FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: Mem’ries of a song leader, a folded paper, and a friend
Welcome to the “front porch.”
Every time I come to the modest church building in Lexington, Oklahoma, I find a newspaper from the Purcell Register in my pew. That newspaper has miraculously appeared every week for quite a few years.
The paper’s appearance actually isn’t miraculous. A church gentleman – Mr. Ron Gilley, a longtime friend of ours – made sure that I had a copy of the paper, because the paper always contained the weekly column that we have been writing for that paper since 2008.
Providing a copy of our column in the paper isn’t the only thing I’ve grown to expect from my friend Ron. Although he was a shy man generally – especially in standing in front of the church – he was an avid song-leader. Often such men are the most effective in public service, their humility providing a more encouraging welcome than a man of more able rhetoric. I particularly liked when Ron would open the services and welcome the visitors because it was always like a cheerful entry up to God's throne for worship.
His ‘claim to fame’ as a song leader was the tempo with which he led the song. He “picked ‘em up and laid ‘em down,” as we say. If you wanted to keep pace with him, you’d better step it up a little yourself. That’s another reason I liked him to open the services. That meant he also led the first song. Nothing worse than having a draggy song to open up a service, except maybe a draggy song before you try to stand up to preach. A draggy song can be a hard thing to overcome.
Brother Ron made an art out of song-leading. In our frequent visits at his and his wife Peggy’s home, Ron often would pull out his songbook that he had sitting by his recliner; and it had a hundred pages, I guess, turned down. He studied songs carefully to choose the best one for the upcoming service. I remember that on one of the last times he arranged the singing service, he asked me, “Do you have a song I can lead for you today?” He knew I always had a song in mind for the sermon. Often, though, he would sit down, read the sermon outline on the chalkboard, and find a song that would fit that particular theme. He never failed to choose the perfect tune.
As it is with most song leaders, though, he had his ‘old faithful’ songs to lead. You’ll recognize them readily: “Whispering Hope,” “Where Could I Go,” “Paradise Valley,” “Farther Along” and “The Last Mile of the Way.”
I think he knew I loved “Farther Along” because I would belt out the tenor as best I could on that song. But he also would lead “Paradise Valley” because it had an alto lead in the chorus. Any time he saw that the amazin’ blonde was with me that Sunday – as she usually is – he would pull that one out because she has a strong alto voice and can really belt it out.
Oh, there are some other songs, too, that will make me think of my friend Ron every time I hear them: There’s “Precious Mem’ries,” – ah, he loved that one – and there’s “How Beautiful Heaven Must Be.” Ron always was curious about what heaven is going to be like, and he would especially like it when I’d preach on heaven and talk about Paul’s journey up to the third heaven and up to Paradise. For the first Sunday of January 2020 we talked on heaven, and its title, as you might guess, was “How Beautiful Heaven Must Be.” You won’t have to wonder what song brother Ron led that morning, and you won’t have to worry about its being draggy, either.
My last visit with Ron was on the first weekend of December. He had given a message to Marilyn to relate to me; then when we visited their home before heading back to Texas (Ah, we spent hours and hours in Ron and Peggy’s home sharing conversation and a downhome meal), we went by to see them. Usually on such visits I’d forewarn him that we’re coming over. Actually, I’d just walk over to his pew before church and ask if he had any buttermilk; and he’d put a big smile on his face and tell me he just bought a jug and has it ready. He made the best jalapeno cornbread; and he and I are two of the few in this part of the country who share a great love for buttermilk and cornbread.
Once in their home, he would sit at one end of their modest kitchen table, I on the other, with the ladies on the sides; and he’d always motion for me to say the prayer. It was a special time together, and we enjoyed it monthly for years and years. We all must have stood by the front door and had a prayer together a hundred times, because it is one of the great privileges when you visit a home to ask for a blessing upon that home before leaving. I think that quiet time together with friends is a greater time than any sermon you’ll ever preach.
On that last visit, Ron had something else in mind besides our sharing some cornbread and buttermilk. He had reached the latter stages of bone cancer; and while he was still up and about fairly well, he knew that his battle was almost complete. We were packed to go home to Texas, so the amazin’ blonde and I did not even sit down on this visit. We knew, too, our usual three-hour visit would not be possible in his weakened condition.
I stood before him – like a son standing before a father to receive his final instructions – and he said, “I want you to do the service for me when that time comes.” He said it with the same enthusiasm as he would say, “Do you have a song you’d like for me to lead?” That was something he could do for me, this was something that I might do for him. The request is more than a selection of a speaker, it’s an invitation to share the love and friendship we had, one last time.
I think it is one of the greatest requests anyone has ever made to me. You take it, seal it away, and carry it with you the rest of your life. (Even though providence, and another stood ably in that place that day, my friend’s gesture was one I’ll always remember.)
He also asked for prayer that cold winter afternoon, and we all had one last sweet prayer together, as we had done so many times before.
Soon thereafter, Ron walked the last mile of the way, just as he sang for all of those years. The hour came that he could know what lay ‘farther along.’ The time had come to turn his ‘whispering hope’ into sight. Heaven, surely, has another song leader, and the angels will not have to worry that the new singer will drag the song up there.
In a few days, we will take our trip back up north and walk for the first time since that night into the church building where we shared so many of these memories. I will take my seat when the time to start that first song, and I am sure I will glance down the pew, expecting to see a folded newspaper with this very column you’re reading in it. I will have to sigh just a bit when I see that it is not there. But it will be a sigh with a smile, not regret, for with it will come some very fond, precious memories.
For as long as I take that seat, those memories will linger, and they will flood our soul – those old memories of a folded newspaper, an energetic song leader, and a good friend.
Coach Steven Bowen, a long-time Red Oak teacher and coach, now enjoys his time as a full-time writer and preacher of the gospel. In addition to his evangelistic travels, he works and writes for the Church of Christ of Red Oak at Uhl Road and Ovilla. Their worship times are 10 a.m. Sundays and 7:30 pm. Wednesdays. Email coachbowen1984@gmail.com or call or text 972-824-5197.