What is There to Say... a word about Tim Teagan

Timothy Edward Teagan 1941-2026

“I’ve loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you’ll remain intimately at home in my love. That’s what I’ve done—kept my Father’s commands and made myself at home in his love. I’ve told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends. You are my friends when you do the things I command you. I’m no longer calling you servants because servants don’t understand what their master is thinking and planning. No, I’ve named you friends because I’ve let you in on everything I’ve heard from the Father. You didn’t choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won’t spoil. As fruit bearers, whatever you ask the Father in relation to me, he gives you. But remember the root command: Love one another.” John 15:9-17 (The Message)

The first time I met Tim Teagan, I didn’t know that it would give me such a clear picture of what my life would look like today. It was October 31, 1992, six months after Shawn and I started dating. Shawn had planned a lot of projects around his house, and Tim and Lee Ann had flown down to accomplish what looked to me like a very long list. Now I feel like I have to say that Lee Ann did not show such restraint. The week after Shawn and I had our 4th date, she was on a plane “to meet the girl,” even going to the airport early to catch a standby flight… but I digress.

So, it’s Halloween afternoon. I head over to the house after work with bags of candy for the trick-or-treaters and a couple of pizzas for dinner. When I arrive at the front door, it only took a few seconds to know that things were not going well. It turns out that Shawn had bought pre-pasted wallpaper… and about the time they got the 3rd sheet up, the 1st one had peeled itself right off the wall. So there they were, up to their armpits in damp wallpaper and getting more frustrated by the minute. Being an oldest child and a people pleaser, I offered to go to the local hardware store to pick up wallpaper paste, which they gratefully accepted. That got them quickly back on track, but now there are trick-or-treaters ringing the bell every few minutes, and Lee Ann is looking at her watch, wondering when we are going to eat.

Soon after, we reheated the pizza, with Tim and Shawn stealing bites here and there, and Lee Ann settled in to watch a movie. I asked her, “Should we try to do something to help? It doesn’t look like they are going to get finished until late in the night.” “No,” she responded. “We’re just going to watch this movie, and I guarantee we’re having more fun than they are.” “Lee Ann, we’re watching Psycho.” “I know,” she said. “It seems appropriate, don’t you think?”

I learned a lot about Tim that weekend, which meant I learned a lot about Shawn and his whole family, and ultimately what my life would look like today. He was a quiet presence, but forceful in the gentlest way possible. He was a family man in the best way you can use that phrase. He loved his children, Shawn and Lori Ann, and his grandchildren, Merrick and Lane Ann, and believed that his great-granddaughter, Clara, is the most beautiful baby in the world -- and none of us are offended by that. He loved his “outlaws” like they were his own children, and Mike, Alyssa, Dylan, and I could not be more blessed. 

Sometimes, as families grow up and spread out, their relationships change. That didn’t happen with Tim. He was still Dad and Papa to us. He was included in all of our decisions, big and small. He opened his home to us, and went the places we went. Rugby games and dance competitions – he was there. Preschool setup and Advent decorating – he remembered where everything was stored and what it had looked like for the last three decades. When Shawn and I planned an interesting trip, we brought him along – he went with us to so many cool places, including Russia and Israel, and still couldn’t believe he had been there. We have thousands of pictures memorializing adventures near and far, but they will never replace the hours and days we spent together. The photos, the walking stick, the hat with its collection of pins, and the memories will continue to bring us great joy and remind us that all the moments, big and small, are precious and cannot be taken for granted. But they will never take his place.

Last weekend, we gathered to say goodbye… to let him know that we will be OK because that’s how he raised us. We laughed, we cried, we told stories, we ate 3 Jet’s large Pizzas and a 2-pound bag of peanut butter M&M’s. We are thankful he was a great role model to us, teaching us how to be dependable, faithful, and ready to live life to the fullest, even when things don’t go the way we planned, even when our hearts are broken.

In the Methodist tradition, we understand grace – unmerited love - in many ways. There is prevenient grace – the grace that comes before we know the name or character of God. There is justifying grace – the grace that convinces us that Jesus is our savior and our model for living and serving in the world. And there is sanctifying grace, the grace that we live into for the rest of our lives. This means that we don’t do good works to earn our way into heaven. Instead, the work and the gifts we give are in response to everything that God has already done for us. 

I have never felt more in sync with this theology than this fall as I am reading the book The Gifts of Imperfection, by sociologist researcher Brené Brown. In this book, she develops 10 guideposts for wholehearted living, two of which really hit home this week: Cultivating a resilient spirit, and cultivating gratitude and joy. Through these guideposts, she shares how our culture, and sometimes our churches, have replaced the concepts of resiliency and joy with “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” and being happy. 

Resiliency is not about masking the pain and sorrow in our lives, pretending that it doesn’t matter, Resiliency happens when we dig deep into our spirituality - our belief in something bigger than ourselves - to experience in community both the pain and the compassion in our lives. Likewise, joy is infinitely bigger than happiness. Joy shines through our sorrow as we tell stories, laugh together, and allow our memories to be a comfort as we grieve. At times like this, it is important to remember that happiness is situational and fleeting. Joy is at the core of our being and forever, similar to how a firefly can be a beacon in the darkness with only a momentary flash of light.

Tim understood both of those things. It’s been 15 years since Lee Ann’s death, and some level of sadness remained for him – he never stopped missing her, but it never stopped him from living. This hat and walking stick are emblems of Tim’s determination to keep going to new places and make new memories. He was fully present in his life and in ours. 

Quietly assured of his faith in God and Christ, Tim did the right thing. He taught his kids to live that way, and they have passed those lessons on to the next generation. Like my dad, Tim lived his faith quietly. He embodied the understanding that you don't have to beat people over the head with your bible or talk about Jesus all the time. Faith is how you live, every day, with every person you meet. Tim embodied the Wesley mantra, “Do all the good you can to all the people you can in all the ways you can.”

In our gospel lesson today, Jesus told his disciples that they needed to be willing to give their lives for their friends. This isn’t about martyrdom, but about loving people, no matter what, sometimes putting their needs before your own. 

There’s no way to know the number of people it will take to fill in the jobs and places where he donated his time. As a legacy of his faithfulness, I hope that many of you will step up to fill in those gaps. From the messages we have gotten, we understand that many of you are also devastated by his passing. Whether it was the members of the Detroit Rotary Club, the ladies in the office at the DAC, the gate guards and staff in his subdivision, or his faithful church family, each of you feels the loss of his friendly, gentle smile. This is when we need each other the most. This is when we remember that we are not alone… we have each other. Tim needs us to take care of one another the way he took care of all of us.

When we commit our lives to Christ, we promise to live a life of servanthood, to love and care through every phase of our lives, and to model that faith for others. As we remember the life of Tim Teagan, our father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and friend, let us remember and believe that love and service to one another are at the root of all good things… in fact, they are what life is all about. 

Today, we give thanks that we are all a part of Tim’s legacy to the world and in the Kingdom of God. So let us go and serve.

In the name of our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, Amen.