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The Rev. Frank
Logue Echoes of Resurrection—A Eulogy for Jesse Michael Nunn
This week has been a week of echoes. I have gathered in many of the same places and with most of the same people I was with just 18 months ago. And so there are echoes of Chris Duncan’s tragic death. It is impossible not to remember Chris again as we remember Jesse. Especially as I have been preparing for this sermon, knowing how Jesse helped me prepare for Chris’ eulogy. Jesse rode with me to meet people and talk about Chris and we talked as we rode. And then when my sermon was complete, Jesse and his sister Lara sat here in this empty sanctuary and listened to the eulogy, previewing the words to make sure I had captured something of their bother. Jesse was pleased with that sermon. And so as I have spoken to friends and family about Jesse I have had this sense of echoes. But even with the similarities, the differences are more important. They loved each other and enjoyed being together, but Jesse Nunn was not Chris Duncan in life or in death. As his friend Natalie put it, “Where Chris was serious, Jesse was out of this world hilarious.” We are here to remember a unique human—Jesse Michael Nunn. Spontaneous. Funny. Genuine, not pretentious in the least. He loved life. Enjoyed life. Lived life. Of course, sometimes you only want so much spontaneous out of this world hilarity in your life. As his friend Windy put it, she loved his kiddie ways so much she hated them. As Meghan says, “He was goofy and a prankster.” He also pushed things past the point of aggravation at times. Tell him to stop doing something because it annoyed you and he would do it all the more. He could hold on to things and not let go. That is what made his brother Chris’ death so hard on him. Jesse had a tender, caring heart and so dealing with the loss was tough. But he had come through that and was doing well and in the process he didn’t lose the kindness that made it impossible not to put up with the times when he was over the top. Staci credits Jesse with saving her life. Both were diabetics and Staci had been through some problems regulating her blood sugar. Jesse talked her in to getting an insulin pump and taught her to use it, bringing her diabetes under control. And his sister Lara recalls the kayaking trip they took to Cumberland Island. It was an eight mile paddle out, a hike on the island and then a hard paddle home. They were sharing a tandem kayak and on the trip back in, she was barely able to keep the paddle going. Jesse told her to stop and he took over all the paddling. Jesse had been working out quite a bit and he had no trouble finishing the day strong, in fact they got in trouble with the guide for passing all the others and getting out front. And David Farrell remembers being home sick and Jesse came by to check on him. When David, who was all medicined up, didn’t answer the door, Jesse climbed a tree and looked in the window to check on his friend. As Gabe puts it, “He’s the only person I could trust no matter what. I know he would help me no questions asked.” But it didn’t have to be a friend or family member. Jesse always looked out for outsiders, he was concerned for the homeless and the outcast. Like the time he hit up a conversation with a hobo on the pier. They got talking about trigonometry of all things. But Jesse was also the one who snuck a homeless dog over the fence at the Humane Society one night so it would be OK and who stopped along the highway to remove a dead cat from the road so that she could rest in peace. It’s like his dad says, “Jesse was not out to impress people by being something he wasn’t. He was genuine, one of the kindest people you could meet.” Of course, being a pretty buff manly man with a tender heart made Jesse more than a little attractive to girls. And in hearing stories about Jesse these past few days, I’ve noticed there are guys in the stories, but there are always a lot of girls around, more girls than guys for sure. Like Natalie’s 13th birthday party where he was the only boy at a party of girls and he did a great job hula dancing in a grass skirt. Jesse’s funny side always came through. His Dad recalled how he was being all manly one day, arranging to borrow boat and tent to go to Cumberland Island. His parents helped him get the boat and he’s being all grown up and sincere. But when he and Windy are ready to head out, she pulls out her pirate costume and Jesse pulls a pirate hat and a plastic sword out of his backpack. He was off to the island to play pirates. That was Jesse. Funny. Fun to be around. So you looked over that stupid hat he wore. Or the fact that he was in his Superman shirt half the time. You could even put up with his crazy political ideas like Condoleezza Rice being the Antichrist. You could put up with all of it and did because the world was brighter with Jesse in it. That’s what makes this week so hard. How could he die in a meaningless accident? Though one bit of grace this week for me has been to see how each of the families most closely tied to one another by the accident have reached out showing real concern—the girl driving the jeep and her family have shown true sympathy for the Duncans and Kevan and Brenda have shown real loving concern for their family as well. Two families have been devastated and though their pain is very different they have shown Christ-like love and we would all do well to follow their example. But Jesse’s death is even harder because it comes with echoes 18 months old, echoes of another tragic death. But Chris Duncan’s death is not the only one echoing this morning. If you’ll trust me just a moment, and listen, we can also hear echoes of Jesus’ own death. Jesus who died unfairly, tragically, all too soon. Jesus who had been raised by a loving stepfather. Jesus whose grieving mother held his battered body in her arms. Jesus whose death left friends and family in shock, struggling to comprehend how God could let this happen. Yes, there are echoes of the cross this morning and they are strong if we will listen. As our reading from Lamentations said even in grief, perhaps especially in grief, we find that God “will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.” So where do we find steadfast love in the midst of death. Jesus put it this way to his friend Martha in our Gospel reading, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” I know that Jesse believed in that salvation. I know it because he told me so. I know it because he was counting on that salvation to have his brother Chris safe in heaven, just as we lean on it now for Jesse. Sure he was a 19-year old not exactly focused on church and the Bible. But he had as a boy put his trust in Christ. He had stepped forward for baptism. And then he had gone on to annoy the church by wanting to take up offerings when he was much younger than the ushers. And he had annoyed his family by saying grace and taking forever as he intently bowed his head and thanked God for the trees, and birds, and the food and the table and… you get the idea. No he wasn’t thinking about the cross or the resurrection when he was riding on his motorcycle Saturday night. He didn’t have to be. He had put his trust in God and we place our trust there as well, counting on steadfast love even in our grief. And so if we listen even harder, we can hear much fainter echoes, echoes of the resurrection. We are not there yet. We are still in the Good Friday of Jesse’s death. We are still in the shock of the loss of a life cut far too short. But as we know that Jesse’s death can remind us of Jesus’ own death, so in his death we can see the promise of the empty tomb. In some small ways comfort has already been on its way. We are far from the peace we seek, but already Brenda and Kevan his Aunt Nancy felt assurance that Jesse is OK even as we were in the emergency room. Jesse is safe. Jesse is with his grandparents and his brother and he is OK. I know it, because no lie I heard the very echoes of the resurrection in the emergency room on Saturday night as I held Jesse’s hand. It was painful beyond words to feel the very life slipping out of him and yet there was a sense that he was passing from life through death and into life everlasting. I might not be able to convince you that what I felt was real, but I don’t have to and neither do Kevan and Brenda. We know that we know that we know that faint as those echoes are, the echoes we have heard of the cross and resurrection are real. For Jesus said, “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.” Through all the noise of the very real pain and loss of Jesse’s death it would be easy to miss the sound. But listen, listen close and you’ll know that echo of the resurrection is present right here right now as we mourn for Jesse in the sure and certain hope that though he has died, yet will he live. Amen.
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