Column: That's who he was

Hey friends! Here in this part of the world, the time has come for the annual World's Largest Rattlesnake Round-Up. (Yes, that is this town's claim to fame.) And for me, this means that I get to spend time with family this weekend. Insert smiley face. 

And especially with the things that have happened on a personal note this week, I'm finding that spending time with family is such a treasured blessing. Read this week's column to find out what I'm talking about, and share it along if you get something out of it. Have a great weekend, friends.

Original publication date: Friday, March 13, 2015
Random Writer
That's who he was

This week I stood at the graveside of a dear family friend, a fellow church member. I never expected to be there, but as the ways of the Lord are so much greater than my ways, that's how He ordained it.

I first met George when I was in high school, but I couldn't tell you much about our interactions, if we even had any. I do remember my first semester in Bible college, though, when his wife sent me a card letting me know that she and George were praying for me as I ventured into a higher education centered around ministry.

Fast forward four years later, when I returned and through the establishment of one of our children's programs, we were able to minister together. He and his wife worked with the older elementary students and they were great. And through the lovely invention of Timehop--a smartphone app that allows you to look back on your social media pages, several pictures recently surfaced of George working with some boys as he helped them learn memory verses.

That's who George was. He was grounded in the Word of God, and you knew it not just by his actions but because he spoke about it. He openly wore and shared his faith, and he was one of the kindest men I've ever met.

He was one of my dad's good friends, as many times before or after church you would see Dad and George talking, whether in the auditorium or in the Family Center during a potluck or fellowship. They would occasionally go out on visitation with each other, sticking to what we would call an "old fashioned" method of knocking on doors to tell people about Jesus. On those nights, Dad wouldn't get a chance to eat supper but by the time he returned home, he and George had not only enjoyed a nice meal but even better fellowship.

George and his wife would typically sit behind my parents at church, where he would jokingly let us know that he would be watching us to make sure we would behave. But a couple of years ago, he witnessed this random writer practically climb over her family members during an altar call after the preacher had spoken about marriage and--for the single people--praying for a future spouse. And all joking aside, George quietly called me over after the service to let me know that he had been praying and would continue to pray for God's will in bringing me a husband in His timing.

He was a faithful prayer warrior, church member, deacon. He recently added Sunday school teacher back to his impressive list of roles, as he taught a group of elementary boys. And for as long as any of us church members can remember, he was a coffee maker--one of those tasks that would never really be seen or thought about, but that's who George was. He didn't want the credit; he wanted God to get it.

So when we as a church found out he had been hospitalized, we were caught a bit off guard.

And we learned that his conditioned had worsened, we were concerned.

But when we found out that he was doing better and might come home, we rejoiced.

And when we found out that he passed away, we were shocked.

But an amazing thing took place. As people on our church's Facebook page shared their sympathies, all of them had a common theme. George's life portrayed that of godliness, and not one of a pious nature but with the humble heart of a servant. He was kind and friendly and funny, but he wanted people to know about the soul-saving power of Jesus.

And that's how people remember him. What a legacy.

It makes me wonder if I would be remembered that way when I die. Would people's memories only call to mind that I sang at church or recollect what I involved myself with at church? Or would they remember how the spirit of the Lord resonated in my actions and words?

My heart hurts for his wife and the family because of their unimaginable pain and loss. But my spirit is filled with such a peace that I know can only come from God because I know that the last time I saw him at church won't be the last time I'll see him. One of these days, whether I die or Christ comes back for His redeemed, we'll meet again in heaven. Because there was a time in both of our lives where we called on Jesus to save our souls and we each received that gift of eternal life with Christ.

So it's not "goodbye, George," but "see you later." I along with a multitude of others will miss you dearly, but the legacy you left is one that echoes Christ and His goodness. And during sorrowful times like these, the greatness of God is a wonderful thing to cling to.