Joel

January 31, 2020

Silently he creeps, moving imperceptibly from shadow to shadow till he gets into position. Sniper of the spirit, he moves unseen and unsuspected, patiently waiting to ambush the soul.  His name is grief. He lies motionless, seemingly for eternity, gazing with steely eyes looking for the right moment, before slowly squeezing the trigger that sends his deadly projectile with pinpoint accuracy exploding into the heart of his unsuspecting victim.

How many times I’ve officiated at funerals, telling the mourners how grief can catch them by surprise, I couldn’t say. A song on the radio, the aroma of a flower or something on the stove, and the hard-won calm is instantly shattered by waves of anguish that suddenly burst upon the unwary like a tsunami. Having witnessed it time and again, I know this, but experiencing it is altogether different than describing it. Writing to the wife of my dear friend Joel about my latest trip to Cuba was in my mind simply the courteous thing to do, honoring his memory and letting her know his work continues. Re-reading a couple of year-old emails from him took me by surprise, familiar phrases jarring my senses with renewed ferocity. 

If there is any real explanation for how friendships develop, I’m not aware of it; but reading Joel’s reflections from last January on Christmas and the holiday season, I am struck by how much a kindred soul he was to me. He thought deeply and counter-culturally, at times mirroring and intensifying my own observations, and at other times challenging my presuppositions with his unique perspective. 

This grief rolled over me this morning, and has dogged my steps all day. My heart is heavy, but I wouldn’t trade its heaviness for anything, for it is evidence of a friendship that enriched and challenged me to be more than I thought I could be. I cannot fill his shoes; his talents and skills were different than mine, but I can grasp the baton he held out as he finished his leg of the relay, and run with all my might toward the goal. I am grateful to have known him, to have had the privilege of calling him my friend, of hearing his heart and witnessing his enthusiasm for missions. My life is richer and deeper for it, my sorrow today a small price to pay for such a treasure.