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In Memory of Jay “Bigfoot” Shatzer
December 30, 2005
The Rev. Michelle “Mike” Burcher

We gather today to remember and celebrate the life of Jay Shatzer, son, brother, friend.  Let us go to God in prayer:

Eternal God,
Your love for us is everlasting;
You alone can turn the shadow of death into the brightness of morning light.
Help us to turn to you with believing hearts.
In the stillness of this hour,
in the beauty of this holy place,
speak to us of eternal things,
so that hearing your promises we may have hope
and be lifted above our darkness and distress
into the light and peace of your presence,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.

From the Paul's letter to the Romans, chapter 8, verses 38-39:
For I am convinced that neither death nor life,
neither angels nor demons,
neither the present nor the future,
neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (NIV)

It was pleasure and amusement in the summer of 1997 to watch this tall and gangly young man begin to find himself.  It’s hard to think of Jay ever as being “shy,” but he would hang out on the fringes of camp life at first, figuring out if and how he fit in. 

And it was on those fringes, I think, that at the very outset, he discerned his first and best gifts in camping ministry–reaching out to people on the fringes.  People who didn’t fit.  At well over 6 feet tall and still growing, I think, Jay didn’t “fit” a lot of places.  In his young life he had already experienced a lot of hard knocks.  He was easily labeled a “geek” or a “freak,” he was the sort of kid you might find alone in the lunch room, he didn’t have a lot of friends. 

And then he came to camp.  I don’t think this is unique to Makemie Woods, camping ministry has way of helping people understand the wonders of God’s love in such a way that they begin to realize that in God’s eyes they do fit, they do have meaning, they do have something to offer.  And Jay discovered he had something to offer, esp. to kids like himself.   And so, to a generation of campers he became, “Bigfoot.”

Jay loved to canoe, he loved goofy games and intellectual games like chess, he loved to hike and backpack.  He loved to sing, especially off-key, and do skits and play with rubber chickens. He had a gift for the details, of planning and following though with any responsibility.

But more than doing these things, he loved to teach them.  He loved to help kids learn to canoe, to initiate them into the skills of the boat-over-boat rescue, to take them down the river, and he loved that one of the paddling strokes is called a “J” stroke.   He took his skills to Virginia Tech and used with them with a program called Venture Out.  He enjoyed helping people challenge themselves on ropes courses and overcome their fears.   He was patient and kind with even the most challenging of kids, and he would listen often when no one else would.

Jay loved to take his friends to high places on trails with amazing views, he loved to sit with kids on the water at night, and show them the stars.  “Look at the light,” he would say, “not the darkness.”  And he would read Psalm 8.

Jay’s personal expression of faith was quiet, his expression at camp was LOUD.  When we recited Bible verses at camp, his voice was heard over all others: Trust in the Lord with all your heart...
So then...

For Jay, the evidence of God’s love was found in creation.  He spent as much time as he could outside.  And even though he has always been extremely gifted in computer science, he knew he could not, and would not spend his life in a cubicle.  He loved to beat the machines, and fix other people’s machines, and help camps develop computer programs to make their operations better.  But his deep desire was to serve out in God’s creation.  I think his time at Camp Bethel helped him decide he really wanted to do camp ministry as a career.  I saw Jay at a camp professionals conference after he had been at Bethel for awhile, and I was so impressed with how he had matured, and how his leadership skills had developed.  Slowly, God was preparing him for ministry.

And if all this is true, why are here today?

Perhaps, like me, you are still struggling with the reality of it all, with this empty boat, his favorite, with this dining hall that will never again hear Jay yell “Check other tables for food,” remembering the big feet that always prayed for “little feets.”

Perhaps, like me, you are angry–angry at Jay for making this irrevocable decision, angry at God for not intervening, angry at yourself for something you said or didn’t say, something you did or didn’t do.

Perhaps, like me, you are confused.  Confused as to why a young man, so gifted in many ways, giving and selfless in so many ways, would make, could make this tragic decision, choose this permanent solution, to a temporary problem.  How could he do this thing, especially in the face of the news that he had been offered a position by a camp that wanted to give him the chance to prove himself he so desired?

We will never know the answers to these last questions.  Many of you know Jay suffered with clinical depression, at times quite acute.  He had seriously considered and attempted suicide before.  Even knowing that God loved him, that we loved him he continued to struggle with relationships, struggle with self-worth.   I know that I am not the only one in this room that Jay reached out to over the years when he felt desperate and on the edge.

There is no sin, no shame in despair.  Faithful people have cried out to God in despair and God hears those cries, all of them.  The Bible records those words, those stories, and for us they are reminder that we are not alone when we despair.  Even Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jay had a particularly difficult time this past Fall, with unsuccessful job searches, and an unsuccessful job, that left him very frustrated and disheartened.  Yet he was getting a plan together, had a job at Va Tech, and received this good news about a camp in Oregon that wanted to offer him an internship.

