CREEDE HINSHAW: The enduring message of ‘Love, Mercy and Grace’

This week I found myself in the church attic with my dear friend and mentor Bill Hinson. He and I were leading a worship service together, but for some reason we needed to find church hymnals, so we were crawling around in the musty space, looking for songbooks. I spied a pile of old Bibles while we were looking, which prompted me to make a joke about finally seeing “a stack of Bibles.” Then Bill and I found the hymnals that contained the gospel hymn we wanted to sing in church: “Love, Mercy and Grace.”

It was a dream. It was a very fine dream, and in some ways a very familiar dream to me. I often dream about my continuing relationship with William Hinson, the pastor who helped me clarify my call and placed an indelible stamp on my life and ministry.

Bill died 20 years ago this December. But he remains with me in ways subtle and tangible. My approach to life is shaped by his example and his faith. And the dreams are always inspiring.

Nov. 1 was All Saints Day. On this day for well over a millennium, the church has celebrated the resurrection, reclaimed our faith in eternal life and taken comfort in “the communion of saints.” Those who have gone before us, who the book of Hebrews describes as that “great cloud of witnesses,” who poets describe as dwelling eternally on that other shore, accompany, encourage, and sustain us who hope to eventually join them.

This All Saints Day, I thank Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for those who have shaped me and influenced me for the good. The list is long.

It begins with my parents, who gave me the gift of life and love. It extends to a family lineage rich and diverse.

This All Saints Day, I thank God for my elementary school principal, Dallice Darst, who sent me a post card from the United Nations because she knew I’d like the stamp. I thank God for my first Sunday School teachers, Bill and Ruth McGraw, who owned the local grocery store and led the Sunday School Assembly where I first sang songs about Jesus. I thank God for a church camp counselor, Bill Cowen, who had the rather dreadful responsibility of chaperoning a bunch of ninth-grade boys who loved telling adolescent jokes of questionable taste. When Rev. Cowen told a joke along with us, he helped me understand that pastors are human.

This All Saints Day, I remember Granny Winkle, who lived next door in the first five years of my life. I remember Jerry Clossin, an adult who this teenager saw as a role model. I remember Joseph Rodkey, my Latin teacher in high school, an artillery colonel in World War II. I remember James Benson, my creative and indefatigable debate coach for three years at Ball State University.

Thank you, God, for so many witnesses. They are real to me yet now. I pray that the communion of saints is real for you. Today I’m singing “Love, Mercy and Grace.”