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| Kyle, Joyce, Jeff and Chris Stapleton, at a Cowboy game, Fall 2010. |
If it’s all true, as people the world over believe it is, then I know personally the new starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. He’s in a team meeting right now with Tom Landry, Bob Hayes and Dandy Don Meredith, all heavenly hall of famers, plotting strategy to beat the Philadelphia Eagles for the right to go to the Super Bowl.
“Ladies and gentlemen … at quarterback … Chris Stapleton.” The capacity crowd of more than 100,000 is on its feet. What a rush.
If it’s true, as our faith says it is, then he did not lose his life late last Sunday evening. Instead, he very much found it, in a way he never before could have even imagined, with more freedom than he ever could have dreamed. It’s like he was stuck in rush-hour traffic and suddenly found an empty freeway – with no speed limit.
“There'll be no sadness, all will be gladness,” as the song goes, “when we shall join that happy band.” What a peace.
If it’s true, then he is not in his final resting place, as is so often said. Instead, he’s more alive now than he ever was, in even more constant motion, creating even more laughter than he ever did before. It’s like being 11 years old and getting a season pass for every amusement park in the world. C’mon, let’s go. What are we going to do next? Boy, this is fun.
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." This statement – long the subject of faith and ridicule (depending on the perspective) -- is something he knows to be a proven fact, not fiction. What a revelation.
If it’s true, then something major happened in that moment when his life flashed before his eyes. He was not only shown the pictures from his past, from his wide-eyed days as a budding basketball star to the proud moments of loving his little girl, but he was also shown the pages from future scrapbooks. Mom, Dad, his brother, and everyone else who chose wisely … they all turned out to be okay, despite whatever ups and downs this world threw at them. What a relief. And so it was okay to go.
If it’s true, his life had a purpose, as too did his passing. If it’s true, then we’re not just spiraling out of control into oblivion. And if’s it’s true, then this life can be enjoyed, not just because every last moment needs to count, but because there is the assurance that this isn’t all there is. Heaven exists.
It’s true.
Can you believe he’d be a preacher now? Not a holy-roller, but just as someone who spoke the truth: People, why all the worrying? Why all the sadness? You can have such a peace … about any circumstance, including physical death … if only you will believe in something bigger than yourselves.
Love life. Love one another. Believe.
As I write this, I’ve just come from the visitation for Chris Stapleton, the oldest son of a couple my wife and I have known for a very long time. When I left after two hours, there was still a line out the door. In a world of conflict, mayhem and anonymous blogging, tonight was an act of people coming together in love. It was harmony. It was also a testament to the kind of family the Stapletons are.
Four days ago, when a bunch of us were in their family kitchen, doing our best to show love and support when it was needed most, Kathy Brink Zambon summed it up best: “It’s like we keep looking for the right words to say, and there’s nothing there.” I mean, seriously, moralisms are nice, but it’s still awful to lose the companionship of someone so close, no matter what.
But Kathy’s daughter Brittany, who was one of Chris’ best friends in the whole world, offered up a thought that comes only from personal experience. Having lost her dad thirteen years ago, she knows more about loss and grief than she would ever care to know. “You’ll get signs every so often that tell you everything is okay,” she said. Like out of nowhere, she’ll look to the sky and see a hawk, a comfort to her because her dad had once been the basketball coach for the Fairborn Skyhawks.
There was also the image at her dad’s funeral, when the sun came shining through the clouds on an otherwise cloudy day.
There are no coincidences in life.
I’ve been thinking about that the last few days. Those moments usually happen to me through music. For instance, when my friend Jim Anderson lost his dad several years ago, we sat in his front living room talking about the reunion he was having with his mother, who had died several years before. I then left his house and got in my car, where an Eddie Money song was on the radio: “I’ve got two tickets to paradise. Pack your bags we leave tonight.” I kid you not.
On the morning I was to speak at my dad’s funeral, and I sat in the silence wondering if I was up for such a thing. I turned on the radio and heard a song I’ve been listening to for thirty years, but never like I had that morning. “Oooh child, things are gonna’ get easier. Oooh child, things’ll get brighter.” I get chills thinking about it now.
And so, with all that in mind when I left the Stapleton’s Monday evening, I once again turned on the radio. I didn’t plan this. The song I heard was classic rock (God’s music), from 1970, performed by a band named Free (I’m telling you, I can’t make this stuff up).
“All right now /
“Baby, it’s all right now.”
You can’t tell me stuff like that just happens. You can’t tell me that in a world as complex as this one is, that it all just came about and goes on by pure chance. I’m a lawyer who’s knee-deep in ugly confrontations every day. I’m suspicious of anything I’m told.
But I have to believe there's something deep down in the soul of every one of us that yeans to be part of something much bigger than our little world. That's why we embrace college football and NASCAR. It's why also, in times of trouble, we wonder if the church on the corner really does have something to offer us. We want that because we need that, for without that we’re just walking down a dead-end road.
It all comes down to this: The case for the existence of a loving God is so much stronger than the one against Him, even when bad things happen to good people.
If it’s true that heaven exists, as I believe it does, then Chris is now having a reunion with family members he wasn’t sure he’d ever see before. He’s also preparing for the future reunion with family members who definitely want to see him again. And he, them.
If it’s true that heaven exists, as I believe it does, then his parents can take comfort in the knowledge that he’s now safe. And loved. And without a care in the world.
If it’s true that heaven exists, as I believe it does, then he’s leading his beloved Cowboys on a game-winning drive late in the fourth quarter. The crowd is loud. He’s having fun.
He’s having the time of his eternal life.
One day he'll tell us all about it.