Romans 10:14-15
But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’
Dad’s feet are beautiful – he brought good news.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ Dad brought good news through his love of history. Dad loved history. One of my great surprises when I began attending public school was to find out that some people did not spend their vacations going to civil war battlegrounds. Dad and mom loved to learn the heritage of family, of country, and of the Bible. How many of you participated in or witnessed one Dad and Mom’s Last Supper drama’s, Madrigals or Living History Cemetery Stories?
There were times a person would have to scoop the Biblical Archeology magazines and books of Indiana Native Americans off the couch to find a seat. There was always a historical story to be shared or recreated. I knew that they had been to the cemetery to check on our ancestors when the Ford Crown Victory was sagging down to its axels because they had so many broken headstones in the trunk. They would pick up the head stones, restore them and reset them in the ground.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ Dad brought good news through his love of nature. Dad loved God’s creation. Dad loved the beauty of the earth. It’s fitting that across the road from his home of birth, what was the land of his grandfather’s farm is now the Baugo Creek County Park. He fed the deer. He fed the racoons. He chased off the possums. For some reason, they were not invited to the evening feasts of old bread and dog food.
He was an Eagle Scout and attended and worked at Pioneer Scout Camp, on Gordy Lake in Cromwell, Indiana. To be a child or a grandchild of Bill meant that you had to learn to steer a canoe down a river. It was a right of passage.
He loved to communicate with animals. Whenever we would go on a family camping trip. We set-up camp. Mom cooked supper and Dad would pull two quarters out of his pocket. He’d strike them together to make a chirping sound to see if he could raise a chipmunk or squirrel. Dad loved to hike. He led us through the Smokies, the Rockies and the Grand Canyon.
Dad loved cats. This was a love that was passed down to his daughter but did not make it down to his son. But here is the story of the most loved cat. Mom had a stroke just about the time that Dad was retiring from full-time appointment. She became sensitive to animal dander and did not want to have an animal in the house. For years, we would visit and find a “No Pets” sign on the front door.
Then one day a cat showed up and needed their help. He was a gigantic feral cat. This cat was greatly subdued as he sat on their porch as he had a target arrow running through is upper torso. Dad and Mom took him into town. Woke up the vet and waited for the cat to come out of hours long surgery as the arrow was removed and the hole repaired. Of course, he came home. Of course, he could not go outside. Of course, he ruled the house. He was given the name “Con” because he conned death.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ Dad brought good news through his love to create and to recreate. He rebuilt an old fishing cottage at Epworth Forest.
He helped me rebuild a 1941 Plymouth Business Coupe as my first car. Rebuilt an 18ft wood ribbed Old Town canoe. Rebuilt a wood runabout speed boat. If he did not have it, he made it.
He fixed things up for people. He fixed things up for a college girls’ campout. He led or attended many mission trips to St. Thomas, Jamaica, the middle west and Southern states.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ Dad brought good news through his love for Mom. Dad loved Mom. He was the lanky young man, a junior in high school, walking up the to the front door of Betty’s home through a snow drift, not seeing the back doorway that was shoveled out for his arrival. He was there to pick up his date to the winter dance. They married weeks after Mom graduated from high school.
Let me share with you from Dad’s own words. My dad’s love for my Mom was never separate from his love for God. They went hand in hand.
Corinne Reads:
I graduated from Jimtown High School the next May and started to work that July for the New York Central Railroad in the car repair yard at Elkhart. I was driving home one afternoon thinking about driving past Betty’s house when I had a head-on collision with another car.
I awoke in the hospital corridor waiting to go to emergency surgery. I had many stitches. Still, no life-threatening injury. I wondered why I was spared, especially when I heard reports of the other young man, a student from Manchester College, who was still in a coma after many days.
A year later, Betty and I were married and began housekeeping in the basement of our home. At the same time, we worked on finishing the upstairs. The next spring our pastor announced that the church would pay the $25 cost for anyone to attend a Christian vocations conference in Indianapolis on the weekend following Easter. Betty and I decided to go, and it would be an excellent way to get a weekend away.
I signed up for classes on missions, church music, and pastoral ministry. The course on missions was helpful. The class on music was fun as the professor from DePauw, who led it took us to serval different churches to hear their pipe organs. We didn't get back in time to go to the pastoral ministry class. That evening we skipped the recreation session planned and went to a movie. "A Man Called Peter" was playing. It was the story of Dr. Peter Marshall, who was pastor of Washington D.C. Presbyterian Church and who had also been a chaplain of the US Senate.
After praying about it, the following Thursday, we went over to our pastors and told him and his wife we had decided to go into pastoral ministry we felt that was where God wanted us to be.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ Dad brought good news through his love of God. Dad loved God.
Dad loved God with his mind. He was a scholar. I always remember him with a book or two in his hands or by his chair.
He was a shield. He worked long hours at the church. Many nights I woke up to the sound of someone at the door and dad would do out to find a desperate youth. He worked for peace and justice – even in a county seat town. Because of his working with police, the prosecutor and with local drug dealers to bring awareness and resolve to the parents of youth, someone threw a brick through his church office window to warn him off.
Dad enjoyed a good youth party – Mom was the razzle dazzle. Dad was the cheerleader and logistics coordinator. So many youth would gather in our home and dance that the floors gave way. The trustees came to inspect the damage. In a time and a church when dancing and cards where strictly prohibited, the men knew the importance that the youth find Jesus. Rather than condemning the activities, they rebuilt and reinforced the floors so that ministry could continue.
His faith was not just a Sunday morning in front of a congregation faith. He lived it. It was common for us to pick up hitch hikers on the road to Florida to see his dad and stepmom, my grandpa and grandma. Once in Georgia, I think, in the middle of the night, the hitch hiker climbed into the back set with Corinne and I. Dad drove the woman to her hometown.
He was always willing to help someone at the door. Often, it meant that the food came from our cupboards. I do not know how many people followed a call into the clergy or into lay ministry as a result of his saying, “Yes”, to God. I know two really well. My sister and I are testimony to the groundwork of faith that he laid.
‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’
He taught me how to dunk a donut in my coffee.
Taught how to build a campfire.
Taught how to bait a fishing hook with a worm.
Taught how to prime a hand water pump.
Taught how to shoot a rifle and change a tire
Taught how to use a wood rasp and a plainer.
Taught how to use a hand drill.
Taught how to hang drywall.
Taught how to be generous with those asking for help.
Taught how to give an hour and a half of work for an hour of pay.
Taught how to be patient and kind.
Taught how to be humble.
Taught how to practice faith.
Taught how to love people.
Taught how to love God.
‘How beautiful are the feet of the one who brings good news!’
How beautiful are your feet, Dad.
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