He helped me deal with difficult people, expanded grasp of the power of listening, and taught me the patient approach to change and growth. He was a lifelong blessings.

For decades David had invested in people, always pointing to ‘Papa.’ He lived to encourage, to lift and challenge. Now, after being told He had CANCER, he was living his own challenge. Near the end of June, David’s surgery was history, recovery seemed assured, but complications began piling up. Internal bleeding, blood clots, pneumonia, a blood clot in the lung, septic blood, and after a week of good news, a dramatic change… David’s body said good bye to his spirit.

David finished his race, full of days. Throughout his life he rubbed off on thousands of us. His spirit, his inspiration, and his gentle words of hope will echo through us for generations. I will miss him, but not for long. I’m looking forward to a big reunion in the sky.

I remember that last smile, that “Love you,” whisper, and his trademark thumbs up. But I choose not to let his hospital room be my lasting memory of him. I choose to remember our shared talks, shared dreams, his healing words. I will remember his undeterred, perpetual love for the underdog, the hurting, the wounded, the people on the margins of life. David invaded their world; he lived to help the margins find the center. He helped them find their story.

David is already enjoying Papa’s party in the sky. We will all miss him, but not for long. That transfer ticket awaits us all. He lived to make God look good, regardless. He knew how to invest in thousands, not in himself.

Paul said it this way: “Examine yourselves to see if your faith is genuine. Test yourselves. Surely you know that Jesus Christ is among you [in you]; if not, you have failed the test of genuine faith.” 2 Corintians 13:5 NLT

I met Jesus in David.

It was a little late when I called, but Mel was still awake and we talked for a long time. He had no idea, his words had shaped my life like they did, till I brought it up.

I think I made his day. Mel Weldon was an uncommon preacher, his intent was to get us to think, not tell us what to think. His life showed us how to love the unlovable, how to forgive before we were asked to, and how to be gracious before we knew what grace was.

Back then, nobody dared to think of the preacher as a friend. But, for most of my adults life, Mel was my friend. It all started in the early 1960s. During the summer before my freshman year in college, Mel was one of the keynote speakers for a youth rally at my home church. I had closed the morning session with a challenge for those teens younger than me. It was my first venture into public speaking.

During the lunch break, Mel asked if we could talk a bit, so we headed out toward the parking lot. When we reached the fence separating us from the creek, Mel turned toward me, put his hand on my shoulder and asked, “Ronnie, you ever thought about being a preacher?”

“Absolutely not,” I relied quickly, “they move every two years, somebody is always mad at them, and they don’t have any friends.”

That was that … I thought.

Almost three years later, I was in the hospital recovering from injuries suffered in a tragic car accident, and Mel shows up. It was good to see a friendly face. We got to talk a few minutes before he had to go. Just before he left, he asked, “Ronnie, have you thought any more about being a preacher?”

I had and I did.

Thank You God for Mel’s persistent friendship.

I found Edwin thin and weak, but still sharp and alert. I was there to remind him of how he had blessed my life. His days were numbered, but I wanted this one to count.

His first words to me were, “I have heard really good things about you and what you’re doing. I knew it.”

Down deep I knew it would be like that–he always found a way to help me see God in my life, even when I had lost my way.

I first met Edwin in 1969. He was a banker, a church leader, and a compassionate listener, but to me he was more than that‚ he was a faith coach to me, before I knew it. We never used that term, or spoke of that concept; no one did back then. He was always a step ahead of his time.

Edwin encouraged, motivated, and comforted me. He invested in my life. And, not just me, there are hundreds of people in East Texas who knew this gentle giant. He invested in everyone he met.

The man was a banker by vocation, but his passion, his calling, was to be a cunning and resourceful investor in people. And, I was blessed to be one of his accounts.

As I told him of the mission to get outside the walls of church… to be where the people are, he listened eagerly and smiled. It was as though my story and his story were the same. Not one challenge was left hanging in the air; he seemed to know the answers before I could share the questions. He grabbed every word; his eyes danced with joy. It was a God thing. We were part of each others stories.

When it was time to go, I bent down to hug my investor who blessed me so many years ago–All I could say was, “Thank you for believing in me.”