Frailty

Today we lay to rest my mentor, my friend, my pastor, "Brother" Jake Olmsted.

I find, surprisingly as much as I do funerals and deal with sickness and death, it difficult to believe. I'm not sure why except it continues to speak to my own frailty and my own passage of time.

Sixteen years ago in August, Mary, the girls and I went to the Gretna United Methodist Church for the first time. It was, quite literally, a life-changing experience. Jake was the pastor, Sharon the pastor's wife.

Jake wasn't the best preacher, wasn't the best anything really. But what he was was a good teacher, and I believe God put him in my life to not only lead me to ministry but to teach me how to "do" ministry. I've served under and listened to better preachers. I don't know that I ever knew a better pastor. Jake truly cared about all the folks he served, and he really believed that's what pastors do. They serve. It's not an occupation. It's not a vocation. It's an opportunity to serve, and Jake did.

I remember that first day at Gretna like it was yesterday, though the aches in my knees, back, shoulder and even wrist speak volumes about how long ago it was. We, well, I checked a box that asked if we wanted the pastor to visit. I was looking for among other things God at the time. Jake, though I never told him, sort of looked like my conception of the great Father with his white hair and all. Jake came to visit the following week, we had a great conversation and we were off and running.

That January, with but a few months in at Gretna, Jake asked me to go to some sort of conference that I had no business being at. It was he start of what has led me to this point in my ministry. Later at Gretna, Jake allowed me to preach and create a contemporary worship service at Gretna. Again, steps along the way.

Jake once told me that he didn't care for contemporary worship, but he wouldn't stand in the way of those who did. That's about all anyone can ask for, both in a worship leader and in a mentor.

We were supposed to meet, as we always did, for coffee a couple weeks back. We were going to discuss this notion of full-time ministry. I wanted to quiz him about what one does all day long when one is in full-time ministry. I have a hard time scheduling, or wrapping my mind around the thought of how to schedule, a full-time ministry day. He had to cancel because of problems with his heart. He was an intensly private individual, for reasons I never understood, and he didn't want to talk about the heart situation nor did he want me to mention it to anyone.

He went into the hospital last week for surgery on that heart and never came out. We never got to talk again. My loss, not his.

This idea that we are all growing so much older so quickly isn't exclusive to me. The friends from Gretna that jump-started my walk with Christ have all moved away or in some cases died. Cathy Brunell is gone. Jake is gone. Kaylynn, Tracy, gone. Mary and I moved ourselves. Time does pass.

But the Bible reminds us all in Job's story of pain and suffering: Submit to God and be at peace with him; in this way prosperity will come to you. Accept instruction from his mouth and lay up his words in your heart. If you return to the Almighty, you will be restored.

None of us knew back then what we were doing into terms of walking with God. None of them knew they were helping a little lost lamb who just wanted to get sober and become a sports editor (mixing metaphors as quickly as I can) do what God wanted of him. None of us knew. We were just living our lives.

But here's the thing. God takes what free will gives and turns it to the good. From a faltering, failing guy, he molded a minister, a wounded, hurting soul learning how to help wounded, hurting souls.

Jake Olmsted was one of the tools God used to help me. I never forgot that. I never will. May God give his peace, which I can't understand or explain, to Sharon and the Olmsted family.

If there are indeed any readers left out there, wish them well in prayer. And understand that none of us knows what God has for us next. That's both exciting and terribly, terribly frightning.