A Director for the Light of the World

I was asked to prepare a eulogy for the memorial service of my buddy, Patrick. This is the transcript of that tribute.

—

There’s a series of sounds you’ll hear when you turn on the lights in a dark basketball gym.

First, the light switch makes a hollow, plastic click. Then, there’s the metallic pop of the bulbs as they wrestle awake. That’s followed by a buzz as the light grows from noticeable to inevitable. That hum never goes away. If you forget it’s there, it’s because the commotion in the room drowns it out.

Shortly after I met Patrick five years ago, Jesus walked into his gym and flipped that switch. Patrick gave Jesus his will and his future, standing right behind me out there in that atrium. There was a pop that night. I hugged him so hard, I lifted him off the ground. He smirked when he told me about his decision of faith. I didn’t realize then that this smirk was Patrick’s calling card—part of his buzz. A few months later, he smirked at me again on this stage right before I dunked him in a baptism tank.

Patrick directed lights like it was a dance. He created light shows for celebrities as they toured the country. He proved so amazing at this that the companies that made the lighting equipment would have him run their sales demos. He was an expert at making other people look good, at providing an epic limelight for someone else.

When he met Jesus, Patrick put that skill to good use. He kept pointing people back to Jesus. He had a buzz about him as he shined that light on everyone close to him. He didn’t lose that buzz when doctors first diagnosed him with formidable cancer or when they had to tell him subsequent bad news. That buzz led him to start Brothers in Arms, to shine the light on first responders whose call of duty led them to illness. That buzz surrounded conversations with other cancer patients, with doctors & nurses, and with others in pain.

Patrick knew that Jesus was the light of the world. Like nobody else on this planet, he knew how to make that light dance, how to bring out the color in it, how to make it noticeable and impressive. He redirected that brightness of heaven as well as he could for as long as he could. All of us filling this room right now all know that personally. We’ve felt that buzz, that eternal energy in his soul.

I’m thankful Patrick didn’t let that buzz get drowned out by commotion or by fatal news. I’m inspired by his hope and challenged by his example. For years to come, there will be a buzz in my ears, a vibration in my chest. When I’m tempted to let circumstances shroud my faith, I’ll remember Patrick. When I want to wallow in pity, I’ll think about his unselfishness. When life is hard, when it’s a battle, I’ll remind myself of the warrior we celebrate today.

And when I think about the gift God gave me in five short years with Patrick, I’ll smirk. That ol’ boy beat me to Jesus, but he didn’t take his light with him. He left it here for you and me to use on his behalf. So, I’ll try to buzz enough for the two of us until the day I see Patrick again.