About a Funeral

This weekend, many were watching as Charlie Kirk’s memorial went out to all the corners of the world. In Arizona, tens of thousands of people showed up in person to honor a man whose name is on everyone’s lips. But Chad and I went to a very different kind of funeral.

We met out at a cemetery on the edge of our small town. It was sunny, hot, and windy, and the once green grass was beginning to brown as it does at the end of a Texas summer. Seven of us were in attendance: Chad and me, the funeral director, and four family members. We were there to honor the life of a man few knew well–a man whose name had never been at the top of a newpaper page, who had never been interviewed for a podcast or given a podium. He was a man who had struggles and victories, as we all do. And in the end, seven people spent an afternoon thinking about his life, thinking about difficult things and things to be grateful for. He was not a well-known man, even in his own small corner of the world. But he was an image-bearer of Christ. And he was honored.

As I sat under the funeral home’s green tent in a plastic folding chair, looking at the small but beautiful flower arrangement at this man’s grave, I thought about how important people are. Honestly, this tiny funeral reminded me how much opportunity that we have to make an impact in the world. I’m not talking about making the kind of impact that packs stadiums. I’m thinking of the ways that our presence in the world can affect just one or two people. How we can add love and kindness and meaning to the extremely small world around us just by waking up every day and getting out of bed.

Many of us live small lives. We live quiet, unassuming lives in small places, where no one is looking for the next great Christian talent or the future CEO of a Christian organization. No one is beating down our doors asking for our opinions, our beauty routines, or even our recipes. We are living lives of obscurity, and sometimes maybe we feel like those kinds of lives, those quiet ones, those “nothing special” lives don’t mean as much in the eyes of the world or in the economy of God. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

We’re all influencing someone. It may be a little child. It may be a postal worker who stops by several days a week. It may be a fellow Sunday school member or a spouse. We may be influencing the young man who bags our groceries at the store or the customer service rep that we speak to every once in awhile. But we all have influence. Every life matters.

All the more reason that we should seek to follow Christ. To obey Him, to make Him supreme in our day-to-day, in our worldview, and in the attitude of our heart. He has given us this day for a purpose. He has numbered our days for specific reasons, and those reasons aren’t so that we won’t matter. Every single life has value: the small lives, the short lives, the lives lived only inside a mother’s womb, the lives that are riddled with addiction and struggle, the lives that are loud, the lives that wreak havoc, the lives that hurt people, the lives that stay home, the lives that pack stadiums. What will we do with the life God has given us?

The little family of four stood to make remarks. They laughed and told stories. They agreed that this was a sweet man, even though he had problems. His cousin’s eyes filled with tears as she said with conviction: “His life mattered.” We all nodded in agreement, and seven people stood there as witnesses. His life, both ordinary and complicated, was worth celebrating. He was made and loved by God.

I wish I could always remember as clearly as I did in that moment that everyone in this world is made in God’s image. In this age of public personas and instant celebrities, have we begun to lose our understanding of how precious a human life is? Do we really know, in the deepest part of us, the worth of every small, obscure life? Or the value of that ordinary person with a different viewpoint that makes us uncomfortable?

As this man’s humble funeral drew to a close, we all embraced like old friends. It was special, being there together, shaded from the summer sun’s glare by that little green tent, singing old songs out across that big old cemetery. We honored a man’s life. We celebrated his worth. And we remembered the value of all people. We each have a God-given opportunity to be a part of our small corner of the world. What will we do with it? I hope as I go forward into another day of living, I will be able to recognize the image-bearers all around me, whether they stand on stages or sit in nursing homes, whether they run corporations or play in the church nursery, whether they believe the things I do or don’t. Everyone is made in God’s image, and every life matters.