HEELCATCHER

John Gardner, 1911-2010

I don’t remember when I first met John Gardner. It must have been shortly after I arrived in New Jersey. John was a faithful member of Sayre Woods Bible Church when I started serving there in 1998.  I can’t remember exactly how we were first introduced or what my first impressions of him were. I guess I just slowly got to know him over time. I do know that we shared the same hometown, Jacksonville, Florida (or at least I was born 30 miles down the road from there), and that was perhaps the initial topic of conversation that started our friendship.

My knowledge, admiration, and friendship with John increased when I started ministering regularly to the Senior Saints at Sayre Woods. A friend of mine started a seniors small group at the church and I was soon recruited to help. When the friend later moved away from the church, the ministry fell into my hands. The unexpected responsibility quickly became a wonderful gift.

John was in that seniors group. Indeed, I would call him the anchor of the group. He set the tone. And at 90+ years of age, he had earned the position of patriarch and the title of “Papa John.” When things got off track or particularly dicey, John had a way of bringing everyone back to the main thing. “It’s all about loving people,” is what he would say. And he meant it. He lived it.

Ever since his wife had died in a hospital and he had witnessed people in hospital rooms with no visitors and no personal care, John resolved to visit people every Wednesday and Sunday in hospitals and nursing homes. He did this faithfully for the next 20+ years of his life. Even at 98 years of age, John was still driving (a bit over of the speed limit I might add) and making his visits. He always said, “When I am too sick or too old to visit people and help them out, then I want God to take me home.”

This past week, God answered that prayer. Liver cancer knocked John off his feet in May. And on June 28, it took his life. Or, perhaps more accurately, John let it take his life. There was no fight. He was ready to leave.

I will never forget John. During those years in NJ, he became my example of the Christian life. My model of a life well lived.

John at a Mets game

I went on six trips with the Senior Saints. Each time I drove the church van and John sat in the front seat beside me. It was his spot. No one dared to sit in it. For hours upon hours, I talked and listened to John. I heard his testimony about coming to Christ, about being so convicted by the Spirit that he couldn’t even watch a Mets baseball game. That’s how serious the conviction was! Finally he got on his knees and told God, “The life that You gave me, I have made a mess of it.” And then he asked Jesus to come into his heart and to be his Lord and his Savior.

I heard about his childhood in Jacksonville, about his respect for his father, about falling in love with his wife, Lillie Mae…especially after he saw her smoking a cigarette of all things. I heard about his dinners as a teenager at a “white man’s house” and his adventurous trip from Jacksonville to the northeast with $5 in his pocket (with a short stay in a jail along the way).

John and Noah in Plymouth, MA

My most precious memory of all was our trip to Plymouth, Massachusetts in 2008. My children went along and one of my sons, Noah, became John’s personal guide and best friend on that trip. I have a picture impressed on my mind of John and Noah walking hand in hand throughout Plimoth Plantation. Almost 90 years separated their lives but they walked together as friends. Noah helping to guide John through the dips and turns of the park…John helping to guide Noah through the dips and turns of life.

Soon all of my boys were wanting to hang around John. After that trip, they never failed to give John a hug as they entered the church each week.

John sat at the entrance of the church auditorium, in his chair, passing out bulletins and hugs each Sunday. Seeing him there reminded me each week what church was all about. “It’s about loving God and loving people.”

If the measure of the Christian life is the fruit of the Spirit, then John Gardner was a true Christian.

Love. John loved God and loved people. No one who met John failed to feel loved and cared for by him.

Joy. I rarely saw John without a smile on his face. Even in the midst of life’s challenges, John found a reason to laugh and rejoice in the Lord.

Peace. John was secure in his relationship with God through Jesus Christ. He was ready to share his testimony with anyone who asked.

Patience. John sat next to another one of my southern friends, Faye, each time the Senior Saints met. Together they were like a comedy team. Faye talking in her slow southern drawl and John playfully hitting her with his cane telling her to speed it up. For some reason, that is my picture of John’s patience. Even when he was impatient, he had a way of making it fun.

Kindness. Caring for people in hospitals and nursing homes was the passion and joy of his life. He loved to tell of the two depressed older ladies in the nursing home who perked up and started wearing make-up and nice clothes again after he started to visit them on a regular basis.

Goodness. John was quite simply a good man, a man whom you enjoyed being around. You never felt uncomfortable around John. I can’t help but think of Proverbs 16:7, When a man’s ways are pleasing to the LORD, he makes even his enemies live at peace with him.

John in his chair holding our son, Joshua

Faithfulness. John woke up at 4:30 every morning to read Psalm 5 and to pray…especially for “the young people.” Even on nights when he stayed up late to watch the Mets lose, John kept his morning appointment with the Lord. His faithfulness to the Mets was only exceeded by his faithfulness to the Lord.

Gentleness. One of my favorite pictures is John holding our newborn baby, Joshua. John never lost his gentle care for children, his southern gentleman-ness with ladies, or his gentle spirit with anyone who crossed his path…unless they were wearing a Yankee cap :>).

