Funeral

I sat in a funeral for a young man this morning, a boy really. His daughter won’t remember him, she’s too young; she’ll look at pictures of ‘daddy,’ but’ll never know his voice, or what it’s like to be walked down the isle to her husband by him.

18 years old is far to young to die, but it happens all the time.

Whether the pressures were too much or the showing of love not enough, we’ll never know. But a gun, in his mind, seemed to solve the problems.

Sadly, for him it’s too late. His mother weeps and his father pushes all to not waste their life. The pastor said something about now being the time to think about eternity.

And though while I agree, we should think about eternity, that’s not what we should be worried about.

It’d be far better to think about Jesus and what he’s done, and not so simplistically as to think we only think about him for what we want. No, we think about him for and in all things.

Not just cause we get heaven through him, but because we get God in what he’s accomplished. Not just because we avoid hell, but more so because he gives us himself.

You see, if we only love him for what he gets us we don’t love him at all.

The Story of a Friend

A friend of mine (a friend I’d consider close) told me a story the other day. The story is true, and it’s beautiful. It’s been running through my head since he told me it. So, I’ll do my best to re-tell it here:

She’s a mother, not married and therefore cast off by the church. Because her sin is so visible: it runs and jumps and plays and laughs and sings (but to call a child a sin is a travesty, she’s no sin, she’s a joy, but the church see the scarlet 'A' not the beauty of a little life).

Sure the act was wrong, but a thousand times over the heart of the woman had repented and wept for the forgiveness, which is so freely hers in Jesus. But to see that forgiveness played out in tangible ways was something she didn’t know (aside from family).

He was a band man. Playing, singing, rocking.

How they met I can’t tell you. How they fell in love, I’d assume it was gradual and both hearts were hesitant. But nonetheless love came.

Then it came, a time for a ring. But not just one ring, no there are two rings in this story. One for both of this man’s loves. One for his future wife and one for his future daughter.

I can imagine the scene now, “My little love?”

“Yes.” Comes the small girl’s voice.

The man kneels to one knee, “Will you be my daughter? And my dear, will you be my wife?”

Forgiven. Not just forgiven, but loved. Not just loved, but loved to the point of sacrifice. Not just sacrificed for but taken wholly into the loving embrace of a man.

            

This is a perfectly clear picture of Jesus and how he redeems us broken.