Tripp's Legacy of Lightheartedness
On April 22, our dear friend Tripp Kimbrough went home to be with Jesus. If you are local to Greensboro and knew Tripp, you know this has been extra sad in the midst of a heavy world. If you didn't know Tripp, here's one thing I can tell you about him: The legacy Tripp leaves behind reminds us to live with a holy lightheartedness.
Jesus Christ meant so much to Tripp that he was able to have a wider view of circumstances that didn’t weigh his soul down. His radiant smile and delightful interactions gave testimony to God who enabled Tripp to hand lightheartedness around any room he walked into.
Psalm 121:1 has come to mind as I’ve reflected on Tripp’s gift of keeping a light heart.
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains - where does my help come from? (v.1)”
The psalmist is leading a pilgrimage ascending to Jerusalem and at first glance it may seem like he is standing at the base of a mountain saying, “Ah, look at the pretty mountains!”
But I don't think that was the case. I think the group was looking at the menacing mountains with dread. This is obvious when looking at the rest of the Psalm. There was danger of falling, being attacked, or being scorched by the sun. These unwanted imagined outcomes loomed large in their imagination.
We can relate. Currently the pandemic has us stuck at the base of a mountain.
If we reopen America again then we risk a second outbreak of the virus. If we keep the stay home orders then we risk economic fallout.
Either way, there's a potential mountain overwhelming our imagination.
I remember telling Tripp a story of accidentally stepping on my daughter’s trumpet. It was the morning of her big concert and I walked into her room and felt the trumpet’s horn bend under my foot. Waking her up with that news wasn’t fun.
Tripp re-enacted the story for me in a funny way. He listened with a light heart and offered expressions of Ava playing a bent trumpet that night. His humor was unburdening.
Tripp taught me that laughter and faith should be closer together than we think. His wife, Anna, wrote perfectly that “his infectious sense of humor was one of his greatest traits, he was always encouraging others to take themselves less seriously.”
Right after I took that heavy step onto Ava’s trumpet, my imagination went straight to all that needed to be done to get Ava a new trumpet.
In the great scheme of things, this isn’t a big deal but it weighed heavily on my mind because I felt responsible for making my mistake right. In my reaction, I didn’t consider the wider view of God with me.
Distant mountains are pretty but if you have to cross them on foot, they’re pretty stressful. We found a rental trumpet and it all worked out. Was my mental energy and stress worth it?
It’s as if Tripp knew what it meant to stand at the base of the mountain and take a wider view of what is going on. They would agree and say, “My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip (v. 2-3).” (Cue Tripp’s infectious smile at that last part).
Many people don’t realize that Tripp was an ordained minister and hospice chaplain for Rockingham County. I’ve heard so many stories and am convinced that we have no idea his impact in that county and beyond.
This lighthearted, godly man would drive his little car into these remote places and be with people who were dying. Who does that!? And how was he able to carry such soulful lightness in the midst of it?
Part of it, I think, was that Tripp embraced his imperfection. He was sometimes awkward, would forget people’s names, and probably step on several trumpets in one day… but God always seemed to show up. There was a sure-footedness that Tripp had in his “wider view” of God with him.
A godly, light heart can walk right up to the front door of pain. They actually are a welcoming presence to each other and with wisdom are compatible.
Tripp knew how to hold pain and be with people in serious moments. He proved that one can face pain and hope simultaneously.
At the base of the mountain, I think Tripp and the psalmist would finish each other’s sentences. They would offer images of God’s presence walking with us. Our imagination doesn’t have to be filled with dread and heaviness but with images of God taking steps with us straight into the mountains.
Our imagination can carry large images of God who is “watching over your life (v. 7).” In the original language, “God is our keeper” is repeated five times in Psalm 121. The unburdening promise that God holds our life is the secret to lightheartedness.
Legacy is a big word but I chose it because Tripp’s friendship was impactful. He taught me the power of Christ who gives us everything we need to be lighthearted.
Last year Tripp gave me a birthday gift. First off, did you know the man was an artist? He made wire trees and had a little side business called Living Wire. I bought one at a craft show once (picture below).
Anyway, he made me a nice walking stick. It's a shaved, hickory wood stick that I will forever treasure. It reminds me to walk lightly and follow Jesus into the lives of others.
I could hear Tripp and the psalmist saying together, “God’s presence with us makes those mountains look beautiful don’t they!?” Psalm 121 is actually a song of praise, a song for God’s people as they traverse through the mountains.
Yes, that’s Tripp’s legacy: to live lightly in the presence of God and walk with people who are struggling.
Thank God for Tripp. Well done brother and we love you!
“May the Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore (Psalm 121:8).”
