I wrote this little piece for a co-worker who recently passed. It was for his eulogy.

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The first time I met Sean I realized that he was, indeed, a very tall man. I felt like I had arrived late to a packed movie theater being forced to sit in the front row and look up at the screen with my head tilted all the way back.

Luckily, for me and all of us, he wasn’t as “tall” and “scary” when you got to actually know him.

Sean was the 3rd person I interviewed with when I arrived in Atlanta and as I sat in his office he would oftentimes stoop very low to the table, (which I imagined must have been difficult considering his tall frame). I felt strangely comfortable with him as he told me right off the bat: “John, this is a safe place. Speak easy my friend.”

And, I did.

I shared with him my hopes and excitement about working with such an amazingly-impressive organization as well my fears of being able to manage the transition from the marketplace into ministry. He would nod knowingly, giving tidbits of advice that we’re absolutely choice; a few of them I vaguely remembered, most of them I forgot, but there was one that was seared into my memory:

“See,” he said, “You and I could leave today and go back into the secular business world and make 10 times what we make in this place, and we’d be good for it. But we’d never have the opportunity to serve God like we do here.”

That was exactly what I needed to hear. He met me where I was and spoke truth without hesitation.

Needless to say, his words, and many others, helped me to accept the position once it was so graciously offered here.

I wish I could share with Sean what I’ve now had the opportunity to do here at North Point, and what we’re going to do in the near future. I’d tell him that I feel that I’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime and a chance to do something that the world has never seen. I’d tell him that he was right, that I’d never would have been able to do what I’m doing now; never would have been able to serve the Lord like this.

I’d probably shake his hand (making sure that my grip was firm so as not to be crushed by his) and look him dead in the eyes, and say “Sean, you we’re right man. Thanks for that.”

And since I didn’t know Sean for too long I don’t know exactly what he’d say in response. Perhaps it would have been something cleverly-witty or fun, or maybe he’d just give me that big grin. But, without a doubt, I am confident enough to say that he’d probably tell me exactly what I needed to hear, just like he did the first time I met him.

[Image from DC]