Fittingly, I think, Steve McNair's family chose the 9th day of this month to hold a memorial service in Nashville. It's also incredibly gracious that the McNair family would share the visitation and the memorial with Steve's fans in addition to those that actually knew him.
It seems like it's been a long time already, although in reality it has been less than a week since Steve McNair was murdered by a troubled 20 year old girl who then killed herself. Although I'm probably too interested in the forensic and purient aspects of this terrible tragedy, my thoughts today concern the tension between compassion and condemnation in our society.
A friend from high school that I've virtually re-connected with commented yesterday:
...What's more frightening to me is someone at work said Steve got what he deserved...what do you expect fooling around like that? I had to step in and say that I don't think anyone ever deserves to be murdered...
Amen, Greg. For goodness sake, we should all be thankful we don't get what we really deserve.
Another person I respect (and a minister!) surprised me with a Tweet he posted today, not about the McNair case, but you see the common thread:
Businessman is VERY touchy feely w/ his young secretary on Dunkin Donuts couch. He has a wedding ring. She doesn't. I want to vomit on them
Vomit on them? Why? Let he that has no sin cast the first stone (or vomit).
Everyone, let's face it, we all have besetting sins. And I'm pretty sure it's not wise to look at someone else's before I look at my own.
I like what Dwight Lewis writes in today's Tennseean. Mr. Lewis is the editor of the editorial page and a friend of Steve's.
Yes, frat brother Steve was my man. And he turned out to be the man for others, as well. Remember the day in August 2005 when Middle Tennesseans turned out to help him fill six tractor-trailers with supplies for the Hurricane Katrina victims?
And I thought his recent opening of Steve McNair's Gridiron 9 restaurant was such a great idea.
But as much as I admired him, some of Steve's actions off the field that you would hear about made me feel that something troubled him. Was it the drugs that he apparently sometimes took to keep playing in games when he was hurt? Was it the pain that he often suffered after taking hard hits in games?
I don't know the answer, but his untimely death should be a lesson to others of us — to reach out when we know that a loved one or friend seems troubled. Yes, Steve would ask us to forgive him for some of the things he apparently did, but I think, too, that he would also ask us not to be afraid to say, "let's talk about whatever is troubling.''
You never know whose life you may help save.
Lord, teach me to help You save a life instead of helping you judge a life.
