The Bishop’s Men

On Friday night, June 8, just before midnight, John Holloway suffered a massive stroke. The next night, he would undergo an emergency surgery to save his life. Since that time, he has spent most of the past three months in hospitals and a rehabilitation facility.

Presently, he cannot move his right side and cannot speak. He is 53 years old, the married father of four, and a pastor. He is also my bishop and my friend.

Last Tuesday, he had to be given two units of blood and was being treated for pneumonia and other conditions. Tests were scheduled and a call was received from his wife asking people to pray. Late in the afternoon, telephone calls went out to a number of the bishop’s priests in Georgia.

At 7:30 that evening a number of men from across the state gathered at the hospital in Thomaston, Ga., to anoint him with oil and pray for him.

Three of the men drove over an hour, one an hour and a half, and two nearly three hours. Three of the men who came lived nearby and, at the appointed time, they all met in the lobby of the hospital. These were the bishop’s men.

For over 10 years, he has served as their bishop, counselor, pastor and friend. They have known him long enough and well enough to know that, like them, he is not a perfect or flawless man. All, however, have been touched and strengthened by his preaching, his prayers, and his pastoral care.

They came to Thomaston, representing the rest of the clergy in Georgia and Tennessee, many of whom were praying in their homes or churches at the same time. They came to pray over and love on this man who is their spiritual father.

He was sleeping when they arrived but awakened quickly. There was no agenda, no plan for the night, other than to pray with him and be with him. For the better part of an hour, the bishop’s men knelt on the hard floor or stood to offer prayers, sing songs of worship and praise, read scriptures, hold his hand, and offer words of encouragement and affection.

One later remarked that the scene reminded him of knights standing guard and vigil over their wounded king. Another said he thought of sons surrounding a beloved father. Near the end of the time, Holy Communion was served to the bishop and his men.

One of the men said, “Bishop, will you bless us?” At this, the bishop raised his left hand toward the men and, as most dropped to their knees, he prayed, though no words were heard, only a quiet whisper.

Then, one by one, the men expressed their love and support and began to file out. It is customary for clergy to kiss the ring of their bishop at appropriate times to demonstrate their respect of the office. However, due to his condition, the bishop wasn’t wearing his ring.

Undeterred, the bishop’s men, one by one, leaned down and tenderly kissed him on the forehead. It was a spontaneous act, unrehearsed and unashamed, as these men, in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, many of whom had done battle in the military or in the board room or in business, expressed what their words could not.

There is hope and expectation that he will recover and resume his place. In the meantime, prayers continue, visits to the hospital are made, gifts come in to assist with expenses, and every day Holy Communion is brought to the bishop and his wife. Others are praying, of course, not just the clergy. Women, children, laymen, and people from other churches, denominations, and countries are holding Bishop John and his family before the Throne.

The future is uncharted and uncertain but those who know John Holloway know that he is one of God’s men. He has been a praying, fasting, giving, repenting man who, at any casual moment, was likely to be seen with his nose in his Bible. He is in God’s good hands and in the hearts and prayers of the bishop’s men.