This is the last thing I ever thought I would be doing… but here we are.
I have been McKellar’s youth minister for the past 4 years. I am a better minister, mom, and human because of what we have shared. McKellar is the kind of person you meet and are changed by… that is evident by you all… here… missing him. But before I even touch on the man he was and the ways he made this world better I have to address the thing we all don’t want to think about and some of you may be hoping I ignore. McKellar and I stood firmly on the side of Mumford & Sons and not leaving things unsaid.
I met McKellar when he was deep in the pit of depression. His family knew he needed connection and he was desperate for it. He wanted nothing more than to be well. He was brave and entered our youth community to quickly become a pillar of joy, unity, and transparency. He openly shared about his battles with depression and anxiety making this a safe place for others to share their own struggles. McKellar died because of an illness. He fought it, his family actively fighting alongside him, giving him every possible treatment and support. Just as many lose their life to cancer and heart disease, McKellar lost his life to mental illness. This tragic loss of a wonderful soul falls on no one. There is no blame, there is no condemnation, there is only grief over the loss of a son, brother, grandson, and friend and the peace in knowing that in Christ there is no more darkness and that McKellar has found the wholeness he has always longed for.
To know McKellar was to love him. The outpouring of love and support that has been given to McKellar’s parents, Scott & Amy, step-parents, Beth & Kerry, siblings, Will, Claire, & Luke, grandmothers, Anne, Carolyn & Joel and the rest of his loving family... has been staggering.
McKellar loved his family above all else.
I had never met a student who not only loved but liked and respected his parents as much as McKellar.
Last year when Amy was having health issues McKellar wanted to care for his mom. Always her protector and baby, McKellar would not leave her side. To spend time with them together was to know the bond they shared. It was magical. McKellar gave Amy the gift of her true calling… motherhood and she gave him her ability to love people without limitations. At some point in high school McKellar and I were talking about parties. They were NOT his thing but because of his stupid good looks and perfect hair many thought it would be (he broke stereotypes left and right). He would get so frustrated at the ways people tried to box him in… he told me, “I have zero interest in partying… why would I stay up late and be hungover when I could go to bed early and wake up to fish or hunt with my dad”. Scott was his hero. Scott’s dedication to his children shines through them. McKellar was so proud of who his dad was and longed to grow up to be like him. Their most precious moments were shared in the quiet of a deer stand and fishing on the water. Being a big brother to Will & Claire gave him immense pride. He constantly talked about how much ‘cooler’ they were than him and how gifted they were in everything they did. He was beyond excited to get to drive them to school his senior year and felt responsible for protecting them from basically everything. Luke was his joy. It brought him closer to Beth and sealed the bond that they shared. Always the big brother, he would play guitar for Luke as he was getting ready for bed and invariably Luke would want to stay up and play with him. If you were near McKellar and he had his phone you saw the most recent picture or video of Luke.
When I met McKellar his grandfather, Chuck, was already in the throws of Alzheimer’s. Alongside his Mimi, McKellar cared for him, sleeping next to him on an air mattress on hard nights and in his last hours on earth playing guitar for him as he left his earthly body. Mimi and McKellar were a team, snarky and silly and overflowing with love for each other. When it was time to pick a college CNU was the only one on his list. He was excited to live near the ocean, his grandmother Cee Cee, and possibly commandeer her boat as often as possible. Cee Cee was one of the insiders who knew the big secret McKellar kept covered by that ridiculous hair… he was a super nerd. At 10 he took a trip with her to Colorado and Utah to dig for dinosaur bones and study cave paintings.
Late elementary school was difficult for McKellar and he felt like he didn’t have a place or friends. When he started at the Field School everything changed. He found a place that nourished his kind heart and encouraged his unique soul. He also found guitar. The years that McKellar struggled socially colored how he viewed the world and how he wanted to interact with it.
When we got McKellar here at COOS he was a sophomore at Albemarle. He had hair that hid his face and was hungry for what he was being fed here… belonging. Acceptance. Christ.
