nine years of deeply meaningful work for the Kaztex Foundation. He found great joy in discovering faith-based organizations in the city of Milwaukee and pouring into them with the foundation's resources and his unique gift for connecting needs, ministries, and people. He embraced life as an adventure (often from the seat of a bicycle)-with people as the most important part of it. He approached every person with compassion and loved them with the love of Christ through the unique lens of a Texas Aggie with a business background, a colorful sense of humor, and the heart of a pastor. He made everyone he met feel important and cared for, and wanted to help others re-write their stories the way God had so generously re-written his.
He used to say that Elizabeth had the gift of hospitality and he had the gift of invitation because he was always inviting people (often large numbers at the last minute) to dinner. Mike loved food and food loved him – he was an absolute pleasure to cook for. It was his welcoming nature that surrounded him with a beautifully diverse friend group who felt and were treated like family. The backyard patio was his favorite place on earth, especially when surrounded by freshly mown grass. His boys, the women in their worlds, and his grand girls were his favorite company. He even embraced a little lipstick and a few Barbies just to play with all those little girls.
He was asked once, "How do you know Jesus loves you?" His answer was simple: "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so." He was fond of saying "if you believe Jesus loves you, it changes everything." That is how he lived his life, as a man who knew Jesus loved him. His last words spoken in a clear, calm voice were, "Wow, wow, wow. It's all true! All of it. All the love, incredible." We believe he saw what awaited him in heaven, a love like no other. He was peaceful and relaxed until he took his last breath. There are no words to describe how deeply loved he was and how deeply missed he will be, but his story continues in eternity and so does ours until we see him again.