I’ve been talking a lot lately about my porch swing moments. Have a seat on the porch swing of my life and let me tell you a story about a preacher.
“I believe in giving flowers to people while they are alive. It doesn’t do any good to wait til’ they're gone and send them to the funeral home. They won’t see them then. What I mean by that is if you want someone to know you care, show them while you have a chance. Do it while they are alive. It’s too late when people are gone.” Rev. Earl Ray Johnson
That may not be an exact quote but that is the way I still hear it.
I hear you, preacher.
When I was a very small child, I remember someone said, “That man couldn’t read or write til’ he met Jesus. Once he did that brother could, sure enough, read the Bible and boy he can preach too.” I thought that was strange. How exactly did he “meet” Jesus? Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that he just magically could read. I didn’t know what to think.
We went to a service at this old church. That preacher was preaching. He got up there like most other preachers did. He read the Bible just fine. He got to going and I guess the spirit came or something and he got excited. He got so excited in fact he held one hand over one ear, became louder, and literally ran across the pews. I don’t mean the seats where you put your bottom. I mean the top of those old wooden pews.
I hear you, preacher.
When I was 13, I was at an old church. That preacher was there. It felt like he was preaching on me. I said on me,not to me. I truly thought if I didn’t do something I was gonna be lost forever. I was clinging on to that pew for dear life. I finally let go and I’m so glad I did.
I hear you, preacher.
When I was 15, I took this boy to a fall festival. That preacher was there. He didn’t dress like a preacher. He had on a pair of overalls. The boy I brought with me wasn’t much for church or preachers. I noticed he was standing by the fence talking to the preacher. I walked over there. The boy said, “I’ll tell you one thing, if preachers were more like this fella here, I’d even go to church myself.” That preacher chuckled! He said, “Son, I reckon I’ll see you on Sunday morning. I’m the pastor here.”
I hear you, preacher.
All during my life, that preacher was there. I don’t know where you are from but where I’m from when anything happened the preacher was called. It wasn’t always that preacher but there was always a preacher. I’m serious. If someone was born, died, got sick, got married, or even had a picnic a preacher was called. You didn’t just see your pastor at the church he was a part of your everyday life.
I don’t suppose I ever realized how much time and energy that must have taken. I don’t suppose I realized how much of his own family time was spent pastoring other families.
I hear you, preacher.
Even today, as I sit here thinking about your life I can still hear you. I hear your sermons, I see your face, and most of all I feel the message you preached with your life. Your entire life.
I’ve heard you explain how the light of Jesus that is in you should be like a lighthouse that points other people to Jesus. You can think of it like a landmark. I’ve heard you say, “The people leading you are not always gonna be there. Somebody else is gonna have to step up and take their place. Will it be you?” (Paraphrased)
I hear you, preacher.
In the future, I hope other people have the honor of having an example like you in their lives. I know you weren’t Jesus. I’m sure you are human and weren’t as perfect as you were in my mind. It doesn’t matter. You were a lighthouse and I know you touched the lives of many.
My life, my entire eternity was changed because you chose to obey God. Great is your reward!
I hear you, preacher.
In the end, I know you don’t care about me sending you flowers to your funeral. You said it many times. I think telling other people about Jesus and the message you preached for the Kingdom with your life, I think that is what you would want from me.
I hear you, preacher.
This is my tribute to Rev. Earl Ray Johnson. 1936-2018. I never knew a Godlier man. Christians, keep going. You may help shape someone’s eternity the way he did mine.
And so ends this lesson from my porch swing.
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