Glenn McDonaldZPC Senior Pastorremarks made by Glenn McDonald during the Jordan Family Celebration on Sunday, August 17, 2008
It all began with Bob’s resume. Back in 1992, when George Bush was president – that would be the first George Bush – we were sorting through a stack of official Presbyterian personal information forms in our search of a good candidate for associate pastor. Bob’s stood out like no other. It began with three words: “I love God.” I am confident that you are here this afternoon because you have experienced the fact that those aren’t just words for Bob. They have always been his way of life.
But I also happen to know that most of you have never experienced what it’s like to go to work every day knowing that Bob is just on the other side of the wall. For a couple of minutes, it’s my privilege to pull back the veneer and reveal something of Bob the pastor, Bob the partner, and Bob the friend.
Let’s begin with Bob’s title. He had only been here a short while when a
ZPC member, who shall go unnamed, typed out a list of our church’s staff members. What should have been next to Bob’s name was ASSOC, the abbreviation for associate. Unfortunately, the S and the W being dangerously close to each other on the standard keyboard, a typing error occurred. Bob’s title was listed as ASWOC. All of us asked the same question: “What does it mean that Bob is an AS-WOC?” Now, we could have confessed the whole thing to God right then and there. But why do that when you can keep it alive for more than ten years?
For a reason we’ve never been able to discern, certain people outside ZPC haven’t been able to get Bob’s name right, let alone his title. I spent a whole day with him in which a nice man kept introducing him as Bob Parker. A representative from presbytery came to one of our session meetings and kept saying, “And it’s so nice to be here again with my friend, Rob Jordan.” Eventually we settled on simply calling him Rob Parker.
Bob has taken all of that in stride, which is amazing considering his commitment to the martial arts. Before the end of this month, Bob and his son Matt expect to be formally tested and then granted the status of black belt in karate. So don’t try anything fast when you give either one of them a hug later this afternoon – you aren’t going to get away with it.
Over the years, Bob and I have done quite a bit of traveling together. We’ve shared conferences and retreats and workshops and mission trips. Ultimately we discovered that our conversations with each other were often more productive than listening to the speakers who were headlining those seminars. During one conference we took turns passing a piece of paper back and forth. Bob had had this idea that we ought to make a list of what we might call the Marks of a Disciple. We started out with ten, then got down to four, and ultimately ended up with six.
I really wanted seven. I mean, who makes a list of six things, when most everything in the Bible comes in sevens? I had even identified the seventh mark: Feet to Go. It would convey motion and action. Bob said, “Feet to Go sounds like something you order as take-out at a borderline restaurant.” All in all, that discussion and that piece of paper ended up becoming the
Six Marks of a Disciple – something that’s been a blessing to this and to many other churches.
When Bob and I were on the road, it was sometimes a struggle to sleep in the same room with him because of his habit of snoring. Oh, wait, I’m sorry. This paper appears to be upside-down. When Bob and I were on the road, it was sometimes a struggle for him to sleep in the same room with me because of my habit of snoring. For a while my dreams were haunted by the words, “Glenn, could you turn over, please?”
Sometimes we didn’t bother with the overnight stay at all. For that matter, we didn’t even bother with attending a particular event. All we did was take a day trip together, just to talk in the front seat of my car. One day we drove to Nashville, TN, and back. Another time we drove to the northwest side of Chicago just to talk, and plan, and dream, and to eat at a Brazilian restaurant that we both really liked. An amazing partnership, and an amazing friendship, was forged over those many miles.
It wasn’t always easy. I remember once we had lunch at Houlihan’s, and we became so frustrated with each other that we wondered if we could even figure out how to listen to each other. But God used those times for his glory.
Now, if you’re starting to think, “Man, these guys sure did a lot of eating for God’s glory,” you’re right. Eat a lot together a lot. We learned the sheer wisdom of that. Of course, Bob and Vicky first had to make the transition from California cuisine to Hoosier home-style cooking. Bob once explained to me that food in California is, and I quote, “A small portion served on a large white plate at a high price.” Food in Indiana, on the other hand, is served with the question, “Would you like gravy on that?” It was always fascinating to see Bob’s response to the lunches that were served at presbytery meetings. He coined the term “meat pod” to describe the typical entrée. And I learned never to talk about, joke about, or even think about green peas when sharing a meal with Bob.
From the very beginning of his time here, Bob has made a difference in people’s live. He had been at ZPC for only two weeks when he was driving on Michigan Road on a rainy day in his small, red Dodge Colt. A truck carrying diesel fuel swerved to miss another car and tipped over on its side right out there in front of the church. Fuel began to pour out onto the road. Bob and another man rushed to the cab of that truck and got the driver out. Bob’s ministry literally began with pulling people to safety. It has always been about leading people to the ultimate security of trusting God.
His boundless creativity has blessed us. Think of the white sheets that have been in our bulletins for the last five years; recall the vision for Get a Grip on the Bible, with its 40 storyline icons; and think of Weekend in the Word.
Bob’s playfulness is a blessing, too. This may seem like a very small thing, but last summer, when Bob married my son Jeff to his wife Christina, Bob went out of his way in his wedding homily to mention Cave Dwellers, which happens to be one of the worst movies ever made. The McDonalds and the Jordans were almost certainly the only people laughing at that moment in the sanctuary, but it was a small gift of friendship that was graciously given.
You may not know it, but for a number of years the pastors here at ZPC have taken a great risk with each other. After one of us preaches the first service, the others – who have been present to listen – provide a serious evaluation of the teaching and the leadership. Comments may range from, “God was truly honored by how you served this morning,” to, “What were you thinking?” Pastors can be neurotic, you know, and our egos foolishly fragile. But we have endeavored to help each other, even at the cost of discomfort.
Bob’s comments have always been amazingly insightful. He almost always concludes by saying, “Glenn, provide something more specific – tell us how we can actually do what you’re talking about.” A couple of weeks ago, just after the first service, we both began to tear up at the thought that our mutual part in this important ritual was coming to an end.
Most people in the Body of Christ, at one time or another, experience gift envy. We wish we had a particular ability or empowerment that God decided not to give to us. A number of times I’ve heard Bob sigh, “I wish I could sing. I wish I could make these notes sound beautiful.”
Bob, you do sing. In the way you serve, and love, and encourage us, you sing a song that no one else has ever sung. And even if someone might get your name wrong from time to time, God knows your name. And God knows your heart. Thank you for coming to us with the words, “I love God.” Much more, thanks for leaving a legacy of exactly what that looks like.
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