Funeral

Leaving a Faithful Legacy

By Pastor Josh Wamble

I wonder if you have thought much about the legacy that you will leave behind when you die. I hope that you have. Almost every time I attend a funeral (looking at the pictures displayed, having conversations with others about the person who has died, and listening to the eulogy), I find myself thinking about that person and their impact on me but also about my own life and what people will say about me when I die—what my legacy will be. I hope that you have thought about the legacy you will leave behind for your children and other family and your friends, the impact your life is having on others.

But, I also wonder if you have ever thought about the legacy you will leave behind in your church.

The last few years have been really good for our church, but also really hard for our church in especially one way. It seems like a generation of older people is leaving us. Each year around Christmas time, our deacons host a lunch for the widows and widowers in our church. Recently, some of us came across a picture of that group from 2017. There were ten widows in that picture. A short five years later, and now only three of them are still here. Others who were not widows in 2017 have passed away since then as well.

That generation of believers and members of FBC, Fairdale have had a huge impact on me in many ways not least of which is how I think about the church and the importance of following Jesus together. They each left individual legacies behind, but when I think about their legacy and their impact on me as a group—as a generation of members here—one thing I think of is how generous they were with their church. I moved to Louisville in 2005 and joined the church soon after. I was a young seminary student from TN. I had never heard of Fairdale, KY before. I didn’t know the history of the church or the community. Yet, in spite of all that, they welcomed me here so willingly and genuinely.

In 1 Corinthians 13:5, we are told that love “seeks not its own advantage” or “does not insist on its own way.” Over the years, whenever decisions were being discussed or changes were being put into place or newer people were being put into different positions at the church, they never “sought their own advantage” or “insisted on their own way.” They never made things difficult—and they could have. I imagine it’s difficult for a 70-year-old or an 80-year-old to have a 35 or 40 year old pastor or group of pastors.

It’s probably difficult for someone who has been a member of a church for as long as they have been to see different people with different ideas and approaches begin serving in leadership and decision-making positions and doing some things differently than they had been done in the past. In none of these situations did they ever “seek their own advantage” or “insist on their own way.” They were quick to welcome new members and visitors to our church—and in a very open way. They welcomed people to come in and be as much a part as they had been for so many years and still were. They made it so easy for younger people and newer people to be members here and to serve here!

I could name so many people who were here in 2005 who are no longer with us. Much of the good things happening in our church today are because of how faithfully and energetically they served here and were involved here in their younger years—but also because of how faithfully and energetically they supported and encouraged and followed and helped their church family and especially the leaders of their church in their later years.

I hope that we are all thinking this way as well. I hope that you are thinking of what your legacy will be to the next generations of members here. In 30 or 40 or 50 years, what will the younger members be saying about you—about us? May we all seek to follow the example that has been set for us so well—serving and supporting, working and encouraging, helping and following “not seeking our own advantage” or “insisting on our own way!”

Leaving a Faithful LegacyPastor Josh Wamble2023-01-24T11:01:55-05:00

Honoring a Terrific Grandfather

Today, February 2, 2021, Groundhogs’ Day is my maternal grandfather’s birthday—Grandaddy Hinson. If he had lived this long, he would have been 90 years old today. He didn’t he was killed in a wreck in 2011 when he was 80 years old.

I realize that families have problems and not everyone has a great family, and I want to be sensitive to that. But, I do. One of God’s greatest gifts to me has been my family. I have had great parents, uncles/aunts, cousins, siblings, and grandparents.

My Grandaddy Hinson was born in 1932. He only went to school through the 8th grade (I think), but he was one of the smartest, wisest, and best people I have ever known. He spent his whole life farming, fishing, hunting, and raising a family. From a purely earthly perspective, I cannot imagine a better granddaddy than him! So much of what I think and how I think about life, people, and myself is because of him! I still think about him almost every single day!

It is good for us to reflect on the gifts that God has given us and to honor the people that He has used to make us who we are. Below is the eulogy that I wrote and delivered at his funeral service 10 years ago this summer.

Eulogy for Roy Franklin “Granddaddy” Hinson

June 13, 2011

Granddaddy was a lot of things to a lot of people.

He was a faithful loving husband.

