Kenneth Turner

Every so often, someone enters our lives that changes us for the good and leaves a lasting, positive impression. From the moment I met Kenneth Turner, I liked him. You had to like him — he didn’t really give you a choice. His warm smile, his generous hugs, his obvious love for God and those whom God had created, drove away frowns and self-pity.

He was retired and in his mid-60s when he first came to Sunday morning services with his wife, Donna. From the moment he hit the door, he made friends. Kenneth was a life insurance salesman for nearly 33 years before he retired, having acquired nearly every award available, but I didn’t know that for years. He didn’t come across as the typical, stereotypical salesman and he talked neither about himself nor about insurance.

He was also a veteran of the U.S. Army, but, if he talked about that, it was how he spent most of his tour in New Mexico in a bathing suit teaching officers’ kids to swim. He was a military police officer but he thought that spending time in a swim suit made a more interesting story.

Mostly, he talked about how much he appreciated you (if you were the one standing before him) and he talked about God. When some people talk about God, it’s an “in your face,” aggressive, not-so-pleasant conversation. With Kenneth, it was who he was and what he lived for. Ken Turner talked about God the way most grandparents talk about their grandchildren.

No one would have ever known that, in those days, Kenneth had been battling cancer. His ever-present smile, his genuine interest in other people, the encouragement that he poured lavishly over people of all ages, including children, caused everyone he met to, eventually, adore him. Most people never even knew he had been sick.

It only seemed natural that such a man would wind up being a greeter at church. He greeted each person who visited for the first time as though they were a favorite cousin returning for the family reunion. Many were the people who became members of the church who would point to Kenneth and Donna as the reasons they came back to visit a second and a third time.

He spoke his mind, though gently. When we occupied our new sanctuary six years ago, on one wall in the foyer hung photographs of several of our bishops. In the middle of the photographs was a crucifix. Kenneth looked at that for a while and mused, “Don’t you think that Jesus should be above the bishops?” He was right, of course, and we made the change on the spot.

Later when Kenneth began to get sick again, he found himself in hospitals more often. Even there, he was consistent. If someone brought him a tray of food, or took out the trash, or gave him a shot, or took his blood pressure, he never failed to thank them and to tell them “what blessings of God they were” to him. From the janitor to the physician, all received equal amounts of praise and appreciation.

People who visited him in the hospital to comfort him, came away themselves inspired and comforted, even the clergy. He was that kind of man. Kenneth often told me as he left church, “You are our rock! You’re our strength.”

He had it backwards. Kenneth was my rock and he often was my strength. He was the kind of man that, spiritually, I longed to be. He was the “real deal.”

Last Saturday morning, I was to take him Holy Communion at Southwest Christian Care. It didn’t happen. Kenneth Turner beat me to the Table, where God’s saints feast forever.

I don’t know how many hundreds of people filed through the funeral home on Monday evening. On Tuesday, our church was packed with people whose lives Kenneth had touched over the years. The services actually started some 17 minutes late because we couldn’t get people to stop hugging each other and move inside. Kenneth wouldn’t have minded — he was the biggest hugger in the bunch.

One of the college students, Jessica Bell, said, “I adored him.” Joann Neece said, “He was the grandfather my children never had.” His good friend Ed Behlke quoted 2 Samuel 3:38, saying, “Then the king said to his men, ‘Do you not realize that a prince and a great man has fallen in Israel this day?’”

That, in essence was Kenneth Turner — a prince and a great man. I wish you could have known him. You would have liked him; he wouldn’t have given you a choice.