The mighty warriors -- fallen, fallen

Jonathan, son of the first king of Israel (Saul), was killed in battle. He was, as you will see, a great friend of David, who would become the second king.

David says this of the death of his great friend: O my dear brother Jonathan, I'm crushed by your death. Your friendship was a miracle-wonder, love far exceeding anything I've known -- or ever hope to know. the mighty warriors -- fallen, fallen. And the arms of war broken to bits."

Crushed.
Friendship.
Miracle-worker.
Love far exceeding anything I've known.

Let me say that I did not know Stuart Scott, and I confess that I barely knew his work. I will admit to even not really thinking TV guys and gals are real writers. That's on me, I admit.

But if a man is known by not just the number of friendships he gathers at his death, and the depth of those friendships, I will say I missed Scott's life even as I viewed his death.

I did not know he, a long-time ESPN front of the camera talent, had died till I came home from church.

Then in succession, on Facebook, I watched as first Hannah Storm announced his death, nearly breaking down on the air. I watched a 15-minute tribute to Scott that featured a red-eyed Scott Van Pelt talking about him. I watched finally Rich Eisen's live tribute to Scott on the NFL network.

And I wept. I wept.

Now, usually I only cry at the SPCA commercials or sports movies (don't even mention Field of Dreams to me), but I wept for a man I did not know.

I spent some time in reflection as to why that was. It finally came to me, and it is selfish as all get out (another of those expressions from my youth that I have no idea about the meaning). I wept because I'm at least one day (minute?) closer to death than I was yesterday. I wept because I don't think I've done enough for my Lord, and if I were to die it would be such an incomplete life. I wept because I don't think I've left an imprint on lives the way I wanted because I'm so inadequate for the mission. I wept because people were weeping.

I wept because he had two girls he has left behind, and I will weep when I leave mine.

I wept.

And finally, I wept because of what Scott said in one of his last public appearances, last summer at the ESPY's.

He said this: "When you die, it does not mean you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live."

About that writer thing, I couldn't be more wrong. Have you ever read more wonderful words, more, well, right words?

My mother died of cancer. My closest aunt died of cancer. My dad died of cancer. I guess there is a better than average chance that I will die of cancer. Ultimately, it is what it is.

But, see, none of that matters this cold morning. What matters is how I live, today, tomorrow, till that time comes when a few lonely souls cry for me.

When they do I hope they remember what I hoped to accomplish as much as what I accomplished. And I hope they're listening to Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison, Elijah by Rich Mullins, My Chains are Gone by Chris Tomlin and I hope that dang SPCA commercial never has to run again.

I won't use any of Scott's catch-phrases to close this with, because truthfully I never noticed them. I just want to know who won and who lost most of the time.

I will close with what Eisen closed his piece: "I know there are many people out there battling cancer right now and Stuart would want you to know to keep fighting, to keep fighting and that he didn't lose his battle to cancer. He fought it as bravely as he possibly could."

"O my dear brother Jonathan, I'm crushed by your death. Your friendship was a miracle-wonder, love far exceeding anything I've known -- or ever hope to know. the mighty warriors -- fallen, fallen. And the arms of war broken to bits."

Scott was 49.