First-Hand Redemption

The emotion caught me by surprise. So much so, I closed my eyes and shook my head like I’d swallowed a particularly hot cup of coffee. I’d been in church before, but this was different. I’d attended funerals, but never one like this. What made it different were the people. At first, I couldn’t figure it out, but then it became clear: Everyone gathered was redeemed . . .  and they knew it. Just recalling it a day later gives me chills.

The man whose life we were celebrating was a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. He’d been a member for forty years and his impact in the recovery community was as large as the congregation. Whether in suits or dresses, blue jeans or shorts, adorned with tattoos or glittering jewelry, what they had in common were lives filled with struggles and countless mistakes. Remembering the various gutters from which they had been lifted, their gratitude made the ground so holy I almost removed my shoes. I’m embarrassed to admit the experience was new - not the gratitude, but its source.

You see, I grew up in churches with grateful people. They were grateful for the blessing of their lives – comfortable homes, financial security (if not abundance), and Christmas card worthy families. The folks at the funeral had none, or not many, of those things. Instead, they had a personal sense of God’s love and forgiveness. You could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. They were grateful for a different abundance, the abundance of God’s love and forgiveness. I know everyone is redeemed. I was just moved to be surrounded by people who knew it first-hand.