In thirty years, I never saw or heard he and Grandmama fight or argue one time. I am sure they did, but I never saw it or heard it.

He was a good and caring father to my mama and her brothers.

He was a good brother.

He was a good son.

Of course, I knew him as granddaddy.

I can remember him getting mad three times in my life.

We were out in the side yard of the house on Marion Dodd Loop by where Richard’s dog Pepper’s house was. Me and Crissy and Jody were shooting a B B Gun toward the bean field. I still think I was pointing the gun toward a tree, but Granddaddy thought I was pointing it at Crissy. He jerked the gun out of my hand and spanked me with the stock of it. That was the only time he ever spanked me.

Another time, me and Jody were spending the night at their house, and it was time to go to bed. We were talking in the bed. He told us to be quiet a few times, and we kept talking. Finally, Granddaddy yelled from his bedroom: “I said to shut up.”

I also remember the only time I ever heard him cuss. I was sitting on the right fender of his 4020 and Jody was on the left fender. We were on the gravel by the shed about to go and do something. Granddaddy had gotten off the tractor to check something before we left, and he poked a hole in the oil filter or it came loose, or something because oil came pouring out all over. When he yelled, Jody and I looked at each other. We were shocked because Granddaddy didn’t talk like that. I had never heard him say anything like that before and I never did again.

If he were here, I’m sure he could tell us what year all of these things happened and how much rain we got that year and how the cotton crop was that fall.

I think the reason these stories stand out to me is because they were so rare. Only three times in thirty years did I ever see or hear him get mad.

A lot of Saturdays when I was growing up, mamma and Grandmamma and Crissy would spend the day shopping in Jackson, and Jody and I would spend the day with Granddaddy—riding the tractor with him, playing in the cotton trailers, fishing, or doing whatever he was doing. More than once, we would have to stop and drive to Jackson to jump-start their car where they had left the lights on. He never got mad or disgusted by that at all. He just laughed, and we would go do it. I think I remember one time even having to go do it twice in one day.

I also remember one winter it had snowed and the schools were delayed. Crissy and Jody and I were at the end of our driveway waiting on the school bus to come and Granddaddy drove up. He had been to the bank and brought us three candy canes. He told us to make sure that we ate them really fast so they would be gone before we got to school and we wouldn’t get in trouble.

I used to love spending the night or the weekend at their house for a lot of reasons. One reason was because he would let us stay up late. Our bedtime growing up was 8:00, but when we stayed there, we got to stay up and watch the news until after 10:00. Sometimes he would even stay up and watch The Honey Mooners with us. And, on occasion, he would even get us a piece of chocolate cake or pie for a midnight snack—but we had to promise not to tell Grandmamma.

One time me and Crissy and Jody had ridden our bicycles from their house on Marion Dodd Loop to the store. On the way to the store, we got chased by a dog at one of the neighbor’s houses. We were too scared to come back because of the dog, so we stood at the end of the road not knowing what to do. John Tate was with us, and he took his shoes off and started doing cartwheels or handstands. He thought if granddaddy was looking for us, he would be able to see his white socks sticking up better. After a while we saw Granddaddy driving toward us. He had gotten his binoculars out and seen us. He loaded our bicycles up and drove us to their house. On the way, he taught us how to get off of our bicycles and walk them passed a house with a dog because the pedaling made the dog think that we were kicking at him and he would try to bite our feet.

I used to love to spend the night at their house, but not by myself. I always wanted someone—Crissy or Jody—to stay with me. One time I was there by myself. I hadn’t said anything but Granddaddy could tell that I was homesick. He didn’t make a joke about it or ignore it, he told me about a time when he used to get homesick and how bad of a feeling that is.

When I was a kid, I thought Granddaddy knew absolutely everything. When I got older, I realized that he really did know everything. There was nothing he couldn’t do. And, if he didn’t know how to do something or fix something, he could always find a way or make a way. Not only that, but he also loved to teach other people how to do stuff. I remember lots of things that he taught me:

He taught me how to fish. How to bait a hook, cast without hooking someone behind me, how to get the fish off the hook. He never seemed to get tired of untangling my line or getting it out of a tree limb either.

He taught me how to shoot a gun.

