I received word today that my friend, Frank Chamberlain, passed away this morning. Frank certainly touched my life—and his loss saddens me greatly.
Frank Chamberlain was the president and founding partner of a funeral home in Lima, OH (Chamberlain-Huckeriede Funeral Home)—as well as a member of Trinity UMC (where I was the associate pastor for 5 years). For some reason, Frank and I had an instant bond. He would call me to do funerals for people who had no pastor…and he always wanted me to sing. Without fail, every time I saw Frank he would tell me how much he “loved to hear me sing”. You can’t help but like someone as flattering as that! Really, though, I liked Frank because he listened to people, he cared about their needs, and he made you feel important when you were around him. Over the years, multitudes of people had the privilege of working with him during times of deep despair and crisis in their lives. Frank was, to them, more of a pastor than someone (like me) who came in to lead the actual service. So, today, I remember—with tears as well as smiles--my fellow minister, friend and follower of Jesus.
As I was preparing to leave Lima this summer--to pastor a church in the Columbus area--Frank threw me a “going away” lunch…right there in the funeral home…in a room where I had given many a sermon and sung many a song. I believe there are few people who can actually say they had a going away luncheon right in the middle of a funeral home viewing room! To say the spread that day was elaborate would be an understatement. The lunch Frank had for me was a metaphor for the way he did things: beautifully, with perfection and grace. Frank was a 100% kind of guy, who did things well and expected things to be well done by those around him. He made you want to be the best version of yourself. I know I am a better person for knowing him.
During that memorable and meaningful luncheon, I received many gifts, but the one I most treasure was one that Frank dreamed up all by himself. He presented it to me proudly and with his characteristic, “knowing” grin: my very own little purple urn, filled with “Lima dirt”…so that I could “take a little piece of Lima with me”. Now, I treasure that gift all the more, because it means I will always have a little piece of Frank with me, as well.
I hope, at the end of my life, I will have touched as many lives as Frank Chamberlain did. In the end, isn’t life all about loving God and loving others? Frank had that down pat! While I am saddened that this world has lost such a good man of great love, I know there is another world where a great big party is going on tonight. I rejoice with my friend, Frank, who is now where I most long to be: in the fullness of God’s presence. Heaven is lucky, but boy are we gonna miss you down here.
And now a poem that Frank heard me read so many times…and now it is true of him.
"A parable of Immortality"
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads his white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. He is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last he hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, "There, he is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight…that is all. He is just as large in mast and hull and spar as he was when he left my side and just as able to bear his load of living freight to the place of destination. His diminished size is in me, not in him.
And just at that moment when someone at my side says, "There he goes!" there are other eyes, watching him coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here he comes!"
In closing, I offer this beautiful song (below) in memory of my friend Frank. To us, this feels like the end…but we who follow Jesus know it is just the beginning. I know that you are now listening to the music of the angels, Frank...but this song (especially its words) has to come about as close we get in this world.
Frank Chamberlain was the president and founding partner of a funeral home in Lima, OH (Chamberlain-Huckeriede Funeral Home)—as well as a member of Trinity UMC (where I was the associate pastor for 5 years). For some reason, Frank and I had an instant bond. He would call me to do funerals for people who had no pastor…and he always wanted me to sing. Without fail, every time I saw Frank he would tell me how much he “loved to hear me sing”. You can’t help but like someone as flattering as that! Really, though, I liked Frank because he listened to people, he cared about their needs, and he made you feel important when you were around him. Over the years, multitudes of people had the privilege of working with him during times of deep despair and crisis in their lives. Frank was, to them, more of a pastor than someone (like me) who came in to lead the actual service. So, today, I remember—with tears as well as smiles--my fellow minister, friend and follower of Jesus.
As I was preparing to leave Lima this summer--to pastor a church in the Columbus area--Frank threw me a “going away” lunch…right there in the funeral home…in a room where I had given many a sermon and sung many a song. I believe there are few people who can actually say they had a going away luncheon right in the middle of a funeral home viewing room! To say the spread that day was elaborate would be an understatement. The lunch Frank had for me was a metaphor for the way he did things: beautifully, with perfection and grace. Frank was a 100% kind of guy, who did things well and expected things to be well done by those around him. He made you want to be the best version of yourself. I know I am a better person for knowing him.
During that memorable and meaningful luncheon, I received many gifts, but the one I most treasure was one that Frank dreamed up all by himself. He presented it to me proudly and with his characteristic, “knowing” grin: my very own little purple urn, filled with “Lima dirt”…so that I could “take a little piece of Lima with me”. Now, I treasure that gift all the more, because it means I will always have a little piece of Frank with me, as well.
I hope, at the end of my life, I will have touched as many lives as Frank Chamberlain did. In the end, isn’t life all about loving God and loving others? Frank had that down pat! While I am saddened that this world has lost such a good man of great love, I know there is another world where a great big party is going on tonight. I rejoice with my friend, Frank, who is now where I most long to be: in the fullness of God’s presence. Heaven is lucky, but boy are we gonna miss you down here.
And now a poem that Frank heard me read so many times…and now it is true of him.
"A parable of Immortality"
by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads his white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. He is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last he hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, "There, he is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight…that is all. He is just as large in mast and hull and spar as he was when he left my side and just as able to bear his load of living freight to the place of destination. His diminished size is in me, not in him.
And just at that moment when someone at my side says, "There he goes!" there are other eyes, watching him coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here he comes!"
In closing, I offer this beautiful song (below) in memory of my friend Frank. To us, this feels like the end…but we who follow Jesus know it is just the beginning. I know that you are now listening to the music of the angels, Frank...but this song (especially its words) has to come about as close we get in this world.
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