Self-Control. A few years ago, John’s house burned down. By the grace of God, he woke up in time to break a window and crawl out to safety. But the real problems began after the fire, when John had to deal with insurance companies, township regulations, bank mortgages, and construction companies. Each week seemed to present a new challenge for a 90+ year old man simply trying to rebuild his house. But he kept his cool and his sense of humor even when the frustration level had to far exceed his energy level. He ran on the power of the Spirit.

So I will dearly miss John Gardner.

By God’s providence, I moved away from NJ just a few days before John’s health concerns began.  For some reason, God spared me from the experience of seeing a man whose strength I greatly admired slowly give way to the merciless, deteriorating effects of cancer. My picture of John remains the same as when I left NJ. I see a gentle giant of a man with a big smile and a quick wit at the entrance of the church handing me a bulletin and giving my wife and kids a hug.

The next time I meet John it will be a similar scene. Only this time I will be walking into the doors of heaven.

I am on the eve of my 42nd birthday. Wow, time flies. I can still remember my 6th birthday party! Making birthday hats out of newspaper and planning a baseball game with my friends with my team obviously stacked with the better players. Birthday parties were always big to me. I guess I liked the attention and the presents. Now, as an almost 42 year old, I am trying to put the brakes on them.

But looking back over the past 42 years, I have seen God’s hand leading me all the way. It is awesome to realize that after all the turns, closed roads, and detours of life, you are right where you are supposed to be.

From Illinois to Green Cove Springs, FL. My parents are from Illinois, but through a job transfer, they ended up in Florida right before I was born. Hearing my parents tell the story, they realize that if they would have stayed in Illinois, their lives (and consequently my life) would have been vastly different. The biggest difference would be in our exposure to the gospel of Jesus Christ. It was in Florida that we all found Christ as our Savior.

From Green Cove Springs to Birmingham, AL. I am the youngest of six….and not ashamed to admit, a momma’s boy. But wouldn’t you know that after feeling called to the ministry at age sixteen, I found myself to be the only one of the six who ventured away from home (at least on a long term basis). That journey began in Birmingham at a small Bible college that I had never heard of…and no one else in my family had either. But it was at Southeastern Bible College that I developed a deeper love and understanding of God’s Word…and met my wife!

From Birmingham to New Orleans, LA. After graduating, I was hired as a part-time youth pastor and pastoral intern in New Orleans. There, my wife and I served for seven years with a couple who would become our mentors in life and in ministry. We also had a chance to play a role in the lives and choices of a great bunch of youth…many of whom are now serving in ministry.

From New Orleans to Dallas, TX. A desire for more education took me from New Orleans to Dallas for seminary. There, my wife also got pregnant with our first child. After over four years of trying to have a baby, with no success and no medical explanation, my wife got pregnant…one month after we had health insurance with maternity benefits for the first time in our lives. Without that medical insurance, we would probably still be paying for my wife’s emergency C-section with that pregnancy.

From Dallas to Old Bridge, NJ. I would have never imagined living in NJ, near New York City, for a significant part of my life. After visiting and driving in NYC once in my life, I remember thinking how glad I was to see NYC in my rear view mirror. Well, wouldn’t you know, that God led us there for twelve years of ministry at a great church…and three more boys!

From Old Bridge to Baton Rouge, LA. Our latest move has brought us back to Louisiana where God’s timing and placement seems to be perfect for us. We feel like we are right where we are supposed to be…at the right time in our lives. God is good.

Last year, my family and I were at a family camp in the Adirondacks of NY. We had a chance to hike up Panther Mountain. We had never hiked the mountain before, but it seemed like a fun adventure. And it was advertised as a “moderate climb.” Well, the climb turned out to be more difficult than we imagined…especially with four young boys. There were slippery areas where the rain had turned part of the trail into mud and slush. There were rough patches where it was hard to navigate the trail. There were steep climbs over large rocks. At one point, I wondered if we would ever make it to the top…or whether the climb was even worth it.  But when we got to the top, the view was incredible. We stayed for quite awhile just taking in the view of the landscape around us and the area we had just climbed. It all made sense at the top. Our view was better. Our perspective was clearer. And my heart had this unique experience of accomplishment, wonder, thankfulness, and awe.

I think that’s what it will feel like when I get to heaven and get the ultimate “mountain top view” of my life and of God’s story.

Our new life has begun in Louisiana…but it still doesn’t quite feel like home.

After three days of travel and 1400 miles, we arrived in Baton Rouge two and a half weeks ago. Actually my wife and I arrived. The kids stayed with grandparents in Alabama for a few days to give us a chance to get the house in a somewhat livable condition.