We will not know what was in Jay’s mind on Monday.  We do know that people who take their own lives are often completely unable to see any other choice, and feel utterly desperate and hopeless.  There are signs that Jay may not have been taking the medication for his depression, medication that might have kept enough chemical balance for him to see other options.  In speaking to those who were with him in his last few days, there was a very sudden change in his mood and behavior, and this was very uncharacteristic of the Jay we know and love.  His brother Ed has characterized Jay’s depression this way, as “a terminal disease, a disease which finally took his life.”

What we do know is that Jay made a decision. A bad decision.  He didn’t ask for our help, or our opinion.  He methodically carried out this decision in such a way that it could not be interpreted as a cry for help.  For reasons we do not understand, Jay wanted this to be the end of his earthly life, no turning back. 

Our sovereign God is a God of choice.  Even when it breaks God’s heart, God allows us to make our own decisions, hoping that we will make choices that bring God glory.  It was Jay’s decision to make, and no one in this room can or should accept the responsibility for his choice.  We cannot control or change another person’s decisions.  Jay’s decision was not God’s desire for him. This example is not to be followed.  And in our suffering with Jay, for Jay, God suffers with us. 
                                                
Our sovereign God is one of infinite, unfathomable unconditional love and grace.  Absolutely nothing can separate us from the love God in Christ Jesus.  Not even our bad choices, not even the demonic depression.  I believe Jay is finally at rest, finally at peace, not because of what he did, but because of God’s love for him, because of God’s faithfulness to him.  Nothing can separate Jay from God’s love in Jesus Christ.  Nothing can separate us from that love.

“Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.”  We need to forgive Jay.  Forgive him for hurting us by taking his God given gifts from us, for depriving his father and mother of their loving son, for leaving Ed without his big brother, for ending his mission and ministry before it was finished.

And much, much harder than that we need to forgive ourselves.  We need to release ourselves from the “If onlys...” we think might we have done that maybe would have changed his mind, if we had known.  We need to forgive ourselves, for the things we said or didn’t say, the things we did or didn’t do, and learn. [pause] Receive and embrace God’s forgiveness and grace.

Jay has taken his physical life, but he cannot take the life that is Jay that lives on in us.  He cannot take the seeds God has used him to plant in hundreds of campers that will continue to bear fruit into the next generations.  He cannot take the skills he has already bequested to others, he cannot render meaningless the words of friendship he has spoken. This is his legacy.

Particularly meaningful to Jay was a song that I sing at the campfire, about how God uses us even in our brokenness, and how our worth comes from God, not from what others think about us. For many years Jay took it upon himself to play the role of the auctioneer.  The campers call it “The violin song.”  It’s real name is “Touch of the Master’s Hand.”

Well it was battered an scarred and the auctioneer thought
    it was hardly worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
    but he held it up with a smile.
“It sure ain’t much but it’s all we got left,
    I guess we oughta sell it too.
Now who will start the bid on this old violin,
    just one more and we’ll be through.”

“One give me one dollar, who’ll make it two,
    only two dollars, who’ll make it three?
Three dollars twice, now that’s a good price,
    say who’s got a bid for me?
Raise your hand and don’t wait any longer,
    the auction’s about to end.
Who’s got four, just one dollar more,
    to bid on this old violin?”

Well, the air was hot and the people stood around,
    and the sun was getting low.
When from the back of the crowd, a grey-haired man
    walked forward, and picked up the bow.
He wiped the dust from the old violin,
    he tightened up the strings.
And then he played out a melody cool and sweet,
    sweet as the angels sing.

And then the music stopped.
And the auctioneer, in a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, “Who will start the bid on this old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.

And then he cried out,
“One give me one thousand, who’ll make it two,
    only two thousand, who’ll make it three?
Three thousand twice, now that’s a good price,
    say who’s got a bid for me?       
The people called out, “What made the change?
    We don’t understand.”
Then the auctioneer stopped, and he said with a smile,
    “It was the touch of the Master’s hand.”

Now you know many a man with his life out of tune
    is battered and scarred with sin.
And he’s auctioned cheap to a thankless world,
    much like the old violin.
Then the Master comes, and the foolish crowd,
    they never understand
The worth of soul or the change that is wrought
    just by the touch of the Master’s hand.



Everlasting God,
look in mercy on those who remember Jay before you.
Let not the manner of his death
cloud the wonderful memories of his life.
For Jay the trials of this world are over
and death is past.
Accept from us all that we feel
even when words fail;
deliver us from despair
and give us strength to meet the days to come.

God our strength and our redeemer:
you do not leave us in this life
nor abandon us in death.
Hear our prayer for those in despair,
when days are full of darkness
and the future empty of hope.
Renew in them your sustaining strength
for we believe that there is nothing in all creation
that can separate us from your love
in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not alone.
God is with us.
Allelulia!