Roy Exum
It was well over an hour before the largest funeral in the history of the Hixson United Methodist Church would begin and the sanctuary was already half full. I was talking quietly with Rev. Anthony Taylor and he told me what I needed to know: “The healing process doesn’t stop here – it begins here. Healing is a process and you have to allow it to take place,” he said.
I replied that I had never been as proud of the way Chattanooga has responded in the past week since Marine Staff Sergeant David Wyatt was killed in a terrorist attack, along with four other service members at our Marine recruiting center.
On Friday literally thousands gathered at the church, both inside and out, and set up along the processional route to pay their respects as the hearse rolled towards the National Military Cemetery. “This could be the spark that lights a mighty fire of unity and love,” Rev. Taylor noted.
“There is no question that this tragedy has united Chattanooga. At our church we had a memorial service and people openly wept for five soldiers they had never met," the pastor said, and I asked why do we grieve so horribly at such a tragedy. “I think it is because we are all members of the human race and have great empathy for one another.”
As we were talking, Dale Wyrick, the senior pastor of Signal Crest United Methodist Church, took a seat directly behind us and soon was pulled into the conversation. “I believe our grief is magnified because the tragedy happened right here, where we live with one another,” Pastor Wyrick offered. “We have been confronted with an event we have never known before so all of us are grieving with one another. I believe we will share the strength that comes from this in due time.”
Rev. Taylor said in his personal devotion the night before, he was drawn to John 15:13 where Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Then he said, “That’s something we can feel right now.”
The Signal Mountain. pastor nodded. “There is great comfort to be found in the Scriptures. With something like this,” he paused to watch a handful of Marines arrive at the church, “I think of Romans 8:28: ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ We mourn for the Marine Corps."
Rev. Thomas agreed, “If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be sitting here in worship. We sleep at night because of them. They are a warm and comforting blanket. When a Marine, or anybody else dies needlessly, it has a profound effect on all of us. But a terrorist attack? Here? The reality of this hits us in the face.”
The two holy men chatted quietly for a moment before Rev. Wyrick offered this: “I believe in the resurrection. I really do and I think in all death there is the resurrection. Because of that, death is just a door way. I have no idea what heaven will be like but I am assured it will be beyond anything we can imagine.”
Several pews ahead sat Jim Coppinger, the county mayor, and many forget that he confronted sorrow a grief in the eight years he was a fire chief. I don’t believe anyone can get used to grief. If we were unable to work through it, void of prayer and fellowship and one another, it would be unbearable, I believe.
“I was thinking during these last seven or eight days why this attack seems worse to me than 9/11 did,” Coppinger said, and that puzzled me until the answer became obvious – because it happened here. We should never become so calloused that we are immune to any devastation, like the attack in the Louisiana theater last night – but when it happens where we work, worship, and live – it is an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“This has been a trying week for all of us,” he said and I relayed Rev. Wyrick’s belief that after the grieving, which Rev. Taylor believes is a process we must bear, our community will share the strength that will ultimately come from it. “That’s so true. I’ve seen sadness and sorrow in the fire department, but people seem to overcome it be relying on each other. That’s the strength of any tragedy.”
Nothing can ever bring Staff Sgt. David Allen Wyatt back from last week’s attack, but because I talked to two holy men yesterday, I am convinced that, in time, we will use one of the worst days in our city’s history for the ultimate good. I believe we can build unity and love from it. That is the gift four Marines and a sailor can leave to us in perpetuity.
And lest you don’t believe such a thing can happen, allow me to add Rev. Anthony Taylor is black and Rev. Dale Wyrick is white. What a beautful conversation, as well as a great statement, about the human race.
royexum@aol.com