Brother Smith

In 1964, I was living on the streets, and by the good graces of friends.
I had left home after being beat up by my dad, so I was in essence homeless.

I had recently met Brother H J Smith due to his influence with the new,
Episcopal, Charismatic believers who had recently discovered the doctrine of
the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. These very formal, quiet Christians
"accidentally" found Old Pisgah Tabernacle where they were hungrily
soaking up the Biblical discipleship under Brother Smith.

So along came a lonely, acne scarred, rebellious, smoking teenager, who was
a believer, but had had no discipleship. Brother Smith took me under his
wing, and -- as he recounted to me many years later -- obeyed what he felt
was the L-rd's call to take care of me in a special way.

Many a night after Sunday services I would have the honor to sit in his
kitchen, with believers from all over the world, drinking "Ceylon" tea
brewed by Brother Smith's bride. I would soak up his Biblical wisdom, but
even more his kindly acceptance of this high school dropout. Once, when I
had applied to travel as a member of an evangelistic team, he wrote a
glowing letter of recommendation with a small P.S. that said, "I hope it
won't be a problem if John is still smoking when he's scheduled to leave with you."

Over the years, he encouraged me when I went to Bible School,
when I went to nursing school, when I was in the military, and during visits with my wife
and children who were always treated like royalty. But the most accurate
accolade I can communicate about Brother Smith was that he walked with Jesus.

Somehow, Brother Smith seemed ageless. Over the years he was the one person that I knew
that never seemed to age. I never considered that one day he would be with us no more.
I was on active duty when he died, so I didn't even know about his death until a while after his loss.

It still seems that something's wrong when I drive to Los Angeles and I can't stop by Old Pisgah
and say hello to that great saint. And as I write this, I feel deeply my own loss of that spiritual father.

My greatest fear is that when I die no one will come to my funeral.
That will mean I utterly failed in my mission to bring the Messiah's love
into my little world and those that share it with me.

For Brother Smith, the greatest thing that can be said about him is that HE LOVED.

I pray to G-d that he taught me well, and I will also receive that appellation when I depart.


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