The Louisiana Welcoming Committee

We hit the ground running…scraping, painting, cleaning, repairing, rearranging and killing roaches. Yes, two nice big ugly roaches greeted us in the bathtub of our new home as if to say, “Welcome back to Louisiana, Yankee boy.” I quickly squashed and disposed of them only to find two more the next morning. After killing them, another one greeted us several hours later in the same bathtub. Hmmm…

Later, my wife called out from the bathroom, “Steve, get in here quickly!” When I arrived, she pointed to the overflow drain in the bathtub. “That’s where they are coming from!” Sure enough, two curious roach heads were popping out of the overflow drain with antennae moving back and forth trying to detect if the tub was worth diving into or not.

A recent trip to Walmart had me prepared for the battle. With a fresh can of Raid in my hand, I started spraying at the overflow drain. The roaches fell into the tub and scurried around…progressively convulsing as the Raid began to take effect. After they expired in the tub, legs up, antennae still twitching, I aimed the Raid nozzle up the overflow drain and began spraying. More roaches began to fall into the tub and commence the convulsive dance. To be merciful, I coated them with more Raid to quicken the death process.

After several minutes, I sat on the toilet seat and rested from my intense battle with Louisiana wildlife. About fifteen roaches lay belly up in my bathtub. I ran water in the tub to move them all into one big brown pile of antennae and hairy legs. Then I found a big plastic cup and scooped them out of the tub and into the trashcan.

The next day my call to the local exterminator moved from #9 on the list to #1.

It’s funny. Roaches are no real danger to humans. They have no sting or venom. Their only real “weapon” is their sheer ugliness. But, oh, their ugliness is effective. I definitely knew that I did not want to be in the shower with a bunch of roaches pouring out of the overflow drain. Sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock movie that I don’t want to see…much less be a part of.

The next few days were hectic. The moving van arrived and the house was flooded with boxes and furniture. Then construction began as we sought to reconfigure a laundry room, pantry, bathroom area. A fine coating of white sheetrock dust covered everything in the house. Meanwhile, outside, the temperature and the humidity rose into the high 80’s each day. Ahhh…..welcome to the bayou.

Things are better now. We are settling in. Most of the boxes have been emptied. The sheetrock dust vacuumed up.  Neighbors have introduced themselves. Kids in the neighborhood have invaded our house almost every day. The south is certainly different in that regard. We have had more visitors at our front door in two weeks than we had in ten years in NJ. Life is friendlier here.

But I am still not at home. It still feels strange.

Time will help. In a few months/years, this will be the new “norm.” Routines will be established. Roads will be memorized. Relationships will become familiarized. Baton Rouge will feel more like home. I may even become a rabid LSU fan.

But more and more in life I am realizing that this earth will never satisfy. It will never feel like “home.” No matter where you live, life changes. Time marches forward. And you can’t hold onto anything. Nor can you give in to the illusion that the next new thing or the next big move will bring ultimate contentment.

C.S. Lewis talked about that too. He said, “If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

That longing for something more…that hunger for something that lasts…that desire for relationships that never end…is our thirst for heaven, for God’s presence, for eternal, unchanging, unquenchable joy. And earth can’t quench that kind of thirst.

You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand. (Psalm 16:11)

And on top of that, heaven doesn’t have roaches.

Our move to Baton Rouge is getting closer. We leave in one week. This is my last Sunday at Sayre Woods.

I knew that moving would be difficult. Selling a house, buying a house, packing up, throwing out, closing accounts, opening accounts, dealing with lawyers, mortgage companies, realtors, insurance underwriters, and township officials. Every day seems to have brought a new hurdle or obstacle to overcome.

But with all the stress of moving, the biggest difficulty has been saying good-bye.

It feels like a kind of death. You know you will see people again but the relationships will change. The daily interaction will end. Yes, there is now Facebook, email, Skype, cell phones, and a host of other things to make the distance seem less far. But there really is no substitute for personal, face-to-face interaction and the shared life of a common location.

I have moved before…from Florida to Alabama, Alabama to Louisiana, Louisiana to Texas, Texas back to Louisiana, Louisiana to New Jersey…and now back to Louisiana. It is the “now back” part that seems harder than the others.

Having a family changes the moving experience. When I was alone or when my wife and I were newly married, every move seemed like a new adventure. We were mobile. Our peers were mobile. Life was constantly in flux. But with a family…and a little more aging, things change. The roots grow deeper. You become more settled, more stable, more intertwined with relationships. Leaving hurts more.

Someone told me recently, “If leaving were easy, then you would know that your relationships were weak. When leaving is hard, you know that your relationships are strong.” It is a shame that oftentimes we don’t know how strong our relationships are until we say good-bye.

After St. Augustine lost some of his closest relationships and struggled with the grief, he commented that nothing in this world lasts, thus we shouldn’t grow too attached to anything…even people. C.S. Lewis, 1500 years later, would vehemently disagree with Augustine. Lewis’ quote is one of my favorites:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside heaven you can be perfectly safe from all dangers and perturbations of love is hell.

Saying good-bye is never easy…but as Christians we hold onto the hope that saying good-bye is never forever. One day the reunion will last for eternity…without the threat of death, the selfishness of sin, or the ache of separation. That is the beauty of heaven.