News of his death, on March 6, was not a surprise, not unwelcome, but still a heavy moment for us. He and Adele were close all their lives. We should not be surprised or sorry that their deaths were so close together.

     I have shuffled through a pile of correspondence, sermons and prayers of John Paul’s.  When someone you’ve known long and well dies, there is a longing to take hold of something connected to them.

     There is a longing to do one more thing, and the hope that you did and said everything you wanted to do and say because now it’s too late.

     We plan to attend the memorial service at Laguna Hills in April.  No doubt there will be comments about his achievements, and there were plenty. There will be memories of his preaching, his encouraging outlook, his care for people. If we haven’t told him how much he was appreciated, there’s no use making a service longer by doing so now.

     In spite of what I just said, I gathered up some of his prayers—only seven of them—and some of the things he said in sermons about his personal life, and had a booklet printed. It will be available at the Memorial Service and to people who remember him in former pastorates.  I also sent some material to “The Disciple” magazine, because his story is one that is worth telling.

     His rise from a mission Sunday school at Bethany, West Virginia where he was raised by a single parent, working to help support his family from age 10, responding to the invitation to be a Christian at age 8—walking down the aisle in bare feet on the bare wood floor—is a dramatic story. Going to school after dropping out to work, graduating from Bethany College and Yale Divinity School, receiving honorary degrees from Bethany, Pacific School of Religion, and Chapman were unimaginable accomplishments for that little boy from West Virginia.

     John Paul’s sermons ring with faith in the Power that lifted him up and never let him down.  Rather than hear stories about how high he was lifted, his wish would be that somehow we report how faith in God is more abundant and dependable than we can imagine or understand.  He lived and declared that faith past his 92nd year. He would like us to declare it as well.  On occasions, when things were not as bright as he might like, John Paul would say, “Hallelujah, anyhow!”

     When I left off being a major player in the system religion business, John Paul was very disappointed. His disappointment hurt me as much as anything else in that whole process. I was disappointed myself.  He had looked upon me as his leading “Timothy,” from whom he expected more and greater things.  As we began to do whatever we do in Moment Ministries, John Paul kept track. We had an ongoing correspondence.  He became a supporter and encourager, financially and otherwise.  In fact, he seemed to have more idea that we were doing something of significance than I did.  You miss people who feel that way about you.

     The highest compliment to people is not to brag about the them, but to emulate them.  I’m sure Jesus did not want people to praise or worship him, but to do as he did and taught.  Remembering John Paul as an encourager doesn’t do much, but becoming an encourager honors him. Another thing I remember about John Paul is his continual study and thinking.  During one of our last visits he gave me a book he had just finished, “Modern European Thought – 1600 – 1950.”  Many pages were heavily marked with comments like, “Great!” “Important!” “Key!” “Yes!” We can celebrate such a thoughtful mind by giving attention to our own mental development.

     Yes, lots of memories from a half-century of relationship, lots of things to praise.  But more than that, lots of deep and faith-full living to carry on.