"Marty"

There's a sweet man from our church named Marty. Marty isn't your typical "churched" Christian. He doesn't wear a suit...or any formal attire, for that matter. On his head is always a bandanna; tattoos adorn his body. If you ask him, he'll proudly tell you his roots are planted in New Jersey. And his mouth....oh, his language would make a sailor cry. (I believe he's made me blush a time or two in front of my children.) He reminds me a bit of a rough and tough Harley Davidson fella. (No doubt at sometime in his life he was.) Marty is who Marty is. No apologies and no excuses.
Three years ago Marty accepted Christ into his life and has been coming to church faithfully ever since. And growing. The outer Marty has stayed very true to nature...he hasn't changed a bit. But the inward Marty has seen significant growth. A hunger. A desire for more of God. A thirst for being around God's family of people. Just a week and a half ago he and I were sitting and chatting about the many things of life. About homeschooling (he was oh so curious; he had eight kids and didn't know "how the *#!=" I did it), about parenting and his family. He showed me pictures of his brand-new 4 pound granddaughter in Jersey that he hasn't met yet. And then I told him we'd be praying for him while he was in surgery the next week. You see, Marty's body is paying the price for years of abuse. His heart is bad, his lungs are failing. And he was looking forward to getting his knee replaced. The ONE thing he wanted to do again, he informed me, was dance. Marty LOVES to dance. He assured me that he was quite good. So good, in fact, that he could hip-hop with the best of "the brothers" (his words, not mine). I was quite amused to learn this. I just couldn't picture Marty breaking it down...but I looked forward to seeing some of these mad skills of his. And so, Marty went in for his surgery. He told me he was nervous, but looking forward to the outcome.
Marty never came back. The last time I saw Marty was in the hospital last Thursday. They had just extubated him after a long week of giving his body a desperately needed rest. Post surgery didn't go quite as planned. I walked in his ICU room and his eyes met mine. Marty didn't look like Marty...except in his eyes. I knew that medications were masking his ability to recognize me. He was delirious and demanding. Confused and crying out, "help me! Help me!" It was a hard thing to watch. But I stared into his eyes, took his hand and smiled...hoping that perhaps in some small way that would bring him comfort. I didn't stay long. I didn't know what to say or what to do. The nurse informed me that he was making improvements. However, early this morning Marty was welcomed into heaven. His time on earth was simply done.
Church this morning was very somber. Most had not heard the news yet. Marty was a well-liked man within our church and within our community. Many hearts were grieving. Yet also rejoicing. And I couldn't help but picture the sweet dance moves that Marty was finally making. THAT. VERY. MOMENT. Without his cane, without his lungs straining. Without his heart beating erratically, without pain. THIS. VERY. MOMENT.
Marty may not know it, but his life and testimony spoke loud and clear to many. Because of his life and death, a woman close to his family accepted Christ today. And because of his life, I am encouraged. To be a little more...me. A little more transparent with who I am, with what I struggle with. A little more gracious to others; a lot less judgemental about their walk with Christ. In the end, it matters not what we look like, dress like, talk like or act like. It's all about where our hearts are at.
Life the only way we know it continues for those of us left here on earth. The ups, the downs. It truly is so very short in comparison to eternity...yet we still struggle looking past the minor problems of every day. Meanwhile, millions of souls no longer seen dance.
I hope Marty's busting a move.