When I woke up this morning, I had no plans to write a blog post today.
Then I went to Sunday School (via Zoom) and heard one of our Wilshire pastoral residents, Ashley Robinson, share about the saints in her life on this All Saints Sunday.
After Sunday School, Joanna and I went to worship (via Wilshire’s YouTube channel) and heard – as is Wilshire’s tradition every All Saints Day – the names of Wilshire saints who have gone to be with the Lord during the past year, read by George Mason and Jessica Capps.
Then this afternoon, I viewed the memorial service (via Royal Lane Baptist Church’s YouTube channel) of my dear friend Ray Vickrey.
Twice today I broke down crying . . . once, when George Mason read the name of his father-in-law, Bill O’Brien, who had become a dear friend to me in recent years, and whose death in February of this year obviously continues to grieve me; and then at the very end of Ray’s memorial service, which was beautiful and inspiring, as the screen once again displayed his photo and the service concluded with video of Ray offering a benediction in a worship service years ago.
Somewhere during the day, probably during Ray’s service, I realized that I needed to write about the saints I have personally lost this year . . . people who have made an outsized impact on my life . . . people who I miss . . . people who are rejoicing in Christ’s presence even as those of us left behind mourn the loss of their fellowship in this life.
With all the other stuff going on in our communal lives in 2020 – the pandemic, which has killed, sickened, frightened, and inconvenienced; the presidential campaign, which has left our nation divided and demoralized; and more – I may well remember 2020 most for the sheer number of special people whose fellowship I’ve lost this year through death.
So this is my very brief tribute to commemorate each of these special people and the impact they made on me. It’s my personal “roll call” of saints who have moved on during the past year, presented in chronological order of their death.
DAROLD MORGAN (December 11, 2019)
Darold was a longtime pastor and denominational worker, at one time president of the old Southern Baptist Sunday School Board. I first met Darold in 2008, when I joined the Board of Trustees of the T. B. Maston Foundation, on which Darold also served. But I got to knowing Darold best after I joined a monthly lunch bunch – consisting mostly of Baptist pastors (moderate-progressive Baptist pastors, that is), who call their group the “Geezers.”
I’ll smile, remembering Darold’s delightful sense of humor (to see Darold and Dean Dickens gently needling each other was always entertaining). In our Geezers discussions, Darold quite often took a view contrary to any consensus view that might seem to be developing, but never dogmatically and always with humility and respect. One thing I miss is his greeting whenever I arrived; the way he’d put out his hand to me, and warmly say, “Hello, friend.”
One day last December, I called Darold to offer him a ride to Geezers the next day. I was anticipating the time we would have together in the car, the questions I wanted to ask him about his career in ministry. His daughter-in-law answered the phone and gave me the sad news that Darold had passed away a few hours earlier.
I had the feeling that Darold was getting one last laugh on me – he was celebrating with the Lord while I was having to wait for my own entry to heaven to have that conversation with him. And I will! I have my questions ready for when I see him again.
BILL O’BRIEN (February 1, 2020)
I had heard of Bill O’Brien and his missions ministry for decades. Somewhere in the early to mid-2000s, I heard Bill speak at a Texas Baptists Committed event and was amazed and humbled as I heard him speak about the future of global missions. The depth of his knowledge was something to behold.
I first met Bill when I attended an interfaith dinner, around 2009-2010, at which my pastor, George Mason, was to be recognized. When George arrived, he came over and sat at my table and introduced me to Bill O’Brien, who had recently married George’s mother-in-law. I mentioned that my brother-in-law, Palmer McCown, was a friend of his, and Bill said, “Yes, and I knew your dad, too.”
Not long after that, I joined “Geezers,” where Bill was a regular presence, and we got to spend a lot of time visiting with each other. I loved Bill’s contributions to our Geezers monthly discussions . . . he was always filled with valuable insight. Also, around 2015 or so, I attended a Friends of Truett Seminary dinner at the Baylor Club during the BGCT annual meeting, and Bill and I wound up sitting next to each other. We had a great visit before the program began, and I had the opportunity to tell him some of my own “story” through the years. He was surprised to learn that my degree was in music/vocal performance. Bill had been Wilshire’s first music minister back in the 1950s.
Bill was brilliant but humble and gentle. I think I got an insight into one reason behind his brilliance . . . he was always willing to admit what he did NOT know and discuss his struggles with questions and issues – whether theological, ethical, political, or whatever. He was always seeking to learn and eager to wrestle with difficult and thorny questions . . . and he inevitably came down on the side of grace.
BOB STEPHENSON (March 20, 2020)
I first met Bob in 2006, when I joined the Texas Baptists Committed (TBC) Board of Directors, where Bob had already served for a number of years.
