As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives and that at the last he will stand upon the earth. After my awaking, he will raise me up; and in my body I shall see God. I myself shall see and my eyes behold him who is my friend and not a stranger.

This great text from the Book of Job by some interpreters is the definitive Old Testament exposition on the resurrection of the dead. God the creator of all things is also a Redeemer and a personal savior. He, who conducts the entire universe, is also attentive to the minutest detail of his most favored creature–each individual human being. Just as we are knit together in our mother's womb to become a person, so we are destined to experience the sublime gift that is ours in knowing God. In death, Job says, "I shall see and my eyes behold him who is my friend and not a stranger."

In the Second Book of the Chronicles we are told that Abraham was "The friend of God." James in his pastoral Epistle, reiterates "Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness and he was called the friend of God." In John's Gospel, Jesus comforts his disciples before his passion by telling them that they are his friends, not slaves or servants, but friends, "You are my friends...all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you...I command you love one another."

When Phillips Brooks, a distinguished priest and renown preacher was asked by a journalist, "What makes a great preacher?" He responded by saying "The gospel through personality." Sermons have their greatest impact when the life of the preacher exemplifies what he proclaims. In fact, the greatest sermons, certainly those that have moved hundreds of thousands of people to the saving knowledge of Christ were not sermons at all, but the testimonials of the lives of men and women whose holiness bore greater witness than any sermon. Robert Locke, priest, friend, companion, brother and uncle, was one of these. He, like Abraham, was a man of faith, and like Abraham he was a friend of God. One of the profound images in the Genesis account of the fall of man, is his expulsion from the Garden of Eden. The significance of the garden was that God walked and talked in the cool of the evening with his beloved creatures, man and woman–there was friendship between creator and the created. The central message of Jesus was that this lost relationship, this friendship with God, was restored for those who heard his voice and followed him in faith. The intimacy, squandered by the first Adam, was restored by the Second Adam. The tree which symbolized death and loss is replaced by a tree which symbolized life and restoration. Although Bob often thought little of himself and sometimes perceived that his vocation was misplaced, he was, by the very nature of this self effacing, closer to God than he realized; and from this humble perception of himself grew his compassion for others, his peace loving demeanor and his prayerful concern for those he encountered—he was a man who knew God as friend and not as a stranger. He was given the gift to walk and talk with God in the cool of the day.

When Carl Jung, the famous analyst, was asked if he believed in God, he responded by saying, "No, I don't believe in God," and echoing the words of Job he added, "I know God." Unlike Athena, who in Greek mythology springs full-blown from the mind of Zeus,"knowing"as distinct from "believing" comes from a willingness to peer more deeply into the drama—the play of our lives. It does not spring forth full blown. It comes from playing our part to the fullest, peering across the glare of the stage lights, seeing—so to speak—through the glass darkly, at the playwright, the director and the audience—a Trinity of Being—the Holy One, and knowing that we have played our part well. How do we know, how do we discern the difference between believing and knowing? Giving our intellectual assent is a critical part of the religious experience, but in giving our heart we transcend belief and experience "knowing." It is no theological accident that Scripture tells us God is Love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. (I John 4:16) And it is no secret, certainly to those of you who have worked in the church that "rightness" of belief rarely compels someone to embrace the faith; but when the "rightness" is linked to a loving pastoral heart, people are drawn to the light which emanates from within that person. Although all of us would have loved to have seen Bob more engaged in his public priesthood, he never for one second stopped functioning as a man of God, sharing his hope with others, encouraging people to press on under the most trying of circumstances and giving some of the wisest counsel to be found anywhere. He loved deeply, he forgave widely, he wept with those who sorrowed and rejoiced in the good fortune of others. His rarest gift was his passion to bring harmony to desperate groups and individuals. A gift so sorely lacking in the church today. Truly he was a man who knew God and God's light radiated through him.

