TIM E HOLDER

 

In the third installment of  J. R.R. Tolkien’s epic trilogy, The Lord OF The Rings, Minas Tirith, the fortified capital of Gondor became the staging area between the forces of good and the evil armies of Mordor.. All was seemingly lost as the onslaught of Mordor rammed through gate after gate of the city. Gandalf and Pippin found themselves trapped inside the citadel and believed their journeys were about to end in death. Pippin looked up to Gandalf and said,  “I didn’t think it would end this way.” 

GANDALF: “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.”

PIPPIN: “What? Gandalf? See what?”

GANDALF: “White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.” 

PIPPIN: “Well, that isn’t so bad.”

GANDALF: “No. No, it isn’t.” 

Back in 1997, a group of distinctively mismatched men bonded together and began a journey of friendship that has lasted more than 2 decades. Our travels have taken us down different roads and our individual paths have been  rocky and  sometimes obstructed by paths of barbed thorns. Tim Overby (called T.O. to avoid confusion) is a pastor in Missouri, husband to a precious, Jesus loving wife and 4 great kids. Gene Nobles, who lives in Hot Springs and is in advanced stages of Parkinson’s, father to 2 awesome men, who Gene is extraordinarily proud of,  and me (called TIM to avoid confusion). 

The 4th member of our posse is Billy Borre. Before Billy and his family moved from Little Rock to Nashville, Billy made it part of his mission to keep the other three of us together. We set up a weekly time to get together and study books we loved, “The Ragamuffin Gospel,” “The Sacred Romance.” And we ate a lot of donuts.  We continued to meet through life changes, holding each other up, encouraging each other, sometimes hard conversations that needed to be addressed. But, we loved each other through it all. It wasn’t always verbally communicated, but it was understood that we would always be there for each other. There have been times of silence, as happens in most relationships where time and distance would fight against endurance.

Over the past several years, Billy suffered several mini-strokes that went undiagnosed for a long time. When it was finally discovered, damage to his brain was irreversible. He has vestibular dementia, which will only get worse and will eventually take his life.

The three amigos decided we would not let Billy leave this planet without us being with him. It was our way of telling Billy that he mattered and that he made a difference in our lives, an eternal difference. We needed him to know that he made an impact that would far outlive all of us.

T.O., Gene and I met in Little Rock and made the 5 hour journey to Nashville with very little silence. Memories of shared times together and where life and the Lord has taken us made the trip seem very short.

We decided to visit Billy in the nursing home where he now resides before checking into the hotel. We weren’t sure what condition we would find Billy. I spoke with his brother, Bobby, who is a champion brother, Billy’s biggest and most faithful advocate. He told us Billy has good days and bad days. His body has atrophied with little core motor skills left. His mind, although intact, is slipping almost daily. He remembers some things and people, and not others. So, we didn’t know what we would find.

We found the home, silently, apprehensively walked the hallway and into Billy’s room. He was in his wheelchair, between two beds,  with his head bowed to his chest. I was struck by how small and vulnerable he looked.

We stopped about 5 feet from him. I bent over to eye level and waited. Billy opened his eyes and glanced over toward us. He looked at me without recognition and I smiled and said, “What are you doing?” I will never, as long as I live forget that moment.

Almost in slow motion, his eyes grew wide as he remembered. He lifted his head and leaned forward, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  He held out his arms and I raced to him and enveloped him in mine and he said, “I love you. I love you so much.” He knew.

I said, “Hey, I told you I was going to bring you a surprise. Look.” T.O.  and Gene stepped forward for their turn for hugs and love. It was a holy moment. For the next 45 minutes, we felt the presence of the Holy Spirit all over the room.

T.O. asked Billy if he could read a few verses from the Bible. Of course, Billy said “yes.” Tim opened his Bible to Revelation 21 and read, “Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.  ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

When Tim finished reading, there was a moment of silence. Then Billy looked up at Gene and said, “Gene, I will hug you now. God is going to make all things new.” Gene walked over to Billy and they embraced  each other. An eternal, life affirming hug, filled with “I love you’s” that, I’m certain, echoed through the halls and the promises of heaven.

We told Billy we would be back the next day. We asked what he liked to eat and he wanted Mexican and a coke. It was a plan.

Later that night, as we processed through our time with Billy, T.O. said, “The curtain was pulled back a little.” That summed it up.  I learned that day that looking into the eyes of impossible hardship is where I get one of the clearest pictures of eternity. We were reminded of 2 Corinthians 4:16. “So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”

The next morning, T.O. worked on his sermon for Sunday. I am in awe of this man. The Lord has redeemed his past and made him a conduit for knowledge and wisdom. His understanding and thirst for relationship with the Lord is amazing. He remembers everything he studies. Somehow, I didn’t get that genetic marker. Every time I read a scripture, it’s like the first time I read it. Weird. Tim impacts thousands of people on a weekly basis. I want to be there when the Lord hands Tim the “crown of exultation.” All the believers that will be in heaven because Tim spiritually invested in them.

