"That Word"

In January of 1990, having just turned 30, I accepted a job as Minister of Music in a large church. The reason I was offered the job was the pastor, who had decided to take a chance on me in spite of my youth. I worked alongside him for the next ten years.

If you have read the last few posts, you know that I have been among a large group of friends who are lamenting the life-threatening disease that has overwhelmed a close friend. That close friend is the pastor who hired me at 30, and who became a colleague I admired, a pastor I trusted and a friend I loved. Less than a year ago he found a suspicious lump under his arm. It turned out to be metastatic melanoma, the same thing that took the life of his mother when she was only 50.

For the last several days I have tried to put my thoughts in order. I think I'm ready now to speak about my friend, and this blog is my best choice for a forum in which to do so. I can't speak verbally for the lump that comes into my throat. It's better that I write. And I want to tell you some specific instances in my experience with this pastor that will give you a glimpse into why he is so dearly loved by his friends and family.

Philip Wise grew up in Andalusia, Alabama. His intellect quickly became his calling card. He excelled, and not just at his favorite subjects. He excelled at anything he thought about. His wasn't a memorizing intellect, suitable for attaining high test scores. His was an understanding, analyzing, digesting intellect. And it was coupled with a strong competitive streak that was displayed on the basketball court.

As a student in high school and at Samford University Philip experienced a growing sense that he desired to serve God, and that God desired for him to be a minister. He pursued the study of theology, becoming well-known for his keen understanding, and eventually traveling to Oxford University for three years of intense study.

A return to south Alabama and the pastorate led to the convergence of our paths at the First Baptist Church of Dothan, Alabama. Here are some specific instances I remember from that time.

I remember a time when a church member who was having a combination of health and professional problems disappeared. He didn't leave any clues, and his family and friends were understandably upset. I was at their house with a large group of people, all trying to help, and all adding a little to the growing hysteria. I remember Philip walking in and assessing the situation. He listened to all the conjecture about what might have happened, each guess getting more extreme. He listened to the family members who were grasping for some idea of what to do. And then, from his great intellect came the right words, in the form of a simple question: "What do we know?" Everyone looked around, and all the crazy conjecture stopped, and he repeated the question. The answer was that we knew our friend was gone, and we wanted to find him. So we all turned around and left the house to find our friend, who turned up a little dazed and confused a few hours later. A lot of people would have loved to have a pastor who empathized to the point of validating the hysteria. But God, in mercy, gave us a pastor whose intellectual ability led him to say the words that turned the situation around.

I remember another time when one of those scandals happened that people love to watch in the church. Another pastor had been caught in a very public morality lapse. And this other pastor was a person to whom Philip had been unfavorably compared by a few detractors. As the press went on their field day, trying to get a comment out of any of us who would speak to them, Philip set the example of not ever speaking an unkind word about the other minister. But I learned later that he had spent the entire previous night with that pastor and his family. He had listened and ministered to them and never said a word about it. There was great profit to be had on the low road, but he and his words stayed on the high road.

And I remember a time of tragedy, when one of Philip's closest college friends who belonged to our church had a massive heart attack and passed away on a Saturday night. When I arrived at work at 7:00 on Sunday morning I found Philip looking pale and upset, and learned that he had been up all night with the family of his friend. The funeral was the largest our church had ever seen, with an overflow crowd who were all so stricken with the grief of the loss of this young, good man. I sat right behind the pulpit, and had a view of the extraordinary effort it took for Philip to deliver the funeral sermon. I saw his white knuckles as he gripped the sides of the pulpit, and his shuffling feet as he nervously shifted his weight, like a prize-fighter with everything on the line. I remember marvelling at his strength. And then I remember the final words of the sermon.

Philip gripped that pulpit and set out to recite the hymn, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." I could hear the lump growing in his throat, and see his grip tightening on the pulpit. He relied on the words of Martin Luther to bring truth to an inexplicable situation. And he made it through all four verses. He displayed that intellect and strength that had sustained him through the impossibly difficult task of pastoring. And when he didn't have words of his own that would suffice, he turned to the greatest hymn he knew.

Now we all stand around the bed of our frail, weak friend and don't know what to say. So I say this:

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little WORD shall fell him.

That WORD above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

Philip, your friends are gripping the pulpit, shuffling our feet, and wishing we had a little of your legendary strength. You always had the right words. Because you always had the right Word. As your battle nears its end we wish you peace, and thank God for the way you've strengthened us.