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For a faithful man

A Multitude Of Thoughts

Psalm 139:1-18; Psalm 94:19 (KJV)

We have come to celebrate the life of Philip. I have to confess that I come to this day with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I am sad, for Phil has been not only a member of my flock, but also a good friend, and I will miss him. On the other hand, however, I am so proud of Phil, and I know you are, too. We are proud of him for how he lived as a faithful, consistent, honest Christian man, for how he has been a good husband, father, brother, and son. I am also proud of Phil for how he faced the valley of the shadow of death with calmness and courage -- for how while he was in it he did what he could to prepare you who love him to carry on after he made this final transition.

While it is hard to say good-bye, it is easy to celebrate Phil the man. Phil was the most straightforward, matter-of-fact, to-the-point man I have ever known. Sometimes in talking with him, you were surprised that the conversation was suddenly over, for he had said what he had to say without fuss. Yet once you got used to it, Phil's directness was one of his most endearing qualities. With Phil, what you saw was exactly what you got. Somehow with Phil, you knew that the good man he was in public was never an act. You knew that in private, he was exactly the same, an upright and honest man.

Because of Phil's unflinching honesty and his realistic outlook, he took life on its own terms. From the time he learned of his diagnosis, he faced it squarely. He knew the odds and wasted not one minute of the time he had left on denial or self-deception or raging about the unfairness of it all. Outwardly, he remained the same solid, decent man he had always been. And on the basis of some personal conversations he and I had in our respective roles as parishioner and pastor, I can assure you that his inner spiritual life was consistent with his outer demeanor.

Because Phil was so forthright and consistent, so lacking in any kind of a hidden agenda or emotional hang-ups, to know Phil was to like him, and that is the impression I have from people in our church. Phil was a man you just liked, and that is one measure of this man.

There was something else about Phil, too. You couldn't know him long without realizing that Phil was a thinker. The formal name for that quality is "intellection," but what it means is that the person with that characteristic gets genuine pleasure out of thinking about things. While everybody thinks, people with the intellection characteristic have a rich life going on in their heads.

One of the reasons I enjoyed talking with Phil was that when I alluded to some heady idea, Phil got it right away. I didn't have to explain it. As a man who enjoyed the challenge of thinking about things, Phil not only grasped the concept at once, but he could also come back with an example of it. He could see the connections between seemingly unrelated things in life. He could appreciate irony, and was comfortable with uncertainty. He could navigate without discomfort in an environment where we can't know all the answers.

There is a sense in which people with the intellection strength have such a wealthy life in their heads that they can adapt to outwardly difficult circumstances without feeling as deprived as others might. In his last days, Phil had become so weak that speaking more than a word or two had become difficult for him, but I said something to him about all that was going on in his head, and he nodded in agreement. I had that sense that the mental side of Phil was standing back and observing all that was happening to him physically, and was making scientific notes about the dying process.

That exchange with Phil brought to mind two Bible passages for this man you have respected and loved. One is Psalm 139, which I read a few moments ago, including especially these two verses (17-18):

How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them -- they are more than the sand;
I come to the end -- I am still with you.

The other is a single verse from Psalm 94 (v. 19), and while I usually prefer one of the modern translations of the Bible, for this verse, I think the old KJV puts it the best. It reads, "In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul." That is a verse for a thinker, for someone who lives in a lush, mental landscape. "In the multitude of my thoughts within me...." That describes Phil, certainly.

But don't miss the second half of the verse: "thy comforts delight my soul." That is the part of the verse that people without the intellection characteristic may have difficulty grasping. For some people, their faith and commitment to God shows in outward joy or in a fervency of public testimony or in an emotional high. And those are all fine and valid expressions of faith. But what may not be understood is that a thinker finds the same quality of delight in the inward experience of thinking about God, of weighing the philosophical questions about the meaning of God and about serving Christ. A thinker may not raise his hands in church as an act of praise or shout "Amen," but he experiences the joy of the Lord just as real through a life of rich thought. "In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul." Phil attended church regularly. He taught Sunday school and read scripture in worship. But I suspect that the most meaningful worship of God for Phil took place not in church but in his thoughts. There, he was a spiritual party animal.

So as Phil walks into eternity, where I have no doubt there is a warm welcome waiting for him, he will discover why heaven is sometimes called "the land of endless delight." For there, the richness of delight that has marked Phil's inner life will be matched by his outer circumstances.

Phil, thank you for being our faithful friend. You have earned our respect and appreciation and love. We hope that we may live our lives as well as you have lived yours. We miss you already, but man, it has been good know you! Amen.