It was the early Fall of 1962; I was 20 and Caucasion, Irving was 33 and African-American, and both of us were a long way from home. We were just beginning our course of study at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, neither of us having any idea of the friendship that would soon develop, a friendship that would prove to be a true friendship. We met during one of our first classes and learned that we were both from the deep South (he from St. Petersburg, Florida and I from Reynolds, Georgia) and that we both lived in the same dorm--Centennial Hall. For the next two years we studied together, ate together, attended Big Ten football games together, did clinicals together, even attended a few movies together. On June 6, 1964 we became alumni of that great University and, thus, ended our course of study there; however, we determined that our friendship would continue, and continue it did, for 4 + decades. The last time I spoke with him was on Wednesday, March 7, 2007, less than 48 hours before his family called me to tell me of his death. I would attempt to describe the immediate emotions I felt but mere words are inadequate. Suffice it to say that he will forever live in my heart as my true friend. Fortunately, he has two sons and two daughters, along with a precious wife of more than 50 years, each of whom loves me and will be my connection to him for the rest of my life. Our friendship will live on through them.
About a year ago, his family asked me to speak at his funeral service (at that time, he was very ill and not expected to live but a few days, if that) and I readily agreed, assuring them that that I would be honored to do so. When the call came advising me of his death, the reminder that I had agreed to speak came along with it. As a result, Annis and I left Macon and made our way to St. Petersburg. The rest is history.
I have seen God do many beautiful things in my lifetime. Furthermore, I have read about Him parting the sea, giving sight to the blind, healing the lame, walking on water, even raising the
dead. However, I do not think I have ever seen or read anything quite like what I saw and experienced during the time I was speaking at my friend's funeral. All I know to tell you is this: He parted another sea, and in doing so, He gave sight to the blind and He healed the lame. No, I am not referring to my audience but to me.
When I left Macon, I did so with many questions racing around in my mind (still have many of them), not the least of which was whether or not God's calling on my life was still effective. I certainly didn't feel that it was effective, nor did it appear to be effective. As you might imagine, this profoundly affected the way I approached my speaking at Sanchez's funeral. To be sure, I was praying that His power would prove perfect in my weakness and, I might add, it did!
My dear, beloved friend gave me a gift in his death, a gift of immeasurable value and it was this: a renewed conviction that God really did set me apart to preach the gospel--in season and out of season. Yes, it feels and appears that this is an "out-of-season" time for me right now, but I am newly-convinced that seasons change; consequently, I am looking forward to the "in season" time, which, hopefully, is just around the next corner.
As I write this, my friend is at Home, walking all over Heaven and shouting, "Great Balls Afire!"
Much love,
Your Pastor
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