This week Amy found a note McKellar wrote after Chuck died. In it he wrote:
I went through life kinda lost for a while not really knowing what to believe when my mom talked to me about joining the youth group at this church. I was a little scared at first because I didn't really know too many people besides Ailish and this weird kid named Matt that I went to elementary school with. But I went anyway.
It's the best thing I've ever done. In the youth group I found friends and discovered this guy my mom had brought me up to know. Having God in my life has been the most tremendous thing in the world. I think the biggest effect having God as part of my life is realizing that he has a plan for me. How awesome is that? This guy, who loves me with all his heart, has set up my life, and has laid out this beautiful, terrifying, confusing plan.
He and I often came back to the verse from 1 Samuel 16:7 that says, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” The struggles McKellar experienced in school early on changed his life. He saw every person-- no matter their age, gender, sexuality, social status, or creed as a worthy soul to know and celebrate. As a senior McKellar choose to always sit with the 6th graders at our Wednesday night gatherings. While older kids were vying for his attention (many because they were not so secretly in love with him) he could care less. He took a vested interest in the lives of the kids that no one else saw. He made them feel worthy and wonderful and was Christ to them. He saw their hearts. We met more than once to discuss a major issue he was having socially… he could not understand why people who wouldn’t give him the time of day as an outcast tween now wanted to buddy up to him. We would joke that he needed a life size cutout of himself as a 6th grader and if people wanted to be around that kid they could be his friend. A WW2 history buff and passionate musician McKellar didn’t let the world tell him who to be. He was a creation of God, unique and wonderful.
I have shared some of the most pivotal moments of my own life with McKellar. Two and a half years ago my friend Jenn died of ALS. Her son Chris and daughter Kate were sledding with the Cox Kids when I got the call to get them home. Through a series of mishaps with cell phones and battery life the only person I could get on the phone was McKellar. He heard my voice and I didn’t even have to say the words. He got those kids home. Later that night McKellar joined us in the Durant home as we mourned the loss of a mother, wife, and friend. Not many 16 year olds can show up for other people in the way McKellar did. When my own mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, the disease that took his grandfather, McKellar reached out to remind me that I was not alone.
McKellar met people where they were.
As he struggled with his own depression and anxiety he fought hard and showed up. He loved people well and was well loved. He didn’t feel isolated and alone. He didn’t feel unlovable or unworthy. His love of Christ showed through all he did. I am friends with Mr. Bunin, one of McKellar’s teachers from AHS. Whenever we would speak about him we would come back to the same spot: we hoped that someday we could raise sons like McKellar. There is still not a truer statement.
A week ago, none of us would have predicted we would be here. We are here because McKellar had the sometimes fatal disease of depression. Depression turns everything upside down. It changes how we think and turns rational thoughts backwards. We want desperately for McKellar’s death to make sense but because of the very nature of depression it won’t. We want a rational answer to a question there is no rational answer for. You have the choice to live with that or to make things up. You may be thinking of what you left unsaid or the things you wish you’d done. Whatever you are making up… it’s not the answer. There is no rational answer. McKellar had a disease that is sometimes fatal.
What we do know is that McKellar lived a life battling this sometimes fatal disease and in the process of living that life changed each of us. McKellar was Christ in this brutal and beautiful world (brutiful as Glennon Doyle says). He loved well. He encouraged and supported. He made music and laughed in a way many can only dream to.
He taught many of us what it means to see as God sees… to look at other’s hearts.
As one of God’s beloved children McKellar was given some irrevocable promises:
- He would never be alone; neither depth nor height nor anything else in all creation would separate him from the love of God. He was not alone at his death and is not alone now.
- He will be loved forever… no matter what… no exceptions
- He is promised everlasting life. Jesus has prepared a place for McKellar
This day is a whole mess of brutiful. The life McKellar lived was rich and full and meaningful. His death leaves a giant hole and unanswerable questions. Ultimately, we know that God is the source of all healing. God can take the worst, the most painful, and this takes the cake on that, and find ways for love and light to shine through. The God of redemption is at work, even now, in this darkness, to bring hope to Her people.
I pray the God of love continues in us the radical work McKellar did in his life: meeting, affirming, and loving people as the are --where they are-- and through this darkness that transformative love breaks through.
Amen.
