Remembering Grandad (John 10)

This last Friday night Feb 23rd my Grandfather died. As I reflect on his life I am reminded of a man who pursued life. As a child I knew him as a loving grandparent who would take us to the park, taught us how to fly kites, a man covered in paint who had great patience and exuberance over a child's painting, a musician who loved to hear his grandchildren play their feeble songs on the piano and who picked up his violin to play along. He was the man who taught us all how to dance, not only around the dance floor flowing with grace and music, but through life. This is what he did, he danced with life as a partner flowing and moving from one phase of life to the next.

After retiring from teaching at Western Washington University, he began painting with water color in earnest. He had always done art but now he really dove into the dance. Painting tours around the world, art shows and galleries displaying his work. Life led him into writing as well producing stories and books. And he continued to love well. He always upheld personal relationships and connection as his highest value.

He also knew when to rest. He was never ashamed to lie down on the floor for a 20 minute power nap. Rising refreshed and off to the rest of life. Open heart surgeries caused him to rest and recover, but soon he was once again up and moving again walking the WWU campus. Grandad knew the voice, the call, the lead of abundant life. I am sure that he was not perfect and I know he was human because he is now at rest, but I know he pursued the dance of life always.

Jesus said in John 10:10 he came to give live in abundance. This was the life, which Grandad sought after, and abundant and full life. While I don't think he would have called Jesus the source of this abundant life he pursued it nonetheless. He heard the voice of life resonate deep within his heart. Just before Jesus makes the offer of abundant life, he tells us there is a thief that has come to steal kill and destroy. Today I feel the work of the thief. The dance floor is silent, empty and still. I walk out looking for my grandfather to be moving across the wooden paths, but he's not there anymore. He has been stolen from us...from me.

The voice of the thief has been trying to get through to me the past few days. "Wouldn't it be easier if this were all over?" he whispers, "Just let the dance floor go completely silent, the dance of life simply ends empty." But this is not the voice of a resurrected Christ, and this is not the voice my Grandfather heard. For the voice of Christ strikes up the music once more and invites us to dance again.

So may we dance...my dear friends and family. May we remember Grandad and dance...