Bob, who lived in Norman, OK, had started an oil business from practically scratch in the 1960s and had turned it into a personal fortune. Bob plowed a great deal of that fortune into “moderate” Baptist causes. He hated the way the Fundamentalist faction had betrayed Baptist principles and turned the Southern Baptist Convention into an arm of the Republican Party. Early on, he was a hugely significant contributor to Texas Baptists Committed.
By the time I became executive director of TBC in January 2011, TBC was severely strapped for funds. Typically, Bob Stephenson stepped forward. He made a five-year commitment of $80,000 per year, which ensured me a salary and also paid for a part-time financial manager, Jill Faragher, as well as providing for expenses for our annual breakfast, and other expenses.
But Bob’s value to TBC and to me went far beyond money.
What I miss most about Bob are our talks on the phone. When I called to update him on TBC’s latest activities and initiatives, Bob told me, on more than one occasion, “Bill, you don’t have to call and tell me what you’re doing. I trust you to do what’s right, so don’t feel that you have to tell me.” But, as I reminded him, I WANTED to keep him informed, because I felt he deserved it. After we were through talking about TBC, we would discuss the latest Baptist goings-on in general, maybe talk a little Baptist (and Baptist battles) history, and then we usually got around to talking Democratic politics and bashing the Republicans – that was just one more thing Bob and I had in common, our conviction that the Democratic party best reflected the values of Christ.
And if it was football season, you can bet Bob would talk a little OU football (and I would remind him that my dad had been a University of Texas grad, so I had to stick with the Longhorns). We would usually talk an hour or more, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Talking with Bob was fun for me, and I always learned from him. Most of all, though, he was an encourager to me; if I needed a little “push,” a little inspiration to keep fighting the good fight, all I had to do was spend a little time with Bob Stephenson.
CHARLOTTE WARE (June 5, 2020)
I didn’t know Charlotte nearly as well as I know her husband, Weston. I served with Weston, who received his Th.D. under T. B. Maston, on the Maston Foundation Board for several years, and he is one of my favorite people. However, Charlotte was a CHARTER member of that Board back in the 1980s, when my dad, Jase Jones, served as Board chair.
My encounters with Charlotte were almost always when she was with Weston at Maston Award Dinners and Maston Lectures at Hardin-Simmons. But it didn’t take much for me to recognize her as a person of great grace who lived that grace in all her relationships. I also saw an exemplary marriage at work in the love that she and Weston shared. She suffered from Alzheimer’s in her later years, and Weston went to see her every day. Eventually, Weston shared with me, her disease had progressed to the point that she recognized Weston only as “that nice man who comes to see me every day”; and Weston continued to faithfully spend time with her, and I have a feeling there was still some recognition down deep in Charlotte’s soul that this was the love of her life. May we all know such love as these two shared.
BABS BAUGH (June 14, 2020)
Babs was on the Texas Baptists Committed Board of Directors when I joined it in January 2006, and that’s how I first met her. We shared with each other the rich Baptist heritage of our parents, particularly our fathers. In 2007, our dads passed away within just a few months of each other, and her mom passed away the same year; and we found ourselves talking together about the wonderful legacy our parents had left us.
That same year, my son Travis and I sat at breakfast with Babs and her husband, John Jarrett, during the Mainstream Baptist Network Convocation. I was so glad that Travis got to meet Babs, for whom I had already gained deep respect and affection, and that Babs and John got to meet Travis.
Babs had left the TBC Board by the time I became executive director in 2011. Actually, to be technically accurate, the Board had named me associate executive director in January 2011; I think there was still a natural hesitancy to name someone with my little experience in Baptist leadership to the title worn by David Currie for over 20 years. David had led the successful fight to prevent a Fundamentalist takeover of the Baptist General Convention of Texas, so I fully understood the Board’s hesitancy to name anyone executive director until they earned the title.
For two years, I led TBC with the title of associate executive director. At the end of 2012, I went to the Board and said, essentially, you’re either happy with my leadership or you aren’t. If you’re satisfied with what I’ve done, then it’s time to name me executive director. If you’re not, then I’ll move on so you can find someone else, and there will be no hard feelings on my part.
Well, they unanimously voted to name me executive director, effective January 1, 2013. A few weeks later, TBC received a donation, with a note attached, reading: “Dear Bill: We are so pleased to know that you are executive director of Texas Baptists Committed. Congratulations . . . to the Board for making such a good choice! It is my pleasure to enclose a check from the Baugh Foundation for $25,000 to be used in whatever way you see fit to help keep Texas Baptists free and faithful. Thanks for all you do – Blessings, Babs”
What special affirmation – from a person I came to consider the most deeply Baptist person I’ve ever known!
