“I don’t want a funeral.” Those were the words of my dear friend, Don Nixon, during his fearless battle with leukemia. Don passed away on Monday, February 8. I served on staff with Don and his wife Cathe. Along with their daughter Jordan, they became close friends of my family. We lived faith together and traveled the world together. (We really didn’t travel together, because Don was always 20 feet ahead of us, literally. He lived life in the present and the future, anticipating what great experience lay just ahead.)
Don and I texted or talked almost every day, as we battled our illnesses concurrently. We talked about a good God in a sick world. We talked about living and dying and living again. We talked about dreams, both realized and unrealized. We talked about what we imagined Jesus thought about institutional church (always one of our “go to” conversations). We talked about planning Advent and Lenten worship together again, although we knew that neither of us would ever be able.
Contrary to what many people think, ministers don’t usually have too many close friends. The confidential nature of the job means that we don’t have much to talk about! Don was a very close friend. We had a great deal to talk about.
“I don’t want a funeral.” I remember when Don first said these words. He and I had conducted more funerals together than you can imagine. We gave those moments our best, because we knew that we could make a difference with families at that confusing intersection in their lives. Funerals were holy moments in our ministry together, times when the eternal and the temporary crashed into each other. Each one was uniquely difficult in its own way. (I found it easier to “preach” a funeral when the deceased was not a Christian than when the individual claimed faith but no one could tell.)
“I don’t want a funeral.” When Don spoke these words, I reminded him how much life we had spent together with funerals. I reminded him of the countless hours preparing for them: I with the homily and prayers, he with the worshipful expressions through music and art. I reminded him that the services were a means through which the light of God pierced darkness. I reminded him of the age-old adage: funerals are for the living.
“I don’t want a funeral.” Why did Don say this? Because Don insisted that his life should speak for his dying. We should live life in a way that when we are gone, there is nothing left to say.
We did not have a funeral when Don died. We simply gathered to celebrate his life. If you have some time and want to celebrate a life well-lived, you can find a link to Don’s celebration on his church’s website (http://www.centralbaptistnewnan.org/media2010).
My friend has died. I am still very sad, and I miss him terribly. But I know that he has just arrived before me. (After all, I told him that he might as well get to heaven first, because he was always first to every other place we traveled!)
Thank you, Don, for living a life so well that you didn’t need a funeral. See you later.
On Second Thought 
I wish I had known him. I don’t want a funeral either. I want a celebration. The day I run into the arms of my Savior will be something to celebrate!
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Thank you very much, Beverly.
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Wow I’ve got chills! So profound, so well written and makes me wish I would have known this great man named Don. May our lives be a reflection of Gods grace and may we live our faith out loud!
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Thank you so much, Vonda. Blessings to you and your family.
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Allen, thanks for writing this post. Every word brought a vivid picture of Don Nixon to my mind. He lived and led in an extraordinary way. The two of you were an incredible worship team. I’ve been blessed by you both.
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Thank you so very much, Joyce. What incredible words you have written. Blessings.
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Thanks Allen. I liked your insight of living well so there isn’t a lot to say in the end. I never thought of that. However,
I, again, want to thank you for delivering a most uplifting service for my father in 2008. I still hear comments about how good everyone felt when they left the funeral service. I think of you often and wish you to feel better each day.
You have been a blessing to so many people. Thanks
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Thank you so much, Scott. Your dad was so special. Blessings to you and your family.
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Hey, Allen: Susie Hill sent me the link to your blog last week. So glad she did! As a young married couple, Rusty and I did some of our best “growing up” under your spiritual leadership at Lynwood. It’s a privilege to be a part of your audience again!
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How wonderful to hear from you, Karen! And thank you so much for your kind words!
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Thank you Allen for Jims service. For baptising to of my grandchildren. The journey of life with
Jesus,family, and friends is well spent!! I pray my life will speak for its self!! I’m enjoying Jessica’s babies!!
Blessings to you and yours. You and Don were precious to me and a great blessings!!
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Betty, it is great to hear from you! Thank you for your kind words.
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This is so purposeful to me. While your friends approach is a beautiful testimony to how one should live, you have taught me that the very last thing I can do for a grieving family is provide my presence. Prayers for you and your health as you continue to be a light that links me to Christ.
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Thank you very much, Jennifer.
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Thanks so much Allen for writing this. Since we gathered together for Don’s celebration, not a day goes by that I don’t think of Don or some aspect of Don. I for one will do all that I can to better follow the example of Living that Don set for us.
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Thank you, David. It was wonderful to see you.
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