Remembering Brother Joe

My life has been deeply influenced by my childhood pastor, Brother Joe Srygley. As a young child, I kept hearing Brother Joe say, “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life," that Jesus was not just a theological abstraction. He instigated in me hope and faith that, beyond God's holiness, He also loves me.

In fifth-grade, I knelt beside my bed one night and asked Jesus to forgive my sins and grow my faith in him. During the next week I had the opportunity to sit and talk with Brother Joe about my decision to follow Christ. Brother Joe became, in those short but meaningful conversations the week before my baptism, something more than just an abstraction himself. I fell below the surface of the water, and he brought me out.

As I matured in faith, I began to pray in moments of joy and gratefulness, fear and grief. As I looked back, occasionally I saw what had been unseen, recognizing tell-tale signs of one who works things together for good. I was blessed to have such a pastor to guide me into that sort of spiritual practice and understanding.

During my sophomore year, my friend Tom Tomberlain had been coming in to meet with Brother Joe about once a week to talk about questions of faith and to pray with him. I remember shyly inquiring, “You do?” I expressed enough interest to have Tom say, “Yeah, you should come with me next week.” I did come in to see Brother Joe with Tom, and though we didn’t cover any great theological ground to speak of, I became, in those brief encounters in his office, more than a congregant. We became friends.

Over the course of time, I came to see him more and more, sometimes with Tom, sometimes with Aaron, sometimes with Robert, sometimes alone. Once I had a vehicle of my own, I would drop by during the school-day in my off-period or after school during my junior and senior year. His secretary Kathy would call into him by phone to let him know I was there to see him, and, no more quickly than she had hung up the phone, he would open his door and have me "Come on in!"

I’m not sure if he felt on edge that he had so many things to do but so very little time to do them or if he genuinely was excited to see and talk with me. If it was lunchtime and he had not yet eaten, he would seem in no rush to get away. If he had visits to make or studying to do, I never felt pushed out the door. And, on occasion, if his wife Lea Etta called during our talk to ask him about lunch, he would hold the mouthpiece, ask me if I wanted to come over, and then let her know he’d be bringing me. 

Of all his ministry accomplishments, this has mattered greatly to me: he knew me, he called me by name, he spoke the truth not just from the podium but from the shallow waters of the Lower Mountain Fork River in Broken Bow, Oklahoma, as we camped and fished for trout together time and again. He let me into his world. We laughed and philosophized and trash talked. He was not only a pastor but a mentor and a friend. 

I have seen the fiery courage that led Joe to preach the Gospel amidst trial and grief as well as in joy and celebration. He was unwavering, trustworthy, and Christlike. He taught me that sin corrupts our relationship with God and our purposes in the world. He taught me that “we all sin and fall short of the glory of God." He taught me that in spite of our sin, “God’s grace is sufficient for us, for His power is made perfect in our weakness.” He taught me that I have no need for fear in life or death, that Christ loves me through my darkest valleys, and that he calls me to love others just the same.

Two weeks ago today, Brother Joe died. And yet...Death, where is thy sting?...

"For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true:

'Death has been swallowed up in victory.' " -I Corinthians 15:52-54