Jeremiah 1:4-10; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Good morning. This has been a challenging week for me. On Tuesday night I learned that one of my childhood friends committed suicide. His name was Burr Harper and I can’t even remember when I met him. It might have been first grade, it might have been second. I wouldn’t say we were close, but I don’t remember not knowing him. He was a nice kid and he was well liked. He came from a working-class family, but he lived in an affluent neighborhood, so he got along with the rich kids and the poor kids.
Burr and I graduated from high school in 1989. I think we were both at the same party on the night of our graduation, but it would be another 25 years before I heard from Burr. And then we reconnected through the miracle of Facebook. We exchanged a few messages and he even called me one time. We talked about getting together, but it never happened.
About a year ago, another one of our classmates got married and Burr and I were both invited. We sat at the same table and talked for a bit—he was in touch with a lot of our classmates; I wasn’t. Again, we talked about getting together, but it never actually happened.
Burr called me again back in August or September of last year. He didn’t know that I’d moved to New Jersey, but he wanted to talk about our impending 30th class reunion and see if I was going. I was surprised to hear