With the Ink of His Life

I lost a friend a few days ago.  Yesterday, I had the privilege of standing by his family, a family that has been a part of my life for a long time.  They are as dear to me as anybody on the planet.  A small but close-knit group gathered to remember his presence among us and the true gift that he was to each of us.  It was my privilege to share some thoughts about his life.

He is one of the kindest, most tender-hearted human beings I have ever known.  His physical presence was humble and unassuming.  His physical abilities were limited.  

As I thought about his 58 years, from the first day I met him, he always reminded me of a 747 jet. They fly at 30,000 feet or better.  Moving at a high rate of speed, high above all the hustle and bustle of life, they nonetheless move along smoothly and quietly.  Human existence with all of its messes and struggles carries on beneath you....out of sight.  John's simple and unadulterated joy had a way of taking you "above it all" and reacquainting you with the simple joys of life...of faith, too.  He didn't do it intentionally; that's just who he was.  It's how he was wired.  

As I reminisced and scratched out words that were an understatement of the work of art that was his life, I couldn't help but think about the world and in particular the culture we live in.  It glamorizes the sheik, the powerful, and the accomplished.  John didn't have a resume.  Didn't have much to put on one...by our standards.  He didn't go to school.  He met few if any "movers and shakers."  His social circle was small. 

Late in the night and early into the morning, my mind kept reflecting back to an episode in John chapter nine. Jesus' disciples, having drunk from the well of tradition-history on the subject of evil and suffering, misframed a question and put it before Jesus.  I can imagine Jesus sighing, looking in the direction of the blind man, and waving aside their shoddy assumptions with his crisp reply: "He was born so that the mighty works of God could be displayed through him."

In our vernacular, he says, "God is at work here if you have eyes to see it!"

I couldn't help but think of the ways in which we are programmed by our culture to look at people - size them up.  We are conditioned to look at the wrapping.  We don't look deeper.  We don't see persons.  We don't ask the big questions.  John was a teacher.  He taught what was central to Jesus and His kingdom.

As I wrote, reflected, and wept, I was led to Matthew chapter eighteen.  Irony of ironies, the disciples ask who is the greatest in the kingdom.  I imagine Jesus sighing...again.  He looks at some children playing, eyes one and says, "Come over here....sit right here. Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus didn't say, "Give it some thought...toss it around...do it on Mondays."  No.  All or nothing.  My friend was a walking demonstration of this truth every day of his life.

All of this sends a few questions through my heart:

• Do we think about what we see in people and why we see it?
• What should we be looking for in people? 
• What is God screaming at me every day that I am too drunk with all the wrong thoughts to recognize?  What if we sobered up and saw rightly for a change?  
• In what ways do I look "whole" by cultural standards but severely lacking by heaven's standards?  It's a hard question.  It's a necessary question.  
• Am I a grownup...really?  How much does vanity rule my life?  How much time do I spend thinking about...me?  
• And, what if I could bring to a day of life what John brought to a day in his life?  How would I be different? How would my relationships be transformed?  What could God do with me that He can't do because I'm too drunk on all the wrong things to see and hear as I should?

More questions come to mind, but I will stop with these. Preparing for his memorial took me on a beautiful journey into the past, bringing into the foreground of my mind the names and faces of people just like him who had imprinted on my life in quiet but profound ways. The pen God gave them was simple looking at a glance but God wrote with it in breathtaking ways.

Refreshing winds continue to blow through my heart as I ponder John's life.  In the germ of his simple world was the truth of what life and faith are really about. I pray that the ink God used in his life to testify to what really matters can bleed over into my pen, too.  My life story has been better for it.  I pray it continues.

Thank you, brother.

Father, for friends and teachers like John I give you thanks.  They help me and I pray each of us to live life in the trenches with a 30,000 foot perspective.  Amen.

Randy Daugherty

Stephenville, Texas