Indiana Jones and Dorian Flynn
Field Note: on loss, love, and a life well lived.
Who would expect a line like this from the fourth Indiana Jones movie? If you’re distracted for less than a minute, you might miss something profound in the setup.
Indiana Jones: Brutal couple of years, huh, Charlie? First Dad, then Marcus.
Dean Charles Stanforth: We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away.
It feels true. But it isn’t the whole truth. Loss is part of life. But that sting? It comes from loving deeply and living purposefully.
Most of you reading this knew Dorian Flynn. For those who didn’t, he was a dear friend whose life reflected the kind of purposeful living and contemplative faith I often circle around here. I want to share what I wrote when I heard he had graduated to the Larger Life.
Years ago, almost a lifetime now, several of us, pals, friends, church family, were packed into a small, warm church in Barbados. My friend Dorian Flynn was preaching a lesson about knowing God. My oldest son, about five at the time, kept glancing back and forth between me and Dorian, who seemed larger than life to everyone. A Barnabas of a man, rugby player’s frame, born in Cape Town, shaped by Alabama life. Then came the shout-whispered question: “Is Dorian God?!” I used to remind Dorian of that moment. My answer was always a firm, “Absolutely not,” to laughter at how ludicrous (and tongue-in-cheek) the thought seemed. And yet… nobody doubted that Dorian was a child of God.
The traits were there. He re-presented Him to any and all.
Patient in every conversation, kind in every encounter.
Strong enough to confront, gentle enough to restore.
Courageous in vision, humble in service.
Steady in storms, joyful in calm.
Firm and fair.
Loud and soft.
Now, living 10,000 miles from Dorian’s adopted hometown (and my own birthplace), I woke this morning to the news my friends have been wrestling with for hours: Dorian has stepped into eternity. We hurt, but we also rejoice. We stand on his shoulders and keep looking toward the horizon, whether that horizon is eternity itself or simply another day to serve others. Either way, we take our turn to leave the world better than we found it. Well done, good and faithful servant.
Thank you for letting me share about Dorian here. Some of you knew him well; others are meeting him for the first time. Either way, his life is a reminder that faithfulness is never wasted. May our lives be a legacy of love, joy, peace, kindness, and goodness. A testament to the kind of life Dorian showed everyone.