Living in the Shadow of a Great Man

I’m thankful my local grocery store has self-checkout lanes.

I was crying tonight, as I carried a bag of Tostitos toward the registers.

My friend, Kendall, died today. Technically, it was a car accident; but to be consistent with the rest of my theology and experience, it was a collision with God’s sovereignty.

I’m one of hundreds of people today thinking that knowing heaven’s plan might ease the sense of loss. God would have to hold an incredible reason for such a relationally-attractive and impactful soul to leave this earth in his mid 20’s. Kendall modeled characteristics like humility, empathy, and authenticity. He carried contagious joy that started in his rib cage then danced out through his eyes. He was growing and changing and pragmatically comfortable in the discomfort of that process. He listened like few people listen. Kendall made you think what you were saying was important to him and absorbed by him.

I call Kendall a friend—not because I knew him well, but because nothing stood in the way of friendship. My interactions with him rarely strayed beyond our Sunday dawn conversations, when he arrived to serve in our church’s high school ecosystem. You didn’t have to know him as well as many of my friends do to feel loved and appreciated by Kendall. He was that special, and he made you feel special.

The kid leaves a gaping hole not just in hearts but in a community. He left a legacy that someone three times his age would love to claim.

We are all going to die.

We are all getting only one shot at this. The vast majority of us have no idea when the game will be over. None of us really knows what the afterlife looks like or even if there is one. People of faith (like me) cling to prophetic accounts until they become fact in our hearts, but we’ve never met another human first hand who found out what happens and then came back to tell us about it.

It’s probably good that we don’t have scientific explanations and well-documented facts to tell us what happens next. That makes us focus on what we do know, where we do exist, what we can change.

Since we don’t know how many days we have left and since we know what we want to be true on our last day, it makes sense for us to live today in light of that legacy. It’s foolish to think we’ll magically get a chance with a last-minute effort to right all wrongs, to move from the frivolous toward the fulfilling, and to be credited for changing trajectories of others.

Kendall embraced this intentional lifestyle instead of the American dream. He bought into the concept of eternity and brought the weight of it into daily practice. He jumped into a lasting legacy with both feet. He walked a path so many regret not taking. He showed us how to do this life thing, even though he was given less time to do it.

Even in his death, Kendall brought us back to what it’s all about—just like he regularly did when he was still with us. Slow clap for you, man. Welcome to your reward.

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Photo used with permission from Crystal George Studios.