A Personal Eulogy to Jason Mitchener

My friend, Jason Mitchener, died last night at 10:55pm on December 16, 2009. He was 39 years old. I had the privilege of knowing him for the past 9 years.

I met Jason in church, back in 2001, at Crossroads Christian Fellowship. Our paths crossed reasonably often in the midst of church activities, but I’d say I never really got to know him in the way I’ve known him since three years ago, beginning in 2006.

In that year, something happened in our friendship that was different than before. We decided to read a book together so that when we we’d hang out weekly (or every-other week-or-two) we’d have something to talk about. Those book discussions were a turning point in our friendship. I think we read “Killing the Giants” by Max Lucado first. It was rather simple—read a chapter or two, then meet and discuss the reading. It didn’t seem like a huge progress in our friendship each time we met for our book discussions, but I could tell that over-time there was a difference in our friendship that hadn’t been there before. One huge difference, I believe, is that we stopped trying analyze life so much and began listening to each other. I think this listening to each other and being attentive to each other’s personhood is what did the trick. Once we started listening to each other’s hearts, I believe this was each other’s way of telling the other that he was good enough. As men, we often fear not being good enough in this life, not measuring up. When we find another man or men in whom we know that we are good enough, then trust begins to develop. Jason was one of those people for me, and I think I to him. Jason was one of my very good friends. He was part of an important group of men in my life who I trust with who I really am.

Jason Mitchener also accomplished many things in his life that were quite amazing. He wrote a book. He wrote lyrics for a CD and lyrics for another band. He put together lots of neat pieces of digital art on his computer that many of us now own. He moderated portions of the “Third Day Message Board” and ministered to those in their discussion groups. He gathered 24,000+ followers on Twitter. He wrote devotionals that have impacted people via email and blog entries now for almost two decades. He did all of this in the midst of living with a rare, neuromuscular disease which prevented him from moving his arms and legs, or even breathing on his own. He needed a ventilator for his every breath. In fact, Jason accomplished all of these things with a computer and a stick in his mouth to type with. These accomplishments, however, were only symptoms of Jason’s personhood.

Yes, Jason’s accomplishments are numerous and quite remarkable. But, there is something deeper about Jason that was far more important than these things—it was Jason himself. Jason was a stubborn, funny, selfish, self-less, intelligent, witty, humorous, tired, sometimes half-hearted, often determined, energetic, man full of hope and despair, all wrapped up into one human being who accomplished many things. The many things he accomplished came from a normal human being with joys and sorrow who had the God of the universe living inside of him.

Jason was the first to admit that in the midst of writing his devotionals, positive messages through Twitter, and so forth, that he was a normal guy who sometimes had a hard time getting motivated to wake up for the day. At other times, he was full of dreams, vision, and energy that was amazing to watch. He and I both agreed that with the development of Twitter as a new technology, that he had found his niche and was coming into a new season in his ability to express himself creatively to the world.

The fact that he was a normal human being in an extraordinary situation was part of his heroicism. I think what I was most attracted to in my friend was his willingness to risk his exposure as being seen for who he really was. He and I took a chance, took off our masks, and dared to share our hurts, failures, dreams, successes, accomplishments, sin, and fears with each other. We practiced listening to each other. We were learning to trust each other. That’s the Jason Mitchener I knew and loved. Yes, I am thankful for Jason’s accomplishments, but only because they brought him to the world.

I end with a portion from one of Jason’s devotionals called Not Long for This Earth.

“Embrace what God has given you here [in this life]. Look with a child’s eyes of wonder at the clear blue sky and the hiss of green. Breath deep the fragrance of a rose or a baby’s hair. Listen to the music of a bird’s morning song or the rustling of leaves in the wind. Feel the warmth of the afternoon sun or the coolness of an evening breeze. Taste the sweetness of a succulent orange or the sourness of a lemon. Love those around you with a fervency that cannot be quenched.”

“While enjoying your journey here, remind yourself that something greater lies ahead. The joys of this earth pale in comparison to the glories of heaven. In heaven, it will be as if our eyes are finally opened and our ears can finally hear. Our weak, frail bodies will be replaced with bodies that will never perish. We will be in the sweet presence of a loving God. No pain or sorrow will ever tear our hearts.”

“Live life to the full because we are not long for this earth. An eternity awaits us in heaven.”

Jason Mitchener. You stubborn, funny, lovable friend! Holy smokes, you're there. I will miss you and grieve my loss, but I will not feel sorry for you. I'm glad we had our time together. Thanks for being a part of my life.