FUNERALS AND FREEBIRD

This past week I buried a friend. It was an unusual funeral by all accounts. But, Rivers was an unusual friend.

I first met Rivers about seven years ago when he showed up for our Sunday morning worship service at the small United Methodist Church I was attending. Walking into the sanctuary from Sunday School, we were met with the sight of a burly mountain-man: well over six feet in height, bushy head of hair and unkempt beard falling down below his chest, standing there wearing a leather motorcycle jacket, leather gloves, chain holding his wallet to his faded blue jeans. If it had been anyplace other than in church, I might have been more hesitant that I was. As it was, I just slid a little closer to the wall and a little further away from him. Later, he confided with me that he showed up dressed like that for shock value and to see how the church would react to him.

Rivers used to belong to a motorcycle gang, and from all accounts lived a rather hard and rough life before coming to the Lord. But, once he was saved, his life was drastically and dramatically changed and the earth was never the same. Despite my initial misgivings, Rivers turned out to have a heart of gold hidden behind that rough exterior. His overwhelming desire was to see others brought to Christ. He didn't let his lack of knowledge of the Bible stop him from sharing his faith. He didn't let his appearance stop him from sharing his faith. He didn't let the views of the world stop him from sharing his faith. Not a day went by where Rivers did not witness to someone and not a Sunday went by without Rivers and his wife bringing a new acquaintance to church.

After I left that church in response to my call, I still kept tabs with Rivers. I was called to his bedside at the hospital about four years ago. The doctors had given him two years to live. Rivers said they were wrong. The reason he was there in the first place was to witness to the doctors and the nurses. The doctors shook their heads and sent him home, in surprisingly good health. And, contrary to the doctor's opinion, Rivers outlived their prediction.

Last year, I visited Rivers in the hospital again. This time the news was more dire. They were giving him days, if not hours to live. Rivers blessed me as I walked in and told me the doctors were wrong again. "God's not done with me yet." And God wasn't. The doctors shook their heads, and a dead man walked out of the hospital on his own. Even after Rivers got sick, he never stopped witnessing to others. At one point they put him in a nursing home for several weeks. On Sundays, he would load up his car with nursing home residents and carry them to church and then back again. Even on days when the chemo got him down and he could barely walk, he would still pick up his neighbors and drive 20 miles to church (and we miss church because it's raining or we're too tired).

Over the course of this time, Rivers had asked me to assist with his funeral. He had it all planned out as an evangelistic event. But then he called me back and said to forget it. God wasn't done with him yet and he had more work to do. He'd worry about his funeral in the future. "But," he said, "don't forget. I want to have "Free Bird" by Lynard Skynard played at my funeral."

As I sat there this week in the middle of the funeral, listening to the closing strains of "Free Bird" and reflecting on such an unusual choice for a funeral, I was struck as how fitting it was. We all thought Rivers was an unusual Christian, but perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps we were the unusual Christians, because we were the ones who worried what the world thought about us, we were the ones who didn't share our faith because of what others might think, we were the ones who didn't bother to ask friends to church.

It was hard not to smile as I preached that morning. For Free Bird fit the bill (despite the shocked faces of the faithful) and Rivers had gone on to Heaven to the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant." Unusual? Yes. But precious in the sight of God. A life well lived and a friend I will miss but will see again. May we all be a little unusual in our lives and may we allow God to work through us as He worked through Rivers in his life.