“The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what he had done.” – Revelation 20:13
A few years ago, I woke up at 6am and stumbled around in the dark trying to get dressed and not wake up my wife. Sleep for the mother of a small child is precious and it can be incredibly dangerous to wake them up. (Last week, I tripped and nudged the bed. I woke up three hours later in the woods outside the city strapped to a tree.) I grabbed the first t-shirt I could find and slipped it on over my head. It was a memorial t-shirt for my friend Aaron Marrs.
[pullquote type=”left”]There’s something mysterious and spiritual about printing someone’s name on 100% cotton that says, ‘We won’t forget you.'[/pullquote]In my old neighborhood, when people died, their friends and family would make t-shirts at Walmart with their name and picture on it. Among my friends, we do lettering design and quotes printed on black t-shirts. There’s something mysterious and spiritual about printing someone’s name on 100% cotton that says, “We won’t forget you.”I was 15 the first time I met Aaron. Both of our bands were asked to be opening acts for a concert taking place in a movie theater where a church met. We were both lead singers who enjoyed being the center of attention. We both liked gimmicks. Mine was convincing our drummer to stage dive during a song (which creates some obvious musical dilemmas to lose your drummer during the middle of a song you’re performing). His was convincing his band to open their set with the theme song from “Jesus Christ Superstar” as he made his way onto the stage. During the headlining act, we were both asked to come up and sing a rock version of the number song from Sesame Street. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 6, 7, 8, 9, 10… 11! 12!” It was all very ridiculous, juvenile and awesome. Naturally, we became friends.
[pullquote type=”right”]He would laugh in such a way that the offender was both reprimanded and forgiven in one breath.[/pullquote]Aaron was a large guy with a large personality. People constantly told him that he reminded them of Chris Farley. He would say, “Oh great! Thanks! … for reminding me that I’m fat.” But then he would laugh in such a way that the offender was both reprimanded and forgiven in one breath. Aaron had a way of making everyone around him feel like he was among your closest friends – that you belonged – that standing where you were, having the conversation you were having, laughing together was the place you were meant to be. Coming into Aaron’s presence was to embrace the moment known as NOW and the place known as HERE more than anyone I have ever met.My first day of college I ran into Aaron in the hallway. After comparing schedules and seeing that we didn’t have any classes together, he looked at me and said,
“You know what? We need to go to lunch right now.”
“I have class,” I said.
“So?”
“So?! It’s the first day of school!”
He laughed and shrugged his shoulders and said, “And…?”
He dropped out of school two weeks later.
[pullquote type=”left”]He didn’t like it when he felt like his friends were settling for less than the best.[/pullquote]Aaron was the pioneer of what was often referred to as the “official uniform” of my church community – black t-shirt and jeans. He was a rock star – from his fashion to his creative work to his global adventures to his unbridled (and sometimes erratic) emotions. He was known equally for his strong opinions, relentless humor and very real journey of faith. He deeply believed Jesus was who he said he was, but Aaron was honest about the fact that praying to a God we never see sometimes seemed a bit… “insane”. But it was an insanity that lead to a resonate love of God and people. And he didn’t like it when he felt like his friends were settling for less than the best.
[pullquote type=”right”]Aaron began singing into the microphone like a soft-spoken, whiny child, staring at the ground and shuffling his feet nervously. He wanted to prove a point. [/pullquote]In one of his more obstinate moments, Aaron was leading worship for a very young church in which he wanted to prove a point. The lyrics to the song said, “Shout to the Lord! All the Earth, let us sing!” However, in contrast to the lyrics themselves, this popular song is usually sung in low voices at a respectable volume in a flat dialect. This displeased Aaron. To demonstrate the disconnect between the spiritual truth we were singing and the way in which we did it, Aaron began singing into the microphone like a soft-spoken, whiny child, staring at the ground and shuffling his feet nervously. This proceeded for 60 long seconds where the congregation stared in confusion and awkwardly shuffled in our seats.Suddenly, Aaron screamed, “1,2,3,4!” and the band released an explosion of distortion and drums into the room. Aaron began belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs – “SHOUT TO THE LORD!” I’m not sure everyone got the message. But I did. I loved it. And I loved him more because he was crazy enough to disturb our rituals and etiquette to prove a bigger point. He wanted his friends to understand what it meant to abandon and fully entrust ourselves to God RIGHT NOW.
