The Rev. Frank Logue
Trinity Episcopal Church
Statesboro, Georgia
May 19, 2001

Trust in God
A Sermon for the Funeral Service of Joel Benjamin Campbell
Wisdom 3:1-5,9 l Psalm 139:1-11 l Revelation 21:2-7 l John 14:1-6

I should not be here today. None of us should be here today.

Ben is my brother-in-law. Ben is also my godchild and 14 years younger than me. Ben should have been the one to attend my funeral. It would be more right for Ben to preach at my funeral than for me to be here at Ben’s. After all, it would probably be a much more entertaining service. Ben would have known the right Creedence Clearwater Revival songs and tunes by The Doors to combine for an appropriately inappropriate mix of music.

Ben is the one with the awesome sense of humor and the courage to use it. Ben would have had no problem poking fun at me, perhaps eulogizing me as a loser. He always liked to call me a loser. When we played computer games, Ben almost always won. But if I won, Ben would invariably say, “Yeah, you won, but you’re still a loser.”

Ben calling me a loser, and this from a man who often stated his life’s goal was to be a speed bump. I only say that to make sure I don’t go too far. I don’t want to paint an only rosy picture of my godson. Of course, that speed bump joke was just one side of Ben, the side that enjoyed seeing the reactions as people tried to decide how serious he was. Ben’s real goal was to join Greenpeace in the efforts to force environmental issues into the public consciousness.

Ben was always very giving, concerned for the needs of those he loved. Like the time he switched places with his brother Tom in school when Tom was having surgery. He wanted to make sure someone was there to attend Tom’s classes and do Tom’s work. It never occurred to Ben that there would be no one there to take care of his work. He only saw what Tom needed. Deeply caring, fiercely loyal to family and friends, and always interested in fairness and justice, there was always more to Ben that you might see at first glance.

In the few minutes I have here today, I can neither sum up Ben’s life, nor make sense of his death. I too am among those gathered here still numb with grief and shock, coming to terms with believing, knowing, the unbelievable. Ben’s death has ended his life, but it cannot and will never end our relationship with Ben. The relationship continues. Ben will always be a part of our lives. But there is no peace yet. How could this happen? Why would God allow it, or, heaven forbid, cause it?

I reject any idea that God wanted Ben to die. That it was Ben’s time. Or that Ben’s death was God’s will. The idea that God caused or desired Ben’s tragic, early death is not backed up by scripture. Ben’s death was an accident caused by the type of bad choices we all make at some point or another. Our bad choices just don’t always have such tragic consequences. The unfairness of his death is the sort of thing that ticked Ben off. Life should be more fair. Why isn’t life more fair?

We have been plunged into the darkness of unknowing. There is so much we do not know and will never know, not about Ben’s death so much as his life and how our lives can go on without his. Into that darkness comes the words of the Psalmist. Speaking of spiritual darkness, the Psalmist writes, “If I say, ‘Surely darkness will cover me and the light around me turn to night.’ Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, darkness and light to you are both light”

God is with us in the darkness of our grief and loss. God will work with us in the darkness to turn our unendurable grief into bearable sorrow. In the Gospel reading, we get the words from Jesus that point the way out of the dark night of the soul. Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” To which all I can say is, “Too late.” My heart is already troubled. I don’t think I’m alone. But Jesus still speaks, “Trust in God, trust also in me.” We will have to give our pain and loss to God for it to be redeemed. God may not have wanted Ben to die just yet, but God is always ready and able to redeem our tragedies and find some good that can come from them.

Can there be a heaven with Ben in it? Is there room for someone like Ben there? Will they allow him to crank his stereo that loud? Or is heaven the kind of place where Ben finally gets a car that drives reliably? Another way of asking the questions is, “Could there be heaven without Ben?”

Jesus speaks again and says his own version of it-takes-all-kinds-to-pack-those-golden-streets. Jesus told his disciples, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may be where I am.”

I stood there that Sunday many years ago and watched as Ben was baptized. Father Doug Winn poured that water over his head baptizing Ben in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Ben was fully initiated into a faith that he wasn’t always sure he could fully believe. Well join the club Ben. Most of us are in that camp. Following the baptism, with his head still damp from the baptismal waters, Father Winn marked the sign of the cross on his forehead with oil and proclaimed, “Ben, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.” Forever is a mighty long time. Is it too much to ask for? How many rooms are in God’s house and who gets to crash there for all time?

Jesus is still saying those words, “Trust in God. Trust also in me.” Amen.