But His Name is On My License

Two pastors I know died within about three weeks of each other. One was expected in a way. Bill Wright had been fighting cancer for a while. He was a larger than life character but not larger than cancer. I had heard his days were numbered but I actually didn't hear of his passing for about ten days after the fact. Bill was known for his huge love of Jesus expressed to people and through missions. If you heard him speak to people on the street or in the hall at a conference, "preacher" is the last thing you'd think of. That's one reason I loved the guy. You really weren't special until Bill called you "Dummy" or "Moron." I know that sounds bad but you loved him for it. If I called someone Moron they would want to hit me. If Bill did, you wanted to hug him. Literally thousands were impacted by his ministry of missions, especially to Mexico, on the Texas border, and through disaster relief trucks that he led his church and the state Baptist convention to man and expand. Not surprised but saddened was my reaction when I heard of his death. Another mold was broken... Wayne Oglesby's death was a shock. He was the pastor I had for the last year and a half of my high school days. He was only seven years older than I was. We hung out a lot my last year of high school and the Lord used him to help gentle me toward ministry. He was a good preacher. He was fun. He was thoughtful. He and Lynn took me to my first broadway play. They put up with my dropping by too often. He took me on excursions to the bible bookstore and to my first evangelism conference. When the call came to ministry after graduation from high school, I was ready to hear it largely because of Wayne. When the call came that he had hung himself in the garage I was not prepared to hear that at all. Surpised and saddened and un-nerved was my reaction when I heard he had ended his own life. Wayne had suffered with depression for some time I was told. I would have been too young to notice at 17 or 18 if he had those troubles then. I do know he'd get really down when he considered his own dad's death as a relatively young man. Wayne's last churches before he went to work as a hospice\funeral home chaplain didn't go very well. I don't know all the stories, I just know it was tough. Did the tough churches lead to deeper depression? Did depression make it hard to pastor these churches? I don't know. But his name is on the bottom of my license to the ministry and I was only one of thousands he impacted positively with his life even as depression was eating his life away like an acid. Could I get that depressed seven years from now when I'm 62? I hurt for the two widows, the kids and grandkids. One family hurting for all the right reasons we hurt when someone we love dies. Another family hurts way too soon with way too many questions. I hope and pray God brings peace to both and look forward to the time when cancer and depression take their rightful place-- in the darkest corner of hell. Lord, will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm 62? I'll need You. Cos