by Scott Klaft

Created on: July 23, 2008

"Hello there, young man. Grab-you-a chair from the garage and have a seat," the elderly gentleman said in his usual booming yet pleasant tone. He was sitting on a lawn chair at the top of his freshly blacktopped driveway cutting beans recently pulled from his garden. At the age of 27, I was a new Christian, living alone in West Tennessee without friend or family for hundreds of miles. Upon first meeting him at the church building, I was struck by this man's sincerity when he invited me to stop by his home some time since it was on the way coming back from my job. I soon made a habit of dropping by and he always had that same elastic grin when my beat up old car rumbled into his drive. He was almost always outdoors, working in his garden, stacking cordwood, feeding his pets, or mowing the lawn. His precious wife would always insist that I stay for lunch, and the conversation was always a premium quality.

He never claimed any formal training, but his knowledge of the Bible was outclassed by very few experienced preachers, and I would tap his keen mind and drink deep from the reservoirs of his intellect. For being 73 years old, his wit had dulled not one iota. When I might advocate a position seeking to find its weakness, he was always prepared with scripture references and logical reasoning to set me straight. Once in a while, our voices would raise and the discussion would get heated, but nary was an unkind word exchanged. We would never depart on a sour note, and once in a while, we would have to laugh when his sprightly wife would rebuke us from the kitchen where lunch was preparing.
There were many things I learned from this man that changed me heart and soul. He may not have been the first to teach me the gospel, neither was he the one who convinced me to obey it, but he was every bit the Christian I desire to be. He taught me that a man could be masculine without being mean, aggressive, or compromising the Christian kindness that is expected by the Lord. He taught me that nobility lies in living a quiet and peaceable life, not in having recognition for great deeds. He taught me what love-for-truth looked like in action on a daily basis. He exemplified a willingness to suffer reproach for standing upon the truth, something we both found ourselves doing, side by side. I learned how to laugh and have a good time in a dignified manner from him and his family. He showed me how a family is supposed to be, contrary to the popular paradigms of single-working parents

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