Gene and I spent time reading and catching up on where we are in life. Gene, most times, refers to the Lord as “ABBA.” one of the most significant names in how the Lord relates to people. It signifies a close intimate relationship of a father and his child, as well as the childlike trust that a child puts in his “daddy.”  And that is how Gene relates to his life and present condition. His Parkinson’s disease has left him using a walking cane most of the time and sometimes a chair to move about. His body moves with uncertainty. But, the light in his eyes screams of eternity and the joy of seeing his “daddy” for the first time, face to face.

These are good men. We are three amigos, who couldn’t possibly be more different. And we are bonded together, a three stranded cord that cannot easily be broken.

So, we made it to a Mexican restaurant, bought 10 tacos, cheese dip and guacamole. We spent nearly 3 hours with Billy and his “super hero” brother, Bobby. 

Bobby would say he’s only a regular brother. But, he’s anything but regular. He has sacrificed and been there every time Billy has needed him. He makes sure Billy knows he is loved. 

As we sat at the picnic table, Billy continually reached out to touch us, hold our hands and affirm his love for each of us. Later, we sat around Billy and watched as Bobby carefully, with great love, patiently trimmed Billy’s goatee. Billy, reaching up to hold Bobby’s arm and proudly look in his brother’s eyes.

And then, showing signs that he was tired, we helped him into his bed. T.O. got down on his knees next to Billy’s bed and asked him what his favorite Psalm was. Without hesitating for a second, Billy said, “Psalm 1.” and Tim read Psalm 1, amidst Billy’s occasional exclamations of, “Amen.”

And then it was time to go. Billy was tired and we knew he needed rest. I didn’t mention it to the other guys. but, I believe we all knew this would, more than likely, be the last time we saw Billy on this side of the veil.

We each took our turn bending down next to his bed and hugging him. When it came my time, I got down on my knees and took this courageous man in my arms. It was a fierce, life affirming hug. And he wouldn’t let go. he kissed me on my cheek and whispered, “I love you, Tim. I love you so much. I’ve always believed in you.”

When I let him go, tears were streaming down my cheeks. Billy took my face in both his hands and his eyes pierced into mine. Just at that pivotal moment, as Billy used his thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks, the veil was pulled back and my spirit gazed directly into eternity. I didn’t see a table of food or hear angels singing. I didn’t see a throne or cherubim. Those are surprises and delights yet to be unwrapped. But, I felt the love of Jesus, almost excrutiiatingly impossible for this frail human vessel to contain. Crystal pure. A prism of joy and hope and wonder and expectancy and I pulled in one last time and kissed Billy on his cheek and our eyes met again and I said, “Billy, if you happen to get home before I do, would you be standing there waiting for me?” His whisper was almost a shout. “Yes. Yes I will. And when my kids get there, we will all be together. And I’ll say, “See that man over there? He’s the reason we’re all here.” I said, “Yep, Jesus will be right there with us.”

Bobby walked us to our car and thanked us for coming. We hugged him good bye and quietly made our way back to the hotel.

Gene laid on his bed, weeping. T.O. was holding his arm. Gene thanked “ABBA” for this time and he affirmed both T.O. And me as men and as ministers. And then he said something I will never forget. As Gene lay there on that bed, his diminished body wracked with tremors, tears flowing freely and bravely down his face, he said, “Parkinson’s has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. His plan has perfect purpose and I am overflowing with love.”  I don’t know that I’ve every encountered such courage and determination through the storms he’s been swept through to trust the Lord so completely.

Hardship is part of our path to eternity. ABBA allows difficulty and loss in our lives so that we will continue to lean on Him, depend on Him, stay surrendered to Him. And oh, how much sweeter heaven looks through that lens.

The Psalm, Psalm 1, that T.O. read to Billy. “How well God must like you, You don’t hang out at Sin Saloon, you don’t slink along Dead-End Road, you don’t go to Smart-Mouth College. Instead you thrill to God’s Word, you chew on Scripture day and night. You’re a tree replanted in Eden, bearing fresh fruit every month, Never dropping a leaf, always in blossom. You’re not at all like the wicked, who are mere windblown dust—Without defense in court, unfit company for innocent people. God charts the road you take. The road they take is Skid Row.”

I believed we were going to Nashville to make sure Billy knew that he made a difference in our lives. That he made an eternal difference. It seems ABBA’s plans were far better.