Within the first 10 seconds of the funeral, I knew I was in trouble. When the worship team that had once been my once-a-week staple started singing, the tears started to flow. Made it through that then we were warned to hold on, strap on our seat belts and prepare for quite a ride.
It was not your typical memorial service and that is what I expected. What I didn't expect was how my emotions took over and refused to let up. I saw people I hadn't seen in years and wanted to stay for the reception afterwards but we needed to get Keaton and get to baseball. It was Reds against Parents night and popa was going to be playing. It was tough to switch from funeral mode to baseball mode so I enjoyed watching my boys play ball and put off thinking about the Big Picture for the day.
In the last few days, I have had a chance to absorb what I have been feeling. I realized that the tears were tears of joy for what had been. It was a wonderful time in my life and I had much vested in that church experience. When you get the warm fuzzies, you usually only see the good stuff and tend to neglect what was not so great. I realized that since that experience, I have protected myself in a way I didn't realize until a few days ago. Even being a part of starting a new church and being wildly successful, in the eyes of church plants - I held back. I never wanted to experience that pain again. It has been said that only christians shoot their own armies and that is so very true. That being said, I have made my share of mistakes and the more days I have behind me, the clearer the plank in my own eye becomes.
When I first walked into the curch that afternoon, I couldn't helpe but think about the Chapman's and how within a few days would find themselves in a sanctuary such as this. I thought about all the people who would help them say goodbye and I thought about their boy. I was so encouraged to read that at one point 2000 people stood and applauded as his brother said, "I haven't always been a good brother," one of the Chapman boys said. "Just like my dad helped Maria, I hope I help my brother. … (God) healed Maria in a way we don't like, but he's going to heal (my brother) in a way we're going to like."
So at the end of the day, all we have is Christ. It is about the two of us. Our everyday life together. Warm fuzzies be dammed - it is personal, it is constant and it is more real than I could ever have imagined. Even with all the fall out from that church experience, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Another notch in the Belt of Life.
Live
Learn
Move On
Come Back
Or Not...
You and me. Life is good. Keep Walking...
