Thursday, September 2, 2010

a tribute

Last Tuesday I went home to both mourn the loss and celebrate the life of Clint McMartin. Though it seems there are no words to describe this loss, it still seems most worthy of words.

I've written poems and personal narratives, newspaper features and numerous research papers. I've written monologues, debate arguments, restaurant reviews and writing critiques. I've written reflections and ridiculously corny rhymes, but I don't know how to write this.

I don't know how to clearly communicate what it means to lose a man that I admittedly did not know well, but knew well enough to know he was one of the good guys. I don't know how to persuade you to believe that Clint had a God-given talent of teaching and coaching and that he was using his gifts to do great things. I can't tell you the story of all the young men and women in whose lives he made a difference, though I can tell you my brother is a better man for being Clint's friend. I don't know how to express that while I still can't help but think this whole situation is wildly unfair, I am still in awe of how God is using this to His glory. I don't know how to write a tribute, so I'll settle for another form of writing with which I'm familiar: a thank you note.

Thank you, Clint, for living a life that so clearly expressed the love you had for your Savior, your family, and those around you.

Thank you, McMartin family, for handling this tragedy with grace and for using your loss as an opportunity to share your faith with the many who mourn with you.

Thank you, Father, for being sovereign over us all and for giving us Your comfort and peace despite the confusing and painful nature of Clint's death. Thank you for the promise that for those who believe, this is not the end, but only the beginning.

Isaiah 55:8-11
'For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,'
declares the LORD.
'As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.'

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