It didn't take long for Eddie and I to empty out the trunk of the destroyed Mustang. There was a set of racing gears, a set of brake pads, a Hurst speed shifter, a car jack and some tools. The Mustang belonged to our brother-in-law, Jeremy Clemmons. Eddie and I had married sisters 23 years ago. The sisters had two little brothers, one was Jeremy. Jeremy was plagued by epileptic seizures, and it was a seizure that caused him to slam into the back of a school bus, killing him instantly.
We had been gathering the small collections of his belongings that had been scattered across his various haunts in the city. There was a suitcase at his mother’s apartment, a duffle bag at the Mission, a box of trinkets from somewhere. We added the contents of the trunk to the small pile in Eddie's garage. It didn't amount to much at all. It didn't seem like much to be the congregation of 29 years of life.
Jeremy was a guy whose circumstances always seemed to run him to ground. The youngest son in the family of four. His father died when he was 10. He began to suffer from seizures when he was a teenager. He had a hard time holding down jobs. The doctors found he had a brain tumor a few years ago. The surgery left a long scar across his head. The passion of his life was fast cars. He could build a simple stock Mustang into a growling street machine, yet his seizures meant he couldn't, or at least shouldn’t, drive the machines he built. This war raged within him and he struggled to reconcile the two opposing sides. His last breath was taken in trying to make his affliction and his passion coexist.
I stood looking at the pile of stuff, contemplating the life and the man that was Jeremy for a little too long probably. I began to pity the man for life he had lived and the decisions he had made. Shame on me.
Inside the house the black cloud of the accident was beginning to lift. The funeral had been two days ago and we are all working through our grief. As part of the grieving, we had put together a board with photos of Jeremy for the funeral. I say "we" loosely, in that my only contribution was commenting on the propriety of one of the pictures. It was this picture that came to mind as the pity and shame fought for the front seat of my brain.
The picture was a head and shoulders shot from what might have been high school. It has the typical blue background and white frame that comes with the classic school photo shoot. Jeremy is making a goofy face.
This silly photo brought to mind Jeremy's odd sense of humor that seemed to float along with his easy manner. It reminded me of his ability to talk with anybody, anywhere, Jeremy never met a stranger. His thick Texas drawl combined with his broad grin to disarm and welcome. I was reminded of his willingness to give pretty much anything he had to anyone. And his faith and belief in the redeeming power of Jesus Christ, which was always on the tip of his tongue.
I concluded that Jeremy wasn't a perfect man (who is?), but he was a Believer in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I realized that his life, or any life for that matter, cannot be defined by circumstances or stuff. His life is defined by who he was as a person, which, like the rest of us, is a dim reflection of who we are in Christ. The pile of belongings he left behind and the circumstances in which he lived and died are irrelevant when all is said and done. If only the rest of us could learn to live with this in mind, how much better would this fleeting wisp of a life be?
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| Jeremy David Clemmons Oct. 19, 1981 - May 18, 2011 |
So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. 1 Corinthians 15:42-43
Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:51-58
ps. Jeremy is now free but will be sorely missed. I can't say for sure if there will be cars in Heaven, but I can imagine his mansion has a garage with a car lift, a decent set of gear pullers, a set of non-knuckle-busting wrenches, and an '94 Mustang GT convertible for him to work on. I just hope he doesn't get into trouble for trying to lay down rubber on the streets of gold because I want a ride when I get there.
