passing…
My Dad has been preaching for over fifty years now…half a century of telling people ‘Jesus loves you. He really does.’ Of those fifty, he has spent the last twenty-five as pastor of First Baptist Church, Nashville, AR…its a beautiful little county seat town, a good place to live and love people.
Two Sundays ago, my Dad announced his retirement. A few weeks before that I stood with him in his study, a gentle space lined with books and memories, and he said ‘Its time. I know it is.’ I said ‘I believe it is too, Dad.’ We hugged one another and cried. Even when you know and believe its time, it can still be pretty damn hard. We’re misty-eyed men to begin with, so throw a major life step in the mix and…shucks.
My Dad has not been a specialist pastor, like ‘teaching pastor’ or ‘senior pastor’ or godhelpus ‘cultural architect.’ No, he’s been what old schoolers would call a ‘parson.’ He earned a doctorate degree once but he doesn’t make much of it. He prefers to be called ‘Brother David’ – you can call him by his first name, like you would a brother. And that’s how he’s built his life and ministry these fifty years, as someone like family, someone close, you just call and he’ll be there. He’s been there for the people in that church as well as the people in that town, no respector of color or creed. He’s prayed with and sat beside families while so-and-so was in surgery for eight hours; he’s sung the old songs every Friday morning with the folks in the local nursing home who don’t remember his name but they know his voice; he’s sat in the stands beside my Mom as they’ve cheered the boys of fall on to state championship after state championship; and he’s stood by the graves of friends and family and opened the Book and read the words that ease the sting. Men write books and expound at length these days on ‘incarnational ministry’…I’ve had a hard time knowing why you’d need a book to figure that one out. Its not that hard, fellas. Its not easy by any means, but its not that hard.
His final Sunday will be September 18th. I hope to be there, to honor my father. I’d like to be the first to stand among the cloud of witnesses as he passes down an aisle he’s walked a thousand Sundays…
WOW, it is hard to believe your Father is hangig it up! I learned to be dedicated to serving under his tutilage(sp?). Shoot, he married my wife and I over 30 years ago. He and your Mom are classic servants and humble lovable folks. No wonder you boys turned out so good. I am on staff @ FBC Redwater but intend to try to be there, morning service?
Thanks, Mike…yeah, hard to believe…I doubt he’ll truly hang it up; he’s still got a lot of grit left.
Thanks for sharing…I am a bit behind ya, but my father is such a pastor…I too honor his long-suffering ministry…
Isaac, you tagged it – ‘long-suffering ministry’…thanks for your comment!
Thanks for this brief reflection. My dad is also a life-long pastor, and this description fits his ministry as well. I always think that he embodies was it really means to be a “pastor,” meaning, a shepherd who cares deeply, intimately, and constantly for his “flock” (congregation, community, friends). Thanks again.
Jesse, we’re fortunate sons, huh? Thank you for stopping by…
What an honor to read these words and to know the roots from which you sprouted from. You are the Parson’s son….his greatest legacy! Beautiful!
Steve
Thanks, Steve…thanks.
done being the pastor. i wonder what he will be getting up to now. i suppose mom has a honey do list.
I think they both have a bucket list, so to speak…instead of a honey-do, its a ‘let’s-do’ list…I’m praying their health permits filling the bucket.
Maybe this will give him some time to enjoy his Johnny Cash record collection. John, Please pass on my thanks and gratitiude to Brother David.
Gary, I’ll be happy to pass along your words.
This is such a lovely tribute to the kind of pastor any church would be lucky to have. And that movie clip? So compelling. Our 8th grade boys are reading To Kill a Mockingbird. I think I’d like to watch the movie now…
And welcome to The High Calling. Thanks for displaying the badge so prominently!
Thanks, Cheryl…good to meet you.
Fantastic tribute to your dad. I especially love the bit about incarnational ministry. And the video clip.
I’m ashamed to admit this, but as I was reading, I kept wondering, “How big is his church?” Like I was trying to measure his success. About this time in the video clip, the man says to Scout, “Stand up.” And I realized I was having a little trouble standing up. I was deciding whether to stand up with you. Does our culture teach us to be like that? Or is that just part of being human?
So I reread your article as penance. Clearly, your dad’s work had meaning and honor, and he served God and people in that work for many years. And apparently raised a fine son.
Thanks, Marcus…your admission is honest and your penance appropriate.
The jury’s still out on the ‘fine son’ thing, but his father’s a good man.
The things your dad does as a parson are the things we all will want when we are facing those heavy life moments: when our loved one is undergoing an eight-hour surgery, we will want someone to sit and pray with us; when we’re lying in a nursing home bed, we’ll want to hear those familiar songs; and when we’re standing in the cemetery, we will long to hear that warm, faithful voice assuring us of the same thing that he does week after week, “Jesus loves you. He really does.”
Thanks, Ann…
I wonder if one is ever done being a pastor 🙂
Lovely reflection about your dad.
L.L., he is a pastor to his marrow…so yes, I doubt he’s done, whatever that may mean. Thanks for taking time to leave a note.
I am blessed with such a Pastor and a community. Thank you so much for this!
To Kill a Mockingbird — my favorite movie; this very scene — my favorite scene. And today as I watch it in context of your father, I prayerfully wonder how many times I have missed standing up. Oh how I don’t want to miss,or miss honoring, a single “passing by”. Thank you, brother, for giving my heart a tug.
Sallie
Thanks, Sallie…its a fav scene of mine as well. Glad you stopped by…
I can see the north side of our church from my desk at City Hall……it looks sad and lonesome. Probably because that’s how I feel. When I walked in at the south-side door tonight for choir practice, I knew what was going to happen. My eyes were burning and I knew the tears were about to flood my eyes. The church was quiet….the doors to the choir room where Brother David held prayer meeting were closed….thank goodness. I didn’t have to see him not there like he always has been.
Everyone had a busy look on their face like they were working the kitchen for a family in grief…..like, we have to do this but we really don’t want to.
I got my choir book and when I walked up the steps into the choir loft I was already full-blown crying. I looked at the podiem where he stood for 25 years and would go down on one knee for the opening prayer every Sunday morning. The sanctuary we so big and open…….Don, our choir director looked at me and saw I was crying…..I said, I’m sorry, I’m crying for Brother David. He said, that’s ok. I heard other people sniffing and felt better. As we sang, I soon realized that he was the motivation behind a lot of our music. Nobody loved our music like Brother David. I even found myself thinking, what does it matter, he’s not going to be here to hear this. It’s just music to most people but he listened to every word and would shout, Praise God!!!!
Whose going to lock the doors and turn off the lights?
This time came so fast and way too soon. I hate hearing, “be happy for them, they were ready for this!!!” Maybe so, but that’s not the point. They are gone. Things will never be the same. All the good times are gone……..good meaning having Brother David as our Shepard.
You were there John David……you heard the love and saw the little children hugging him and sobbing. That broke my heart. But my heart doesn’t matter because it’s Gods house and their life and everything is going on as part of the big plan. I’ll just have to get over it. And with Gods help I will.
I’m the person who told you that I’m Mary of Bethany in the Drama, and took the pictures and emailed them to Bro. David and Mrs. Anna.
Liz, thanks for writing…your words are deep and wide…and yes, you’re right, its like grief…it is grief.