[pullquote type=”left”]He wanted his friends to understand what it meant to abandon and fully entrust ourselves to God RIGHT NOW.[/pullquote]Aaron continued playing and singing in bands and worked a variety of interesting odd jobs over the years – many in the graphic design field. He was eventually asked to work for a record label in Nashville where he designed dozens of albums and hordes of merchandise. He appeared in a few music videos as an extra and, in keeping with his love for attention and wild schemes, he even found a way to convince a popular band to put HIS picture on the front of their album instead of their own.After he left the music industry, he co-founded a documentary film company. For his first film, Aaron traveled with a few friends to the island of Kodiak, Alaska to film a documentary about the dangerous profession of deep-sea crab fishing. Over the course of several weeks, he shot hundreds of hours of footage and had pieced together a narrative that had fascinating characters, conflict, beautiful scenery and mystery.
With his filming complete, Aaron returned to Louisville where he quickly announced that he planned to return to Alaska to work as a crab fisherman himself. As it turns out, it paid well and he could finance a large portion of the film’s budget by doing the very trade he was documenting.
[pullquote type=”right”]As he always seemed to, he had found a way to pursue his dreams without the need for the beaten path.[/pullquote]He never went to school for music but released two albums. He never went to school for graphic design but became a professional designer. He never went to school for filmography but became a filmmaker. And now, he had his eyes set on exploring the open sea. As he always seemed to, he had found a way to pursue his dreams without the need for the beaten path.The night before he left for Alaska, we went to the movie theater and to see The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou – a movie where Bill Murray seeks to avenge his friend’s death at sea. This was the last time I saw Aaron.
Less than a week later, I was standing in a coffee shop talking with friends after a concert when someone walked up to the microphone and asked for everyone’s attention. They announced that a phone call had just come in stating that Aaron’s boat had capsized. So far, they had only found one survivor.
[pullquote type=”left”]They announced that a phone call had just come in stating that Aaron’s boat had capsized. So far, they had only found one survivor.[/pullquote]The next day, we sat suspended in time, waiting. We did not receiving any additional news. We gathered that evening to pray. We prayed for Aaron to have washed up on a shore somewhere. We had visions of our phones ringing, his laughter on the other end of the line as he said, “Man, I have a crazy story to tell you!”As it is when people die, none of us really believed it. We all thought everything would be okay.
[pullquote type=”right”]The news piece about Aaron ended and a terrible feeling entered my heart: finality.[/pullquote]The next afternoon, they called off the search. I sat on my bed watching the evening news. Aaron was the top story. They showed his picture. He had grown a big beard and shaved his head bald. The boat that now rested at the bottom of the Bering Sea was still afloat in the background. He looked tough and weather worn – no longer the slick rock star from years before. The news piece about Aaron ended and a terrible feeling entered my heart: finality.He was gone.
I began sobbing. We wife pulled me close and stroked my hair. Heartache poured out of my lungs. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I said his name over and over again. My face contorted into those ugly, terrible faces people make when they cry. The shocking truth pounded in my ears. My friend was gone.
A few days later, we had a memorial service. Like all funerals, it felt both sorrowful and exciting. It’s like a giant, weird family reunion where you get to see people you haven’t seen in years.
When Aaron’s mom died a few years earlier, in his grief, he had written a song for her. Now, one of our friends sang it for him.
Sunrise Sunday
Sunrise and we gave you away
Time stood so still
The angels held the hand of the most beautiful you
And gave you softly to Jesus
I looked around at the 900 people gathered in the 500 seat church and thought, “What an audience. You probably struck some kind of scheme with God to get all of us into the same room.”
[pullquote type=”left”]I imagine one day he’ll tell us the story of his death with a smile on his face and his eyes getting big as he waves his hands around, getting louder and more animated until an explosion of laughter occurs.[/pullquote]I like to think about the day I will see Aaron again. I am eager to hear Aaron tell the story of his passing from this life to the next. I imagine a group of us standing around as he talks about the boat swaying and water rushing in. But I imagine it told with a smile on his face and his eyes getting big as he waves his hands around, getting louder and more animated until an explosion of laughter occurs. The powerful blow of physical death is lessened by spiritual hope. [pullquote type=”right”]At his funeral, the most common words shared were, “Aaron made me feel like one of his best friends.”[/pullquote]Because Aaron’s body was never found, there was no casket. As we left the memorial service, a friend commented, “No casket. You know, this makes sense. He never fit well in boxes anyway. This suits him better.”I encourage people all the time to “just show up”. I think all the good stuff happens in life when we make the decision to bring all of ourselves into a place, a moment, a relationship. Aaron taught me a lot about showing up. At his funeral, the most common words shared were, “Aaron made me feel like one of his best friends.” I heard it dozens of times. That’s what can happen when we show up. We can make other people feel loved and heard and celebrated. We can make everyone feel like they have a great friend who would storm the gates of Hell with us. We can help people catch glimpses of Jesus’ presence. I hope I can learn to show up like Aaron did.
[starbox id=jesse]