Paul in writing to Timothy, reflecting on his own hardships and the unknown that he was facing, said, "I am persuaded that he (God) is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." My friends, it is no small legacy for someone of faith to tell us how to die. He does so by telling us how to live. To the Christians at Corinth (II Cor. 12:6ff) Paul, ever mindful of the wretchedness of his own soul before meeting Christ on the road to Damascus, speaks not of his strength but his weakness. The apostle to the gentiles could command the lame to walk but could not cure his own affliction. After beseeching God to remove his "thorn," Paul is told, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." This deeper knowing gives Paul the wisdom to say, "For the sake of Christ, I am content with weakness...for when I am weak then I am strong." Most of us do not have the spiritual depth to see our weakness as a potential tool to manifest God's power. We do, from time to time see a glimpse of this when we become aware of how Divine Grace has enabled us to escape disaster time and time again. A wise priest once said that he always prayed before each sermon that his people would hear what the Lord wanted them to hear and not what he had to say. I've always tried to emulate that prayerful practice. As an impetuous young priest I decided one Sunday to "lay into my congregation about something or other." A young man, who was a graphics artist by profession, was leaving church that Sunday and greeted me warmly at the door holding the blank side of a bulletin insert on which he had drawn a very dramatic "crown of thorns." He said, "Father, when you spoke of the crown of thorns today, I was deeply touched. Thank you." I hadn't mentioned the crown of thorns. Most of us here can testify to the fact that God more often than not has to work through our foolishness, and the amazing thing is that he does precisely that.

Phillips Brooks said, "The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is." Bobby's humility was not a self groveling sort of thing but a genuine sense that he stood naked before God. When the French Jesuit Paleontologist Pierre Theilhard de Chardin was on an archeological dig in the Himalayas, unable to celebrate mass, he found himself early on a Sunday morning observing the sun rise above the mountains and reflected on its resemblance to a host rising above a chalice; and the host was like a great optical lense, and when God peered through the optical lense of his Son he saw us only in our perfection–not in our imperfections. In life, and no doubt in death as well, Bobby had a keen sense he was the beneficiary of this kind of Divine Mercy. What he saw as his inadequacy, those who knew him saw as grace through personality.

Charles Carlson, an American Protestant writer, says "There can be no significant Christology without an understanding of discipleship." We can talk about Christ all we want to, but if that "talk" doesn't somehow finds its way from our head, to our heart and then to our hand it is for naught. The chronicles of church history are filled with the lives of ordinary people who never thought of themselves as "saints" with a capital "S", but just thought of themselves as ordinary Christians working out their salvation in fear and trembling. As much as we may be inspired by the "giants" it is really the humble saints with the little "s's" that give us the inspiration to continue in the practice of our faith. St. Paul in writing to the church at Corinth says (II Corinthians 2:14f), "(God) in Christ always leads us in triumph and through us spreads the fragrance of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved...we are men of sincerity... commissioned by God...we speak in Christ." As a priest in the Church of God, Robert Wayne Locke was this kind of priest, one who touched the lives of many by virtue of the Christlike fragrance in his own life, and a man who understood his own vocation in terms of discipleship.

You know my friends, if Bob were here, he would probably tell us to "get over it, go home and fix ourselves a Manhattan and have a lovely dinner." If it is true that "Every saint has a bee in his halo," Bob's would have been this earthy sense of the practicality of faith and life. Paul Tillich said, "The saint is saint, not because he is ‘good' but because he is transparent for something that is more than he himself is." When Jesus was calling his disciples there occurred this enigmatic moment when seeing Nathaniel he said, "Behold an Israelite in whom there is no guile." Nathaniel said to him, "How do you know me?" Jesus answered him "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you." Nathaniel answered him, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" Jesus responded....."Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man." To be guileless one must be honest, free of deceit and transparent. Jesus didn't say to Nathaniel that he was sinless but guileless. In the parable of the prodical son, Jesus says, "when the boy came to himself he said, "I will arise and go to my father." It is in the moment of awakening to "one's true self" that we allow God to imbue us with his grace to become transparent for something more than ourselves. Our guileless friend, Robert Wayne Locke, is at rest and with Nathaniel and all the saints who have laid their hearts bare he now sees heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man who is his personal friend and not a stranger."