For Amy

I have to take a break from talking about vision to reflect on our time in Virginia honoring the life of our 12 year old friend Amy. Amy is the daughter of my wife's life-long friend Hannah and her husband Mike. For almost a year and a half she has battled brain cancer that ultimately took her life. It has been an emotional roller coaster of praying for healing, of hearing good reports, and then, ultimately watching a beautiful little girl and her family lose the battle to a dreaded disease.

So Julie and I considered it a privilege to join the family for the memorial service at Fourth Presbyterian Church near Washington, DC on Monday. It was an experience that I will not soon forget.

Nine hundred people came to the memorial. It was the largest funeral service at that church in 25 years. Considering that Fourth is the church of choice for many senators, congressmen, and other world leaders, that begs a question, "What made Amy so special?"

I know that I can't possibly explain it all from Dallas, but some things were clear in our three days there. First, Amy was an unusual kid. She had a quality of honesty, coupled with a feisty personality that made a mark wherever she went. In fact, our family has been laughing about Amy and her unique personality almost since she was born. So I know that part of the reason for her impact is simply her personality.

But it's clear that there's more to the story than that. I was also impressed by the communities she lived in. Amy, her four siblings, and her parents are all active. They play sports. They are engaged in many lives. Through their activity, they have clearly touched many lives as fun, but more importantly, good people. It was amazing to see how many different worlds they live in and how the people in those worlds love them.

The church community stands out. The pastors and the people of Fourth were extraordinary in their demonstration of love for this family. At least in this instance, Fourth and its leaders were remarkable in their faithfulness to their calling.

Of course, part of the reason for the response is the universal love of children. I think all societies weep when a child is lost. But Amy's family caused an unusual stir because of a quality that is very rare, but always attractive. I'll call that quality grace. There is a quiet, but powerful grace in that family that I believe touched those who saw it. The whole family, including the sister and three brothers, shared in the daily care for Amy. Love was demonstrated by the constant service and care, especially when Amy neared her death. But it was the quality of the service that was most noticeable. There was a constant joy. You could feel the love for Amy and each other in their tears, as well as their laughter. You were constantly aware that they felt it was a privilege to serve the youngest member of their family. They demonstrated a quality that is so powerful, that even as death approached, you knew that death was not winning, not really.

The grace was rooted in the grace they knew and experienced in Jesus. Amy's family believe that Jesus' life, death, and resurrection makes available God's grace to them. They know what it is to be loved when you cannot possibly adequately return that love. In God's grace they knew the purity of love that serves, and they, in turn, passed that love to Amy. And that grace gives them the security of hope. While the sadness is at times overwhelming, there is a hope in that family rooted in the belief that Amy's existence did not end, but that she is now in the presence of her God and her savior.

Most of us will, gratefully, never have the test that Amy's family faced. And consequently, we will never have such a dramatic opportunity to demonstrate what God's grace has done for us and how it can change the world around us. But Amy's family shows the absolute power of grace.

How do we demonstrate grace in the smaller tests and opportunities that we face?