He finished well

Once in a great while, someone walks into a church and, as the pastor, you sense that God has sent them to you as a gift. Over the course of time, their presence helps to help make you a better man, they serve as a positive influence on the rest of the congregation, and leave behind a legacy that will not soon be forgotten. James F. McMullan was such a man.

I met Jim when he was around 72 years old. When he first came to church, it was because he was dating Patti Warren, a member of our congregation. Jim's wife, JoAnn, and Patti had been good friends for many years but sometime earlier, JoAnn had passed away, leaving Jim a widower. After a respectable time of mourning and singleness, Jim began to call on Patti. Patti, who had no intention of ever getting remarried, was a bit taken back by Jim's attention, but eventually decided to see where their friendship might lead.

It led to courtship, love, and marriage. It also led to a great deal of happiness for both of them. When they married, Jim stole Patti away from us and they began to attend Jim's church, where he had served first as a founding elder, then as a lay pastor, and finally as associate pastor for over 15 years.

Then, after some time, to my surprise, Jim stepped down from his official positions at the church in East Point. He and Patti moved to Sharpsburg and they became part of our church family. From the very beginning, Jim emerged as a gentle and humble leader, particularly of men. Men liked Jim, felt comfortable with him, and were drawn to him. He became a surrogate father or grandfather to several, always having a word of encouragement, although he could give such a gentle rebuke that it would be days before it dawned on the person that they had been the subject of correction.

A financial planner, Jim had graduated from Emory University, had earned a master's degree from American College, and had built a highly successful business over the years. Although he never really retired, as a volunteer he put his skills to use in the church by teaching financial classes and helping young men and families work through their monetary difficulties. Before long, Jim was asked to serve on the Men's Leadership Council and was soon helping to minister to the men of the church. He became a Bible study leader, and was recruited to be on the ALPHA Course Leadership Team. To us, he was an example of how an older man should live his life to the full.

And then the sickness came. For a long time, most of the congregation didn't know he was sick and very few knew how serious it was. He fought valiantly and submitted to all the recommended treatment but, after a long period of battling the disease, he came to the conclusion that his time was nearly done. He got his affairs in order, wrote his own obituary, updated his will, and made the visit to the funeral home to finalize matters. It was his intention that his passing would not unduly burden his wife and his four adult children. His funeral, he decided, would be in the sanctuary of our church, where he had been confirmed by the bishop in 2003.

He came to church until it was impossible to continue, so every week the church came to him in the form of visits and the sacraments. Before I went to a Lenten Retreat, Jim, now 77, asked me to come by and hear his confession and perform what most would call "last rites." We chatted for a while and then his family left us alone. I heard his confession and then began last rites. At the midpoint, I said, "Jim, this is as far as we can go with this today."

"It is?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "but when it is time, I promise that I'll come back and finish it."

He seemed contented with that. Last Saturday, I returned to his home and fulfilled my promise.

On the wall of our church, behind the altar, is a large cross called the Christus Rex. (or "Christ the King") It is a depiction of the risen Christ standing victoriously before the cross, wearing a crown, and attired in priestly vestments. During Lent, we covered the Christus Rex with a purple shroud. Last Saturday afternoon, in preparation for Easter Sunday, our sexton, Scott Haskin, was removing the shroud. As the face of Christ was revealed, I glanced at my watch for some reason. It was 1:54 p.m. A short time later, I got the call I had been dreading and, with my wife, rushed to Jim and Patti's house. It was much later in the day when one of his children told me that he had died at 1:54 p.m.

Upon hearing the news, Paul Dick, who now lives in Ohio, wrote to me saying, "I first met him when I was at my lowest and he was quite an inspiration to me. He was teaching a Bible study and he inspired me to read the word. In fact, just recently I completed reading the Bible cover to cover again. It's easy to talk the talk, but he led by example every time I saw him. I hope I can continue to follow his example. I can't say anything better than, ‘He finished well.'"

Yes, he did. And although at 1:54 p.m. last Saturday, Jim saw the face of the Lord he loved, our hearts still hurt. We loved him and we miss him so.