What Just Happened?

Today, I was part of something that I never dreamed I would be a part of, in fact, my dreams would most likely never hold something quite like this.  Dreams are usually things we wish for and I would have never wished for this, for myself, and especially not for my friends and their family.  I officiated a funeral that I wish I had never had to officiate.  I'm not sure anyone would have been happy to officiate the funeral of a 6 month old whose first symptoms of sickness started on Thanksgiving Day, who received a diagnosis a few weeks later, and passed away exactly three weeks from the date of diagnosis.

But that's what today held.  How does one walk into a room to see a precious little angel, dressed in his comfy pajamas, looking as if he is asleep within a casket that should never have been made, should never have been needed?  How does one face over two hundred people while continually glancing down to see the face of this precious angel?  How does one find hope in the midst of tragedy that is seemingly devastating?

For someone like me who speaks in public regularly, is it possible that something could be a privilege and a nightmare at once?  Anyone who knows me knows that what you see is what you get, and I know that those who consider me a friend appreciate this as one of my finer qualities.  Those who don't consider me a friend are most likely offended by it, and that's fine, they can continue to hang around with people who placate them and tell them all the things that they want to hear. 

For some reason, even knowing me as he does, my friend, Henry, asked me to officiate the funeral for his precious baby boy today.  Friends are there for each other, through thick and thin, in good times and in bad (don't worry, I'm not trying to summon my innermost Stevie Wonder with a stirring rendition of "That's What Friends Are For"), they run towards you when everyone else is running in the opposite direction.  That's the kind of friend that Henry has been to me, so how could I refuse a friend?

As I watched the events of the day unfold before my eyes, I saw hundreds of people file into the chapel of a funeral home to show their love and support for a couple whose experience was atrocious.  In spite of my own desire to numbly walk through the day, to avoid all emotions and simply get through, I knew that I could not let myself do it.  I had to be engaged, I had to be a part of it, I had to be present within every moment possible.  I needed to be there for my friend.  And that's just what I did.

What I saw was astounding.  I saw hundreds of people come together under crummy circumstances and experience love.  I saw a little boy with an infectious smile, taken away much too early, be the driving force that brought people together to hear the story of a family, a family whose world had been shattered, a family that despite their shattering circumstances, was held together by love.  I heard the story about people who had shared and experienced that love, in a place and during a time where it never would be suspected that it could exist.

I heard stories of neighbors reaching out, of doctors giving up 1, 2, and 3 of their free days to be with a family in need, of fellow workers and friends who offered themselves for anything that was needed, of nurses exhibiting the kind of love and sensitivity that was necessary for such a delicate moment.  I heard stories of pain, watched countless tears be shed, and managed to shed more than my own fair share as well.

And at the end of the day, I was still standing.  Somehow, God had given me words.  Somehow, I was able to speak.  Somehow, a broken vessel like me was able to share a little bit of God's grace with others.  Somehow, in the midst of tragedy and questions, it was still evident that God was there, that He had not left, that He did indeed care, and that we were not alone.  It was still evident that part of what He gives us is each other.

The journey has just begun for my friend and his family.  It will be long and winding, it will be dark and stormy, but I know that they are not alone.  They are surrounded by good people, and despite popular belief, they are being held by a good God.

As I walked through this day, hesitant to feel the emotions that it held, I began to see glimpses of God everywhere I looked.  Instead of destroying faith, somehow this situation had restored faith in little pockets in the places where I looked.  I certainly wish that restored faith could have come under better circumstances, but somehow tragedy brought us to a place where faith seemed to be the only thing that was left.

Today is a day that I will never forget.  That my friend allowed me to share my thoughts in the midst of his grief was a privilege that I would rather not have been afforded simply because I wish the grief had never happened.  But it did, and we can't change that now.  As I said to Henry and his family, the legacy of Connor is being passed on to others, already they have begun to raise money to support research in order that a horrible disease might be eradicated.  You can find out more about that if you follow this link: http://www.jackandabby.org/

What just happened?  I experienced something that was beautifully tragic or tragically beautiful, not sure which one.  I experienced a life cut short after six months make more of an impact than some lives lived over the course of many years.  Today and every day moving forward, I will hug my children a little longer, I will linger on that kiss with my wife, I will savor the mess if it means an extra minute with my baby girl, I will soak in the moments that are before me, not rushing past them because I never know when they might be gone.  I guess what happened is nothing short of a miracle.

