I went by my parents house yesterday, and noticed the tape of Evan's service at First Presbyterian sitting out. I considered it a moment, and decided to watch it. I am cautious to put it in the VCR, as I know that I can go from ok to hopeless in a matter of moments. Nevertheless, I opted to watch it. I am amazed at how little I remember from his funeral. I don't know how to describe it, except that I was not present that day. Very much an out of body type feeling. I will not attempt to instill any words of wisdom of my own(my futile attempts at them anyway). Rather, I will leave you with a few excerpts from Dr. Doak's meditation, as I think he answers questions that I have had, and delivers a beautiful message about Evan and about God's love for us.

"We are stunned in disbelief that we are here today. We know the what of what happened to Evan; but the why is harder to understand. I do know that the why was not the will of God. He does not will tragedy for you and me; he does not will that we leave the ones we love and that care for us to join him in the heavens.

God's will for us is happiness, life, and goodness. God would not have sent us the Christ if God had wanted us to be miserable and suffering people. But tragedies do happen all around us. A bomb explodes and people that you and I care for die. On days like these, days when our young people and children are taken from us, I believe there is sorrow in the heart of God.

The freedom God gives us does not allow God to protect us from these tragedies; but God does suffer along with us and loves us through them. Today we can thank God that he gave us Evan for a few brief years; one to share with us the warmth and love and friendship of life.

Teenage years can be a struggle; times where we try and figure out the purpose of life. Some struggle with those years more than others. Evan wrote about that struggle in a youth Sunday sermon that he gave from this pulpit four years ago, his senior year in high school: 'Throughout the recent years of my life, I have tried to change to make life better, but I've always failed. I wanted to be someone that I wasn't. But now I have learned the most important lesson of my life: I ain't what I ain't. I am what I am. I have finally accepted myself for who I am and have realized just how good life really is. I have a family that cares for me and friends that love me. I have found in a few days what I have been searching for; I have found peace.'

As a pastor, I often tell people that life is a gift from God, that life is a gift on loan to us for a passage of time. The psalmist wrote, 'deep calls to deep, all your ways and your billows have gone over me.' The deep in God touches the deep in us is what the psalmist is trying to say. Some catch that better than others.

Evan was a quiet man, and the quiet ones are the ones we need to pay the most attention to, because the waters often run deep. They keep their deep thoughts..

In the meantime, we can thank God for this young man, who was a good son, a good grandson, a good brother, a good nephew, a good cousin, a good army buddy, and a good friend. We can thank God for that and from there begin to put the pieces of our lives back together again.

Psalm 23 read earlier says, 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.' We have to walk through the valley before we ascend the hill. So many get trapped in the valley, but we are beckoned through the valley by none other than the Christ our Lord.

We learn we can depend on Jesus a little more, and we're the better for it. These lines from Evan's sermon are a fitting closing to this meditation. The theme for that day was peace, and I think it is our theme for today as well. Evan wrote:

'Peace is accepting life as it is and not the way we think it should be or how you want it to be. It sounds simple, doesn't it? It is.

When life takes a turn for the worse, simply accepting the pain you feel instead of wishing it was different can bring you peace. God has a plan for each and every one of us, and although sometimes our lives seem to be filled with sadness, we can rest assured that God is waiting to pull us out from the darkness at the end of the tunnel.' "

As I sit in my parents living room, I cannot help but feel sadness, but feel that I am still in the valley, that I am still struggling and missing Evan more than I can even put into words. I am reminded that this isn't going away, that it is something we are all going to carry with us until we take our last breath on Earth.

I love the last prayer that Dr. Doak delivered at the service, which I heard for the first time today, and I think it is a good closing:

Oh God, we thank you for your promise that all of your children will live eternally with you. Especially we thank you for the life of Evan, for the goodness of his life. For all in him that was good and kind. We thank you for the ways he lifted his friends and family to higher ground, and what he taught all of us about life and its struggles.

In that place where peace and holiness will reign forevermore, from all our scattered memories, give us the courage and strength to live again. And though we look back over our shoulder from time to time, to wish again for more; for all the times which have been, direct us to the life we have to live. To the future, yet unborn. To others who now will lead our affirmation of what is good and pure and holy. Guard brave men and women who risk themselves in battle for their country. At moments like this oh Lord, it is difficult to know what to do next, but we know enough to trust in you. So we return to you the gift of life, which in love was given to us. Help us hold hard to our memories of Evan.