Paul Townsend died this morning, and I feel giddy, elated almost. This seems like a bizarrely inappropriate emotion but I can't shake it. There is an image that keeps replaying in my mind:
7:45 AM Paul lying in bed, face misshapen by a tumor, and body ravaged by disease.
Oh, but then 7:46 AM - Paul, body restored, and strong, standing before his Savior, and hearing these words, "Well done, my good and faithful servant." I know this is what he heard, and it gives me chills.
What a juxtaposition. One minute he is living with all that it is crummy and fallen in this world, and the next he is drowning in the pure, unspeakable joy of standing in the presence of God Almighty.
His life was well lived. He knew his purpose, and lived it. He loved his wife, and laid his life down for her. He has 2 grown children, who are a legacy to his fine parenting, and bring honor to the man he was. I am sure that his memorial service will be packed with an intricate web of people who's lives are woven together by the impact that Paul had on them.
He was that kind of man.
On his best day, Paul never looked like a football player. He didn't carry himself with the polish of news anchor. He wasn't even especially charismatic. But there was a strength about Paul that drew people to him. There was a quality about him that changed people who were with him. It must have been Jesus; it had to have been.
I know Paul's family will hear many stories of the impact their dad and husband had on others in the coming days. But I have one too. Paul, wouldn't remember it, I'm sure. But I do. It was important to me.
In the early days of Cornerstone Church we met in a school auditorium. I was a college student, and one Sunday this creepy guy started tagging after me. Cornering me. The next Sunday he brought me bizarre gifts, and again cornered me. No one noticed, and I was totally freaked out. There was something about this guy that made me feel very, very unsafe, but I couldn't name it. So I told Paul, because he was approachable, and I thought he'd take me seriously. He did. He came to my defense. Paul and Gene (our pastor) talked. The police were contacted, and this guy was asked, not to come back to the church. Ever. That day Paul was to me everything that a man should be. He was strong. He was my protector. He was so very, very safe.
I am sad for Martha, because she will have to learn how to be a widow. And she will not grow old with her love. I can't even begin to understand her loss. But in her life she has known the love of a good man, a godly man. How many women can say that?
I am sad for Natalie because her dad won't be there to walk her down the isle, and she will never get to see her dad play with her children. That is a huge loss. But Natalie has known what it is like to be "daddy's little girl". She got to be his princess. She gets to carry that in her heart.
I am sad for Bryan. He's not going to get to shoot hoops with his dad, or watch the Superbowl. But Bryan got to see real masculinity lived out in front of him.
But today I say, "Death, Oh where is your victory, where is your sting. " For in Christ, I know one who has been more than a conqueror.
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