(Here's a picture of the balloons that were released in honor and memory of Connor.  I like the butterfly one on the far left)

Big Faith?

As I continue to wrestle through my friend's loss of their 6 month old baby, I was struck by a comment that I saw on Facebook.  It had to do with faith being restored and it really made me think.  How do we restore our faith when it seems that we've lost it?  How do regain something that we know that we once had yet has seemed to wane?

Over the last few days, I've been drawn to Matthew 17, 18, and 19.  Jesus has many interactions in these chapters with children.  In chapter 17, Jesus heals a boy who is demon-possessed.  In chapter 18, Jesus invites a little child to stand before him and explains that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who become like little children.  In chapter 19, Jesus' disciples get a little testy when little children are brought before him.  But Jesus says to them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

I have always been struck by the parallel passage of the demon-possessed boy of Matthew 17 in Mark 9 because of the difference in what Mark records there.  When the father brings his son and Jesus begins to ask him questions, the father says, "But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."  Jesus' answer comes across a little brash as he reiterates the man's words and repeats, "'If you can'?"  He goes on to say that everything is possible for him who believes.  The father's answer, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief."

I can't even begin to recount how many times over the last few years that I have had to go back to this passage.  I've said or prayed the phrase, "I believe but help my unbelief" so many times that it's hard to count.  But Matthew's account of this story is an encouragement to me and should be to all whose faith seems insignificant and small.  Jesus says, "I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move.  Nothing will be impossible for you."

Once upon a time, I preached a sermon on this passage and I remember handing out mustard seeds to the congregation.  If you've never seen one before, you can see them in the picture here.  They are fairly small and insignificant, but elsewhere in Scripture, Jesus talks about how small they are and yet they grow to be fairly large trees (Matthew 13).

The thing is, that's all that we need, just a small amount of faith.  There are times that people might look at me and think that my faith is so large, and yet I feel that it's equivalent to the size of a mustard seed.  And Jesus says that's all that we need, because faith grows.  It might start small and insignificant, but over time, it grows and flourishes if it's fed and nurtured.

It's hard to muster up faith in the midst of trial and tragedy, but all that we need is a mustard seed's worth.  God can take that small seed and grow it into something magnificent.  We might believe and still feel overwhelmed with unbelief, but God can handle that, He can meet us there and handle those doubts, those questions, and that unbelief.

Where's your faith?  How big does it seem to you?  You don't need much, only a mustard seed's worth, and it can grow.  Mine has felt insignificant and small many times in my life, but it can always be restored, somehow, some way.

11 Years?

It's hard to believe that it's been 11 years since that fateful Tuesday morning.  The day still remains so vivid in my head and I can only imagine how much more so it feels that way for those who experienced tragic loss on that day.  Having lived about 50 minutes from NYC back in 2001, it felt so much closer to me.  I remember traveling down to New Jersey for project management training for my company just 2 days later.  As I drove over the Tappan Zee Bridge, I could see the New York skyline from afar, yet it was close enough to make out the distinct cloud that hung like a death shroud over the place where the two towers had once stood.

My mom's birthday was September 11th.  She was not particularly fond of the fact that her birthday shared the date with one of the greatest tragedies to ever befall the United States.  I will always remember her birthday with a mix of emotion as I recall joy and tragedy in the same day.

Memorable dates are fascinating.  Personally, I am a "numbers guy" so I remember all kinds of dates and numbers.  I will forever remember my phone number from my house growing up.  I even remember my phone number during my sophomore through senior years of college as it remained the same.  I remember the phone number I had after college as well.  So much useless information that seems to be taking up space.

Yet, there is so much value to remembering.  I have said it before, but it's worth repeating, if we do not remember, we are destined to forget, which generally results in our repeating of things, oftentimes mistakes.  Remembering is a valuable resource and I try to do it often.