I loved my talks with Babs. Our conversations usually centered on Baptist principles and the latest violations of them. We loved talking Baptist politics with each other. I always came away from talking with Babs, feeling humbled. As strong a Baptist as I consider myself – and I do – I always found Babs to be even more passionate, if that’s possible, about defending Baptist principles than I am.
Babs was a great friend and encourager to me. I frequently ran into Babs and John at CBF and other Baptist events, and always loved the opportunity to visit with them.
By the time of my retirement dinner in August 2018, Babs’s health had grown precarious. Several days before the dinner, she emailed me, as well as my pastor, George Mason (who had initiated the idea of giving me a retirement dinner), to let us know that she had tried every which way to be able to come. Unfortunately, John had another commitment, Jackie would be on a trip overseas, and they – along with her doctor – had made it very clear that she was NOT to travel to Dallas alone for the dinner.
However, the week before the dinner, George and Kim were in San Antonio visiting their grandchildren (and Cameron and Garrett, too, of course), and George had the wonderful notion of going over to see Babs and using his phone to record a video message from Babs to me, which was shown at the dinner – to my surprise and delight. For Babs Baugh to pay tribute to me is beyond my comprehension – it should always be the other way around, me paying tribute to her! She spoke in a meandering stream-of-consciousness mode, but the gist was that she always thought of me in terms of initials . . . acronyms like TBC, CBF, BGCT, and so forth, of all the Baptist groups I had dealt with over the years. Of course, the same could be said of Babs, many times over, because her influence was felt far, wide, and deep in Baptist life.
She was my friend, and I miss her.
WILKIE SOO (June 21, 2020)
Wilkie was the son of Joanna’s oldest sister, Rossana. In June, the morning after Father’s Day, Rossana called to tell us that Wilkie had died suddenly the night before. At 48 years of age, he had suffered a massive stroke and died in the ambulance on his way to the hospital. A few days later, we learned that the autopsy had revealed that the stroke resulted from the rupture of an arteriovenous malformation (AVM) in Wilkie’s brain, the very same cause of our son Travis’s stroke in 2013. Travis survived and is still with us today; Wilkie died almost immediately.
I remember Joanna telling me, soon after we met in the fall of 1972, about her new baby nephew. I first got to meet him and his big sister, Wyman, at our wedding when he was about 4-1/2. He was a bundle of energy then and remained so until his death. He loved life and he loved his family.
His family had immigrated from Hong Kong to Toronto, Ontario, just a few months before our wedding. He and his dad, David, became big hockey fans but never really got into baseball – my favorite sport – until 1987. Our family visited them that summer, when Wilkie was 15. I took Wilkie out to old Exhibition Stadium, which was just off of Lake Ontario, to see the Toronto Blue Jays play the Kansas City Royals. That night, Wilkie fell in love with baseball, just as I had 25 years earlier when my dad took me to see my first major league ballgame after we moved to Kansas City. He soon infected his dad with “baseball fever,” and they became big Blue Jays fans. For the past 25 years or so, Wilkie and I had a friendly steak dinner bet on which of our teams – the Blue Jays or the Rangers – wound up with the best record. Living so far apart, neither of us ever collected on our bet, but we loved joking about it and needling each other about our teams. Wilkie especially loved rubbing it in when his Blue Jays beat my Rangers in the playoffs two years straight (2015-16).
What I’ll most remember about Wilkie, though, is his generous spirit. He was always looking for opportunities to help others. His dad, David, who died of cancer in 2006, was the same way. The acorn didn’t fall far from the tree. We miss both of them in our family.
HARDY CLEMONS (July 1, 2020)
I knew Hardy even less than I knew Charlotte Ware. In fact, as far as I can recall, I met Hardy only a couple of times. The first was at CBF General Assembly a few years ago. We were both between workshops, on our way to the next selection; I spotted Hardy just about to get on the down escalator, and I introduced myself. He was familiar with my work with TBC and Weekly Baptist Roundup. As for me, I had heard many of my pastor friends talk about Hardy and his influence on them.
The second time I met Hardy was at the reception following the memorial service for Dan Williams at First Baptist, Austin. Dan, who was one of my very best friends, passed away in 2016 after battling prostate cancer for many years. I shared with Hardy that, in my many, many conversations – including over coffee, lunch, etc. – with Dan through the years, it was rare that Dan didn’t say, at least once during our get-together, “Hardy once said, . . .” or “Hardy used to tell me . . .” and pass along some nugget of wisdom he had gleaned from Hardy Clemons. For people like Hardy Clemons, I imagine that was the best compliment you could give him, because it seems that he was all about touching people’s lives, helping them find their way.
