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I learned last week that Wendell Berry died; at 92, he went home to be with the Lord. For those who may be unfamiliar with him, Wendell was from Port Royal, Kentucky.
He had quite a vocation and widespread influence among believers and unbelievers alike. He was a Christian author, poet, environmental activist, and a farmer who helped us appreciate the value of the small agrarian rural life that I have enjoyed and been grateful for the large part of my life in ministry in Arkansas (and now here in Center). Join me in remembering the Wendell Berry family in prayer during this season of bereavement.
Learning of Wendell’s death, caused me to remember one of his many books, a novel I read when I was a young father, Jayber Crow. If you never read it, I encourage it. You won’t be disappointed.
The setting is the fictional rural town of Port William, Kentucky. Jayber is an orphan who drops out of seminary and eventually returns home to become the town barber, gravedigger, and church custodian. I don’t know what it is, but I have enjoyed my barber for the last 13 years and the one I had for 6 years before that, both in small rural areas where I pastored. Going to the barbershop became sort of a crossroads for me, of encounters of community life, stories, and sports, as well as an emotionally restful part of my day where I could catch a brief cat nap.
And I worked as a custodian during my seminary days, as well as the last 8 years of my previous pastoral assignment. And I have always had this deep appreciation for cemeteries and the rich history and legacy of the lives of the saints buried in them.
One of the themes of the story is Jayber’s quiet life and the unfolding simple wise spiritual reflections alongside a secret and abiding love for a local woman named Mattie.
There is a quote in the novel that has helped me as a person who has walked with several over the years through the valley of the shadow of death. “I don’t believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure” (-Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow).
Perhaps, you’re grieving the loss of a loved one, a friend or companion, or a wayward child in the far country. I honor your grief. And want you to know today, you’re not alone. Jesus stands and sits with us in our pool of tears. Perhaps when you feel up to it, you have permission to share your grief stories with me. I will listen.
-Pastor David
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