I remember by writing.  I can express my thoughts and feelings so much better when I write them down.  I can recount my experiences in written form so that I can pass those experiences on to my children.  Some of them are funny and they make us laugh, others are painful and might better be left untold, or at the very least, seldom recounted.  But even the painful experiences and memories serve to mold me into who I am.

Our country is not the same since September 11, 2001.  To be honest, I think that many people forget until something forces them to remember.  I can't forget, part of that is due to Mom's birthday, but part of it is that it hit so close to home and yet I somehow remained unscathed by the pain that so many experienced that day.  I remember and I honor those who grieve, even 11 years later.

What is it that you need to remember?  Take a moment today to recount it and express your thanks.  Make that phone call.  Write that note.  Say that prayer.  Do whatever it is that you need to do to let someone know today that you remember.

Open Eyes

This past weekend, the community in which I live was jolted awake by the senseless murder of a high school student. Students and parents alike have been shocked, they have had their worlds upended at such an act of violence in a fairly quiet, suburban town. How could something like this happen? What caused it? How do we prevent it from happening again in the future?

The initial blow of something like this always causes fairly volatile and raw emotions to flow freely from those who have been most affected. Attempts to reconcile violence are rarely simple. We live in a fallen world, broken and twisted by sin, and the resulting aftermath of that is never easy or simple, nor is it ever comfortable to live with. Life can be difficult and sometimes causes us to wrestle with questions that have no simple or easy answers.

I grew up in a small, quiet, suburban town in Connecticut. There were a number of times throughout my childhood that our community was rocked by things that seemed so out of place. Just because a community comes across as a real-life Bedford Falls does not mean that there are not deeper secrets lurking beneath the surface. When those secrets come out, which they will inevitably do, they are met with resistance and disbelief, especially for those who don’t approach life with open eyes.

I work in a church. I am a pastor. My family is in church every Sunday that we are healthy. Our presence in church does not excuse us from the reality of life. We are not immune from bad things simply because we believe in God. I also realize that it is not the responsibility of my children’s Sunday school teachers or school teachers to teach them certain things in life. I am a parent, whether I like it or not, that comes with certain responsibilities. I did not have children so that someone else could raise my children. I did not have children to arrange like ornaments on a tree, they are not simply for show.

There are things in my life that I have done that no one would have expected from me. I was not proud of them, but I do not dwell on them. Through Christ, I am forgiven. In many ways, my parents were pretty oblivious to those things. I grew up with other kids who were involved in things that their parents could probably never have imagined. If the truth was discovered further down the road, it most likely came as a shock.

Although my children are very young, the relationships that I establish with them now will determine the relationships that I have with them in the future. If I am not involved with who they spend time with, what they look at, what they read, and what they listen to now, how much will I be involved with any of that stuff when it can have a dramatic influence on them?

I learned a long time ago that one of the worst phrases that I could ever utter is “I would never…” I have seen the repercussions of eating those words after they have exited my mouth. I have seen others do the same thing. I will not say that I will never be a parent who does or does not do something. I am a flawed and broken individual who is in need of grace, that’s what Christ is and does for me, brings me that grace.

I know that I want my children to feel comfortable being honest with me. I want them to know that there are consequences to certain actions, but I don’t want those consequences to prevent them from telling the truth. It has been my experience that the consequences of truthfulness are much less severe than the consequences of dishonesty, especially when that dishonesty is discovered. We can only hide from the truth for so long before it finally makes itself known.

I want to be a parent with open eyes. I want to see my children through the eyes of love that God has given me, but I do not want that love to blind me to the fact that they are as fallen and broken as me. They need a savior as much as I do. They are as capable of making mistakes and poor choices as I am. Grace is allowing them the freedom to let that happen and still loving them afterwards. It is also the realization that there are consequences to mistakes and choices, sometimes irreversible.

I hope and pray that lessons can be learned from the tragedy that my community has experienced. I pray that parents might look at their children with open eyes of love, seeing them as “perfect” and yet willingly admitting that they have their flaws. I have always joked that my wife and I did enough things when we were young to keep us pretty well-informed about the potential things our own children might get into in the future. Even with that to be considered, we still remain fallible. May God continue to form and shape us to be who we need to be in Him. May He give us the grace that we need and the wisdom and discernment to know how best to handle the situations that life will inevitably throw at us.