Hearing his voice again

In the near future, I'm going to hear Kyle's voice again. I recently ordered his last book, (RE)UNDERSTANDING PRAYER. It's sitting on my desk beside me now and has moved to the top of my reading list. I know the book will be filled with the insight and practical wisdom that came so easily to Kyle. I know it will be written in Kyle's conversational style that will make reading it feel like a conversation with him over lunch or coffee. I know I'll read something in the book and remember when he was just beginning to wrestle with these ideas in our conversations and in his sermons.

And that's the problem, reading this book will remind me that my friend is dead. I know he's gone, but I still want to refer to him in the present tense. When I began this post I instinctively wrote, "I recently ordered his "latest" book," and then realized I needed to write, "I recently odered his "last" book." And I felt that knot in my throat come back again. I was lucky enough during my time at UBC to call Kyle a friend. I could also call him mentor and pastor. He offered a lot of guidance as I took the first steps of the path I'm still on today. We worked at the church together. We goofed off at the church together. He and his wife Jen welcomed me into their home for food and conversation. We shared countless lunches and watched the 2002 World Cup together at the ungodly hours you had to get up to watch the games live. I'd hear a part of his sermon and realize that he was stealing some of my ideas from a recent conversation, but somehow I felt flattered that he did it just the same. All of these memories come rushing back to me and all I can say is thank you to the Creator in whom we live, move and have our being. But at the same time, when Kyle took me to lunch for the last time two and a half years ago as I wrapped up my time in Waco before the move to Atlanta, I never imagined that would be the last meal we would share. I never imagined that moment would be the last time we'd see each other face to face. I never imagined that that would be the last time I would hear his easy laughter. And that knot in my throat comes back again.

So I'll read his book, hear his voice and cry a few more times over the loss of my friend. But amidst the tears I will say thank you. Thank you to Kyle and to Jesus, the Jesus that Kyle seemed to follow so effortlessly. The Jesus that Kyle was constantly inviting everyone to follow. The Jesus that gives life in the midst of death. The Jesus that defeated death for all of us.