Until All Families Are Like Jeremiah's

The first time I went to the funeral of someone who was gay was in 1994. Mark’s funeral was in the church where he had grown up, the church where he was baptized, the church my family had moved to my senior year of high school. Mark’s dad was an elder and his parents became dear friends of my parents. But I had known Mark from my freshman year of high school and all through college, both of us being clarinet players in band.

Mark’s funeral happened at a time when a lot of young men were dying. At Mark’s funeral there was no mention of his being gay, and there was absolutely no hint of AIDS being the proximate cause of his death. It was a different time, and we just didn’t talk about such things, especially in church.

But that’s what made Mark’s funeral particularly sad. We couldn’t tell the truth. Even more somber was the fact that we couldn’t acknowledge all of who he was. Sadder still, he died without fully knowing he was loved by God – just as he was. And his parents – leaders in their church – were left feeling they had no one to grieve openly with, no one who would love Mark for who he was.

Then in 2012, my friend Mike died. Mike’s family wanted nothing to do with the planning or implementation of the service, but they came. Mike had been openly gay for several years and the church where he was a beloved member took care of everything for that service because his family refused to do so. When I looked out from the podium at his family that day I saw stone-cold faces, barely willing to acknowledge this good man had been their son and brother and nephew and cousin, let alone tell the truth that he was also gay.

Ten years later, in 2022 I helped plan the memorial service for my friend Ryder who died of cancer. Ryder was a trans man whose family didn’t want to acknowledge his transition, but they ended up coming to the service. The Well, a coffeehouse in Nashville, was packed with people who drove in from all over the country and many more watched online as we honored his life and his unwavering love for God. Without hesitation, Ryder’s friends acknowledged all of who he was.

But last year, in 2024, I went to a funeral like no other I’ve attended for an LGBTQ person--because his family fully loved and affirmed all of him.

For Jeremiah’s funeral we sang his favorite worship songs in a church that was packed out the door. We listened to lifelong friends share memories of him that made us laugh and cry. At the reception afterward, we enjoyed the strange mix of all of Jeremiah’s favorite foods from Cane’s fried chicken to chocolate milk to Cheez-Its and lemonade.

I first met Jeremiah through the eyes of his mom, Shelley. She and I met over lunch, and I listened as she expressed their whole family’s deep love for their young teenaged boy, Jeremiah, who had recently come out to them. There was no thought, no mention, no hint of abandonment – not even the slightest change in the way his parents would relate to him now that they knew this “one more thing” about their boy. They clearly understood Jeremiah was exactly the same person he was the minute before he told them he was gay.

If you’re thinking this family must not have been Christian, you need to think again.

Jeremiah was the grandson of missionaries and elders, the son of church leaders, church planters, leaders of ministry to missionaries. He had been involved in his youth group during high school.

Jeremiah was deeply loved by his parents, David and Shelley, and his older brother Samuel, and he never doubted that. He never had to even consider that there was something about him that would cause his family to not love him. Not for a second.

That’s the first thing that’s different about this story.

The second is the moving tribute his mom Shelley gave during Jeremiah’s memorial service, painting a picture of what life might have looked like for him as a gay man had he lived longer.

A life that included a husband for him.

A life that included a family with children - grandkids for David and Shelley.

Grandchildren who would’ve been cherished and spoiled by their Uncle Samuel and their Great Aunt Sara.

Grandchildren who would’ve seen the ways of Jesus modeled by all their family.

Jeremiah experienced being part of a family that wanted to understand and love him well, thus they were able, in the midst of their deep grief, to honor all the parts of him in his death.

This week marks the one-year anniversary of Jeremiah’s funeral, and as I reflect back on all the funerals I’ve attended for LGBTQ people, Jeremiah’s family gives me hope—hope that more families will truly celebrate the life of their child. We’ve come such a long way in the last thirty years.

We’ve still got a lot more work to do. But as we remember Jeremiah and other LGBTQ friends who have left us too soon, hold onto the image of his family who loved Jeremiah to the end, and were proud to say it out loud.

Watch Jeremiah's memorial service here - you'll be encouraged and blessed!

Help CenterPeace provide support for more families like Jeremiah's - make a donation to the Jeremiah Park Memorial Fund!

 Pictured from left, Samuel, Jeremiah, Shelley, and David Park.