He taught me how to drive a lawn mower.

One afternoon sitting under the back porch/patio area of their house, he taught me how to count the seconds that passed between when I heard thunder and when I saw lightening and tell whether a storm was getting closer or farther away.

He taught me how to pour a glass of Kool-Aid without spilling the whole pitcher on the counter.

He taught me how to shell black-eyed peas.

He taught me how to pat a dog on the side so that he would kick his back leg like he was scratching.

He taught me how to hold a fish so that I wouldn’t get stuck by his fin.

One day Granddaddy and Barry and Sammy Edmiston were going somewhere in the ton truck and me and Jody crammed in with them on their laps. Barry had picked a pecan up out of the yard and gave it to me to eat. He gave me the bitter orange part from inside the shell and told me to eat that. Granddaddy laughed and taught me how to separate the pecan next time so that it wouldn’t be bitter.

He taught me down at the shed one afternoon not to put a spray can in a fire or it would explode.

He taught me how you get a fishhook out of your hand if it gets stuck passed the barb.

He taught me how to read Reader’s Digest—especially the jokes sections.

He taught me how to like eating chicken gizzards.

He taught me how to get up and keep riding my bicycle whenever I fell off and skinned my knees up.

He taught me how to listen to my mama and do whatever she said. I didn’t always do everything he taught me, but I remember him teaching me that. And, if he was around, he made sure that I did it.

He taught me not to panic whenever the boat ran up on a stump. I knew that if Granddaddy was driving then he would be able to get it off if I just moved around to the back or whatever he told me to do.

He taught me to wear long sleeves when working outside in the summer to keep the sun off and to help stay cool.

You might be thinking that these are little insignificant things—and they are. But that is kind of the point—two points actually.

First, It is not just what he taught me. It is that he taught me these things. I remember not just the things that he taught me but I remember the way that he taught me, and the conversations we had—some of them almost word for word and exactly where we were and what we were doing.

Second, these are all little things, and if he hadn’t taught them to me then I would have learned them anyway. Someone else would have taught them to me. But, no one else had to because he did.

I realize that not everybody gets to have a Granddaddy like this, but, we did, and we are thankful!

Honoring a Terrific GrandfatherPastor Josh Wamble2023-01-03T17:54:57-05:00

They Made It Easy

Recently, we have had a number of older people at the church pass away, move away, move into a nursing home, or something else to that effect. It has really gotten me to thinking about what the church was like when I first moved here and how it has changed over that time. I moved to Louisville in December of 2005 and joined the church soon after.

At that time, with a few exceptions, the church was made up mostly of older people (60 and above) and a few younger people (30 and younger). There were hardly any members at all between the ages of 30 and 60. Most of the older members had been a part of the church for a long time. They had raised their families here, had faithfully served in leadership positions, had humbly served in different ministries, and had sacrificially given to the church and her ministries. Most of the younger members were very young—either seminary students fresh out of college or brand new believers. Many were from out of state. Few knew the history of the church or the community, but we were looking for a church family to join, serve, learn from, make mistakes in, gain experience among, and etc.

As we have been celebrating and mourning the several losses we have experienced lately, I have been thinking a lot about this generation of believers and the legacy they are leaving behind at FBC, Fairdale. I imagine that it wasn’t always easy for these older members to have a young inexperienced pastor or group of pastors in their 30s. I would have expected them to have a bit of a hard time with some of the changes that were discussed or put into place. I would have expected them to have been a bit hesitant to allow these younger people to serve in leadership or other positions in the church. It would have been easy for them to have resisted or blocked some of these things. They could have gotten disgusted or upset when mistakes were made, but they never did. They supported and encouraged and forgave and helped these younger leaders. They continued serving in various ways. They were quick to welcome new members and visitors in a fully genuine and willing way. They allowed us to be as fully members of the church as they had been for so many years. In many ways, they were ideal church members!

Over the last week, as we were thinking about and reminiscing about a recent death in the church, my thinking about this generation has crystallized in my mind. Their legacy, I think, is that they made it so easy to be church members here! They were generous with their church!

May we all seek to follow their example!

They Made It EasyPastor Josh Wamble2023-01-03T17:54:58-05:00