Nobody was saying a word. They just all had these sad, lost looks on their faces. The silence reflected the status of their hearts. Their friend Austin had taken his own life just the day before.
As a youth leader at our church, I knew I had to break the painful silence in the room so I did something kind of weird. I asked them a question.
"What was the dumbest thing that Austin ever did?"
Their frowns instantly turned into smiles.
"Austin had this four-wheeler, and we piled as many guys as we could on it and took off through the woods. Austin crashed us and went flying everywhere and the four-wheeler went into the lake."
The laughter of Austin's friends was much needed and very therapeutic. They began speaking other remembrances. And laughing!
That was ten years ago. That very same scene played out this past Saturday strangely enough.
It was my niece's funeral this time. After the service had ended, I was talking with my sister-in-law, when I turned and saw an entire row of young ladies in the back. All of them were looking sad. Some were crying.
It was the very same scenario as the one I had encountered ten years ago after Austin's suicide. Should I go over to them? I don't even know them. I began walking.
After introducing myself I asked them that same question. The same question I had asked Austin's friends ten years ago.
"What was the dumbest thing that my niece ever did?"
The frowns again turned into smiles. Then one girl said this:
"Well, she had this Jeep and we were trying to get some place and accidentally turned the wrong way down a one-way street. We all screamed "It's a one-way street! But your niece said, 'Screw it' Let's go!'"
Suicide is not an easy thing to deal with. There are too many unanswered questions floating around. And so much pain in our hearts. We wonder, could we have done more? Did we say 'I love you' enough? But look what happened in both of these cases.
Smiles replaced every sad face at the mere recollection of a happy, memorable moment. A time when they all had fun. A time when their loved one was alive and with them.
It is a demonstration that the sad times WILL fade. And the happy memories will eventually overpower the bad for our missing friends and family members. Those memories are the "fuel" that fills our emotional tanks - our "love tanks" if you will. It is a dangerous thing, to run out of love. That's why happy memories are so important. They are our heart's emergency backup fuel.
Since Austin's death I have made a point of telling all of the people who I love that I love them. It's a simple thing. But if someone's emotional tank is getting low, that last little bit of fuel might be just enough love to get them to the next filling station.
"Love one another, for love comes from God." - 1 John 4:7
But all of life is meaningless without Jesus.
The pastor at our niece's funeral mentioned 2 Timothy 4:7.
"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." - 2 Timothy 4:7
The race we are all running is life. The finish line is heaven. The only way to get to the finish line is by repenting of our sins and placing our faith and hope in Jesus. What is the point of being in the race if we have no chance to win? Jesus is the key to victory.
Austin trusted in Jesus. So did my niece. Have you?
This is from a song we sang in church yesterday. It seemed a fitting reminder as we end this story.
"When I fall down you pick me up. When I am dry you fill my cup. You are my all in all."
Telling our earthly "all-in-alls" that we love them is a good thing. But telling JESUS the same thing is critical if we ever want to see those loved ones again.
"Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint." - Isaiah 40:31
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