The Hero Lives

On Saturday, I spoke/officiated at a memorial service for 26 year-old Brett Warren.  Here is what I said:

Scripture:  Excerpts from 1 Samuel 17 (Story of David & Goliath)

News of Brett’s death came to me in the middle of a week of directing Chi-Rho camp at Loch Leven, which is the Disciples camp and conference center in southern California.  It was a camp that was almost evenly matched between boys and girls, with the boys having a very slight numerical advantage over the girls.  As a pastor who often works with youth, who has seen boys and men stop attending church more often than girls and women, and who is himself the father of two boys, I have a particular interest in presenting faith in such a way that it helps boys become men, in a way that faith becomes something they can hold on to, something that can guide them through life, and be the men God created them to be.

What I’ve learned is that every boy needs to be a hero.  That is every boy’s calling.  That is what God created boys for: to don capes and save the world.  Once they do that, they’ve taken a giant step toward becoming a man.

This talk of being a cape-wearing superhero is metaphorical, but it is true.  Every boy is called to be a hero. And every boy must find his own path to becoming a hero.  He must find a way to become a hero in a way that fits his own unique individuality.

Saul tried to make David fit Saul’s own idea of what a hero is.  He tried to dress David in his own gear, putting his own coat of armor on him and a big bronze helmet on his head.

And David couldn’t even walk.  He was a little guy.  The gear was too cumbersome, and he wasn’t used to it.  If he was going to do this – if he was going to save his world from the giant and become a hero – he had to figure out his own way.

Brett figured out his own way of becoming a hero.  Often, it involved actual – not metaphorical – capes. 

But more than that, it involved love and respect; and everyone who came in contact with Brett felt that love and respect.  Brett was a true friend, even to those he had just met.  He went out of his way to show kindness.

That was his strength.  His superpower.

He had good role models in this.  He told me as much one time at CGC.  He talked about his parents – and especially his Dad – with such devotion and admiration, in a way that you never hear teenage boys talk about their parents.  I knew then that the love this family shared was something special.

As he grew into a man, Brett continued to be a hero to many.  To my son, and to many others, he was a hero.  As a counselor at CGC, he had an entire cabin of young boys running around camp with their beach-towel capes, having fun, and learning how to be the heroes God called them to be. 

An excellent student, Brett entered college, then figured out that perhaps that wasn’t the type of hero God was calling him to be.  After some time back home, he was accepted into the Navy’s exclusive Nuclear Propulsion Program. Talk about being a hero!  For Brett – now a man – that truly was something he took pride in.

But then a giant appeared on the scene.  A giant named Depression.  Brett had wrestled with this giant once before, and the giant retreated.  After all, Brett was strong.  He was a hero... And he had help.  There is no shame in that.  Depression is a disease that often requires treatment.  Even for heroes.

As we know now, the giant snuck back into Brett’s life a few weeks ago.  Suddenly.  With almost no warning.  Perhaps it caught Brett by surprise.  That can happen, even to superheroes.

And now we are left with the sadness, the confusion, and the anger.  How could this have happened?  How could Brett, the superhero that he was, have let this happened?

The questions just hang there.  The answers do not come.

Maybe if we had reached out to him a little more, talked to him a little more, loved him a little more?...

No.  No!  Brett felt the connection.  Brett felt the love. My instinct tells me this, and conversations with Brett’s family confirm this in my mind:  Brett knew he was loved.  By his family.  By his friends. By God.

But the giant overpowered him.  The giant perhaps saw a fleeting, momentary weakness in that superhero armor, and seized the opportunity

Does that mean the giant wins? 

At the beginning of my week of directing Chi-Rho camp, I already had it in the back of my mind that, one day that week, I would wear a beach-towel cape.  That’s the influence Brett had on me.  I believe it was Thursday when I heard the news about Brett, and I realized that I hadn’t yet donned my cape.  Immediately I knew:  it was time.

Before long, about a half-dozen boys were also running around Loch Leven, wearing their own beach towel capes as they learned how to be men of faith. 

Some of you are wearing your towel capes today.  Others of you have worn them in the past.  I think today, we all wear them in our hearts. That can only mean one thing:

The giant has not won.  The hero lives.