A Special Man

On December 31st my dad officially retired after 41 years as a pastor in the Baptist General Conference. His retirement party was Friday, January 7th. I was sad that I would be in Kenya and not able to attend, but God had a different plan. I was able to call in on a skype video call and participate in the program. They set up a computer at my family's dinner table and I got to "sit" with them while they ate. I heard their conversations and was able to talk back and forth. It was almost like being there (except I couldn't taste the enchiladas). During the program they would turn the computer around so that I could see the slide show or watch the speaker.

It was really unbelievable. I have never had that good of an internet connection in Kenya. It didn't drop the call once (except when their computer's battery went dead). Maybe it was because it was 4:30 in the morning in Kenya and so there weren't many other people using the internet. Or maybe it was just God's gift to me so that I could be a part of that special night.

My dad is truly a special man. The program was a wonderful tribute to him. Even I was patched in so that I could give a speech about him. Here is what I said...

Dear Dad;

I really wish I could have attended your retirement party. I feel badly that I missed it, but am grateful for the few weeks I was able to spend with you at home last month. While I was home I noticed an extra dose of giddiness in you. You were very jovial. I think it was mostly from the freedom you were feeling and the burden that was lifted from you by retiring. I was trying to imagine or understand the tremendous pressure and stress you have felt for almost 45 years. Being a “preacher’s kid” I saw much of it first-hand. The pressure of having to prepare a “perfect sermon” each and every week; preparing Sunday School lessons and mid-week service lessons; overseeing the running of the church, serving on many boards and committees in the church, the administrative duties, visiting the new church attenders, spending time in the hospitals and with the shut-ins; being responsible for the hundreds of people in your flock, receiving phone calls in the middle of the night, preparing for and officiating weddings and funerals; and setting up for service or cleaning up around the church; even occasionally scrubbing a toilet or picking up after a messy baby. You were called by God to the ministry 4 decades ago and have carried out your responsibilities with a joy and a passion; not as a job or a duty but as a privilege and a mission.

You were even able to faithfully carry out your job in the face of criticism. Many times you were wrongly accused for something or people would talk behind your back; some of those times it was because of things your four sons had done and almost all of the time there was no basis for the accusations. In the midst of that you always stood strong in your faith and did the best you knew how.

When anyone asks me about my father, I usually respond that you are the “classic pastor/shepherd.” You are not a flashy, dynamic speaker, but a great teacher who cares for each and every member of your congregation, and you have a way of making everyone around you feel special. You are humble and hard-working. A man with a true “servant’s heart.”
Some of my earliest memories in life are of staying with you after the Sunday night service at Grace Baptist, cleaning up and locking the building together, and then walking across the parking lot while I peppered questions at you about anything and everything. Even though there was always delicious home-made pizza and fudge waiting for us when we reached home on those Sunday nights, I never wanted those special father-son times in the church alone with you and walking across the parking lot to end.

You are a special man. I know the mark that you have left on my life is significant, but you have also left a significant imprint on the lives of thousands of others that you have pastored. Whenever I am able to return to Waverly, Iowa or Lake Havasu, AZ I hear many stories of lives that you touched. Some of them share about how your counseling helped to save their marriage, others talk about how you supported them through a tough time, while others mention how you visited them in the hospital or encouraged them when they were down. Many pastors in this day and age think their job is only to give good sermons on Sunday and don’t have a clue about what it means to pastor and shepherd a congregation.

And also to Mom… this day is also honoring you. Being a pastor’s wife requires so much sacrifice, perseverance and thick skin. You have faithfully served side by side with Dad all of these years, staying home to raise us four boys, serving as the church secretary in some cases, playing the piano and organ, leading Bible Studies, and giving Dad the support and encouragement he needed to persevere through tough times. You were God’s gift to dad and his ministry. Without you, he couldn’t have done it.

It will seem very odd when I come home next time and you are not the pastor of a church. I have never known anything different. You began pastoring seven years before I was even born. It is amazing to think of it that way.

If anyone deserves to retire and rest a while, it has to be you. Thank you for how you have wholeheartedly carried out your ministry for the past 41 years. You have poured your whole life into serving. You have even shared some of your regrets with me that you didn’t spend enough time with us when we were young because of your responsibilities in the church. I remember the family vacations across the U.S., sharing meals together, rebounding my missed shots in the driveway, playing baseball at the tennis courts, making me hot fudge sundaes, the many rides to and from school, friends houses, and basketball/baseball/soccer/football practice. You might feel that you didn’t spend enough time with us, but I don’t feel that way at all. I don’t know how you did it, but you gave everything you had to your ministry, and at the same time to us kids. You were the best father any child could ever hope to have in this world.

I am proud of you.

Love Always,

Joe Peterson