Homily for the Funeral of Sam Buchanan - Luke 15:11-32

All of you who knew and loved Sam will not be surprised to learn that he had planned this service in great detail. Among the many ways we could describe Sam, one is that he had definite opinions. Church matters were no exception. I think we met on at least three different occasions over the years, talking about hymns and readings and who would do each part of the service. That’s how I came to have the honor of serving with his dear friend Andy Jackson this morning, and why we get to hear music that Sam loved very much. I also don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that Sam was clear about the tone he wanted in his funeral - joyful and uplifting, celebrating of a long life well lived. He lived well indeed, and on this day we have much to honor about Sam as we give thanks for his life. 

I know for a fact that he wanted us to remember how blessed he was in his marriage to Frances and in family life. He once shared a reflection he wrote about his life, and included these words. “Fortune smiled on me with a beautiful family - wife, five children - then grandchildren - and now - great grands… Frances taught me so much about sharing with groups that help others. My older children taught me about overcoming, forgiving, and much about love. My two younger children also had lessons for me; one the power and love of adoption; the other, faith, courage, and spirit in the harsh face of serious illness.” His family meant the world to him, and he always placed them at the very top of a long list of blessings he recited whenever the opportunity arose. Of course, he also gave thanks for an interesting career, important leadership opportunities, golf of course, traveling, and the opportunity to give back to communities he loved. Each of these things he did to the fullest. 

Over the years here at Christ Church, I came to see Sam as something of a theological debate partner. He would come prepared with questions about sin and salvation, and I would play the grace card. He was mostly convinced, but his questions were smart and difficult. I always thought that, if given the opportunity, Sam would give St. Paul a run for his money. They shared a particular quality, call it a keen sense of the beauty of the human heart, but also insight into its flaws. It’s the flaws that worried them both. Sam came by it honestly, I think, having spent formative years in a kind of Christian faith that was quick to point out one’s sin and keep the score. Sam had a hard time shaking off that score keeping, sometimes worrying as many of us do about being good enough to earn our way into heaven. Surely God can see through us, the worry goes. Surely God knows my flaws, my sin, my shortcomings, my anger, or fill in the blank with whatever it is that makes you not measure up as a follower of Jesus. These worries can keep one up at night. 

I believe that Paul and Sam eventually arrived at the same conclusion, that our God is a God of grace. No one has ever said it more beautifully than Paul in the letter to the Romans, which we heard a moment ago. “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” In other words, grace overpowers whatever sin score keeping systems or unworthiness we keep insisting on, every time. Grace wins. The end of the story is always love. Nothing can separate us from the God who loves us, the God Sam now sees face to face. Sam knows how the story ends, and all the Gospel signs we have on earth point to a joyful ending. 

I do imagine, however, that Sam came to heaven prepared with one final list of questions and sticking points. Not unlike the prodigal son, who prepared his speech ahead of time, the one in which he would argue his case that his father should take him back as a hired hand after squandering his inheritance. Jesus knew all about speeches like this, the way we try to justify ourselves or disqualify ourselves from heaven’s grace. Notice that in this story, which Sam loved by the way, the father saw the prodigal son coming and ran down the road to meet him. He put his arms around his son and kissed him. He forgave his son and welcomed him home long before the son had a chance to make his carefully prepared speech. I would bet that this is exactly how it goes when we get to heaven, our speeches and rebuttals in hand, and no chance to give them before we are welcomed home unconditionally by the God of open arms. Jesus pointed us to this truth over and over again. It’s the grace card, every time. 

Who knows, maybe Sam and Paul are arguing about the finer points as we speak, much to Sam’s delight. He certainly argued the finer points with all of us in this life, showing us in real time how the grace of God can take root and grow in one man’s life. We give thanks for Sam’s witness to God’s grace today. We give thanks for all of the times he showed us something of the love of Christ, and maybe especially for the times he didn’t even know he was doing it. 

Sam was dearly loved, and he will be missed. A preacher could go on for a while. I don’t think it will come as a surprise, however, that Sam wanted to have the last word over the preacher. Here is what he wanted you all to know, in his own words, on a day he wanted to be joyful and uplifting now that he’s home: “Sam was not a saint, but he was devout. Don’t grieve for him and don’t be somber.” Well said, Sam.