The memorial for the two YWAMers murdered late last week was everything you would want it to be. It was deep, it was shallow, it was funny, it was sad--we laughed and we cried. A lot.
Phillip's father and sister spoke, as well as a couple of friends and his pastor. All essentially painted a picture of the Phillip I knew. He was zealous about life, and whatever he jumped into, he went in all the way--over his head. He did and tried things because he wanted to see if he could do them. If he thought he could, he went after it, no matter what.
I was deeply moved by Tiffany Johnson's family and friends, who spoke of a young woman that loved widely and freely, and who lived fully. I wish I had known her. I was jealous that I hadn't.
One other marvel. Tiffany's family (there must have been fifteen people on the stage) revealed that they were that afternoon meeting with the father and mother of the murderer. They were going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Murray that they were not responsible for their son's actions, and that the Johnson family in no way held them accountable. Further, Tiffany's family had forgiven their son for his heinous act.
Dear God, what love. Clearly, the Johnson family knows God--what He's like and how He works and how He loves in us and through us.
These are wonderful, marvelous people, and that was obvious at the memorial. As difficult as it was, I loved the day.