You've Got a Friend

Spirit cloud looking down on me as I walk the labrynth

 The name Walter H. Beckwith won't mean anything to any of you, but it means a great deal to me. He was the man who is responsible for me even thinking about becoming a minister. For some reason, I'm thinking of him today and remembering what a strong, positive influence he had on my life.

He was appointed the pastor of the Medford [United] Methodist Church when I was 14 years old. He was a recent seminary graduate and was finishing up his probationary status in the Southern New Jersey Annual Conference. He was then about 25 years old as best as I can remember and was filled with youthful vitality.

Up until his arrival on the local church scene, I had the impression that all ministers were old and always dressed in dark suits, and that church in general was for old people. Even so, I was fairly active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship of which, by default, I was elected president (no one else was interested in the job). 

With his arrival, suddenly there was a surge in attendance at youth group meetings and it became one of the best things that had ever happened to me. We met every Sunday at 6:30 p.m. and then if we stayed for Evening Service at 7:30, we could go to the party afterward. We would go to someone's house each week and play games and have snacks. Once a month we would have a special event like going bowling, having a campfire with hot dogs and smores, going on a hayride, or at Halloween we would put a float in the parade.

He really knew how to get kids excited about church and still have fun in their lives. It changed everything for me in the way I saw religion. Then one night when he dropped me off at my house, he told me that he thought I would be a great asset to the ministry. Me? Really?  I went in the house and told my mother and she said that I shouldn't get too caught up with that idea because no one in our family goes to college...we don't have that kind of money. So I learned not to say anything more about that to her, but I had a feeling that maybe that's what I was supposed to be. 

Without going into further detail, unless you think you might interested in the longer story sometime (no obligation there), the rest, as they say, is history.  By the way, my parents were very proud and pleased as they witnessed my graduation from Princeton Seminary in the Princeton University Chapel and my ordination at St. Peter's Church in Ocean City, NJ. Also, by the way, my father died 3 months later, and when we were cleaning out his things, I found a copy of a hymn on his nightstand that was sung as an anthem at my ordination: "Our Times Are in Thy Hands."

And no truer words were spoken--our times are in God's hands. But as we make these life journeys, we don't travel alone and we don't become who we are alone either. Here and there significant people have spoken a word or a phrase or a whole paragraph that has set us on the path we're meant to go. It might be a parent, a neighbor, a friend, a child, a teacher, a relative or any one of a hundred other possibilities. But one of those at the top of my list is the Rev. Walter H. Beckwith. He died a few years back, but I was able to speak with him before that and to thank  him for his role in my life.

                        From left to right: Chris, Kevin Kemp, Ellie, my sister Betty Lou and Gary.