Thursday afternoon I arrived at the home of an amazing couple to bless their newborn son. But this, for me, wasn't just any newborn, this was the grandson of one of the greatest men I have ever known--a man who was gone far too soon--a man who would never hold this precious child--a child named for him.
Just to be clear, (and to keep this from being a Hallmark movie post) this man wasn't perfect. In fact, when I first met him I would have described him as grumpy. But over the years I got to know him--as we argued (and I do mean argued) sports and theology, as he let down his tough guy demeanor and I got to know a man who was always a champion for the underdog (except in sports unless of course it was his beloved Cards), who had a fierce love and devotion to his family and who knew and practiced the importance of and precision of the use of words, my love and respect for him deepened. I learned a great deal from him, and I am proud to this day he called me "friend."
I walked through the door and within 30 seconds I had that baby in my arms--this of course is not unusual for me--I'm sort of known as "the baby stealer." Anyway, as I held him and talked to his parents about any and everything, but nothing seemingly important--in the back of my mind, just under the surface I remembered the words I spoke at the beginning of my sermon for his grandfather's funeral.
“I don’t understand why..” When ____ approached me with those words, I quickly learned that whatever it was that was going to follow wasn’t simply something confusing, but rather something about which_____was angry or highly annoyed.
We sat in their living room and talked about the usual--how much sleep they were getting (or not getting), going back to work, and of course with this family--sports. (Have I mentioned I love this family?!?!) I was having a wonderful time and yet almost but not quite completely unconsciously in the back of my mind I was asking that very question--over and over. I don't understand why. I don't understand why I get to be here holding this precious child and you never will; I don't understand why I will get to see him grow up and you won't; I don't understand why I get to see him in his mother's arms--his mother your little girl whom you both adored and of whom you were immensely proud; I don't understand why I will get to see him play with his cousins and you won't; I don't understand why I will see him hold his grandmother's hand, a hand you held for so many years and are no longer here to hold; I don't understand why I will get to see him fall in love with the Cards, see pictures of him going to his first games--games to which you won't be taking him.
Let's be clear, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I was thrilled to be there and to spend time with this young family, but just under the surface.... It was a paradox in my mind. I wanted to be there, I wanted to be holding that sweet boy, I wanted to be given the privilege of blessing him, I just wanted my friend to be there too.
As the visit came to an end, it was time to anoint this precious child--this child of God. I held him in my arms, anointed his head and had a quick but intense flashback of anointing his grandfather at the time of his death. In that moment, I understood and believed as I never have before that God has "by the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ" destroyed death.
My friend knew and believed that to his very core. I concluded my sermon at his funeral with these words,
It is no accident that ___ chose The strife is O’er. It’s an Easter hymn, a hymn of Resurrection. ___ believed strongly in the resurrection and that despite the suffering he endured the victory would be won. Death did not defeat ____; he didn’t sign with the Cubs—____ has won the World Series, and the Super Bowl, and the National Championship and is decorating his dwelling place in red and black.
As I got in my car I said another little prayer-- I prayed that this tiny precious baby would grow not only into the man God intends for him to be but will also grow into the faith of his grandfather--a faith that sustains when nothing else will. Death has been destroyed and love does win.
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