“My brother may not always be at my side, but he is always in my heart.” (Anonymous)
“My Tribute to Jim”
Given by A.J. Farley
Tuesday, March 3,
1992
Funeral of James M.
Kinker
My friend, Jim Kinker, died a few days ago
[of a seizure]. After the initial shock of the news died down, [I’ve] had some
time to think about what his life meant to us.
Jim never lived his life to be seen.
He didn’t go out of his way to draw attention to himself (except when
choosing a different car). He never sought the limelight yet his life had a
unique influence upon each one of our lives. We are different people for having
known Jim. We are better people.
Whenever someone dies unexpectedly, we have
the tendency to do two things. First, we think of the person who’s gone as some
sort of perfect ideal person. One who never said a cross word to anyone, paid
his bills on time, voted Republican, and kept a spotless home. We all know that
Jim wasn’t that man. He marched to his own drum his whole life. He wanted you
to like him, but if you didn’t that was your problem (not his).
Our other tendency is to mourn in a rather
selfish way. We think “How could he leave me this way?” We think mollre about
our own loss than our friend who is gone. I think this is easy to adopt in this
case because in many ways Jim was on the periphery of our lives. He was a very
selfless person. His personality didn’t demand us to attend to him. He could
take care of himself. He was available
to help us if we needed help, but he wasn’t always the first one we thought of.
Jim had the greatest mannerisms in the world.
He could make a simple comment, and it would be funny. You could count on him
to do the most mundane thing in a unique way. It’s difficult to describe, but
Jim could adjust his glasses in a way that no one else could.
When [his brother, Robert,] asked me to do
this, I wondered whether I was really qualified to speak on Jim’s life. Surely,
there are others him better than I did. Surely, someone who grew up with him
would be better suited to say a collective good-bye for us. I still don’t feel
qualified. How can anyone adequately sum up a man’s life, short-lived though it
was, in a few minutes? It can’t be done.
It shouldn’t be done.
We live our lives as though we are afraid of
the future. Disease, illness, calamity, disaster wait just around the corner
for us; we’re sure of it. I don’t think Jim lived that way. There was something
good waiting down the road (if he could just hold on to the wheel). Jim had more than his of life’s pain, but he
lived with the realization that his life was in God’s hands. He wasn’t passive
about his life like many of us are. He did the things that were important to
him. He actively sought as much control over his life as he could.
So how (now) to say good-bye; Jim has already
seen his dad. He’s met his Lord,
personally, finally. He’s probably still
learning his way around the streets of gold, and [is] confused by all the
cleanliness. He’s free now from the constraints people place upon themselves.
He doesn’t know pain or suffering anymore. I know I’ll see him again. Our sure hope as believers in Christ is that
one we will all be raised from the dead.
We have to wait a little while (just the blink of an eye), and we’ll be
reunited.
The Lord's unfailing love and mercy still continue [as] fresh as the morning as sure as the
sunrise. (Lamentations 3:22-23, GNT)
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