Several years ago, I was asked to perform a funeral for a brother of a member of our church. I'll call him Jason. When I don't know the person, I usually gather the family together and ask them about their most vivid memories of the person. Most of the time, the next hour is filled with laughter and tears and fond memories.

When I asked Jason's family about their memories, there was this awkward pause. It was as if they knew what they were supposed to say, but they couldn't say it. They knew they were supposed to say that Jason would have given the shirt off his back to a stranger. They knew they were supposed to say that Jason never said a bad word about anyone. They knew they were supposed to say that Jason had love for his family and loyalty to his friends. Only they couldn't say it. I…