RANDY GALLAWAY (September 10, 2020)
Randy died in September, at 73, of complications during surgery for an infection. I first met Randy in the mid-1990s when he came to speak to the Royal Ambassadors group at our then-church in Plano. Travis was in RAs at the time, and I was one of the leaders. I was amazed, as were the boys, to hear Randy’s testimony that night. He told of an accident that occurred in 1966, when he was 18 years old, that drastically changed his life.
Randy was repairing an electrical transformer at an oil-field equipment factory, when another worker saw the power switch was off and – without stopping to think that it might be off for a reason – turned it back on. Randy was tightening a bolt with both hands when the power came back on, sending 13,000 volts coursing through his body. It lit his clothes on fire and knocked him off a 15-foot platform on the roof. His partner was killed instantly. That Randy survived was truly a miracle – he had suffered two broken ribs, and severe burns on his hands, arms, back, and right side. His left hand and entire right arm were virtually destroyed and had to be amputated.
His testimony was to God’s grace. Two years – and 38 surgeries and skin grafts – later, he was fitted with a prosthetic right arm and a metal “hook” left hand. After enrolling at the University of Texas at Arlington and finding “a loving family of friends” in the Baptist Student Union there, Randy felt God calling him to a ministry in student work. His ministry ultimately took him down many different paths, including his most recent ministry, leading Partners in Development Worldwide.
I don’t recall exactly how Randy and I became friends, but somehow we continued to connect through the years after meeting at RAs that night in the mid-1990s. I ran into Randy and Mary Ann occasionally at BGCT annual meetings and got to visit with them some there. The last time I spoke with Randy was, as I recall, basically just a time to “catch up” with each other’s lives, probably 4 or 5 years ago. Randy suggested we Skype, which was my first time to use that application. Somehow, we made it work and had a great chat, viewing each other remotely.
What I’ll most remember about Randy is that he was always upbeat, always smiling, and – especially – always offering encouragement. A special spirit.
RAY VICKREY (September 17, 2020)
Ray and I weren’t close, we didn’t spend any appreciable time together. But any time I got to see him was a joy.
We met over the phone in 2002, and Ray occupies a very special place in my life.
For almost 20 years now, I’ve moved from one area of Baptist leadership to another, deeply involved in Baptist life. However, when I got a phone call from Ray in 2002, practically no one in Baptist leadership had ever heard of me. For years I had followed the Baptist battles and discussed them at length with my dad, who had helped form – and then chaired for over a decade – the T. B. Maston Foundation and had many good friends who were at the center of the moderate side of the “controversy.” But I had been on the sidelines, reading the Baptists Today newsjournal, the Texas Baptists Committed newsletter, BJC’s Report from the Capital, etc.; my only involvement in fighting the Baptist battles was in my home church in Plano, where I often – mostly in Sunday School classes, when I felt it was appropriate to the discussion – tried to tell people how the Fundamentalist SBC leadership was violating historic Baptist principles. I would take issue with people who argued for the notion of a “Christian nation,” and so forth. But mostly I received nothing but blank stares. They didn’t want to know about these things.
In 2000, I had written David Currie of my concerns that my church was going in the direction of Fundamentalism, and we soon began talking regularly about these issues.
Nevertheless, nothing prepared me for the phone call I answered in February 2002. Hard to believe now, but I had never heard of Ray Vickrey, George Mason, or hardly any other “moderate” Baptist pastors in the Metroplex, other than Jim Denison. The voice on the other end identified himself as Ray Vickrey, pastor of Royal Lane Baptist Church in Dallas. He then asked whether I would be interested in serving on “the executive board.” Friends, I was so ignorant of almost anything in Texas Baptist life that I had no idea what he could be talking about.
So I asked, “WHAT executive board?” He replied, “The Baptist General Convention of Texas executive board.” Huh? Me? So then I asked, “Where in the world did you get MY name?” He replied, “David Currie.”
Years later, when I started running into Ray occasionally at one Baptist meeting or another, I would always remind him of that phone call, and we would share a laugh at the innocence (ignorance?) of my question, “WHAT executive board?” (By the way, I did accept the offer and served a 3-year term on ‘the executive board,’ my entrée into Texas Baptist leadership – AND Texas Baptist politics!)
I’ll remember Ray by his warm smile that would light up any room, and his gentle laugh. He’s one friend who I really wish I had had the opportunity to know better.
At this point, though, suffice it to say that Ray was the first person to ask me to get involved actively in Baptist leadership. There have been many more over the past 18-1/2 years, but if Ray hadn’t called to offer me that opportunity, the rest might never have come along. After viewing his beautiful memorial service this afternoon, I get the idea that there are many more in places of service today who have Ray Vickrey to thank for the opportunity. He was that kind of Baptist – inclusive, welcoming, and loving.