Well, I’ve been getting back into the groove since jurisdictional conference. I’m excited to return as the Columbia District Superintendent, but I must admit that yesterday helped my spirits more than 3 days of Cabinet earlier in the week. A great friend who mentored me as a young pastor, J.E. Mozingo, died after a tough illness. On the golf course we called him “Down-the-middle-Mozingo.” He didn’t always hit the ball that far but it was ALWAYS down the middle. That was a metaphor for his life. He was always “in the middle” bringing other opinions and people together. He was on the Darlington County School Board when things were quite tense, and he was a voice of reason and a calming presence. J.E. was a peacemaker that got along with everyone. He held hands with both sides on tough issues.
J.E.’s wife, Bobbie, was my first funeral at Wesley Chapel. I have always deplored generic funerals, so I tried to be as accurate and tactful as I could about Bobbie. She was a rich character filled with spice and zingers. So I shared some of that in her funeral, maybe too much because after the service NOBODY said anything. No one said, “You really captured her!” or anything like it. I crept away from the cemetery feeling lousy that I had evidently overstepped the boundaries of decorum.
About an hour after the funeral, J.E. called me and in a voice sounding more gruff than it really was, said, “Preacher, Are you going to be at the parsonage?” I replied sheepishly, “Yes.” Then J.E. said, “Well, I’m coming over to see you. I’ve got a tip for you.” I freaked out. What kind of tip, “piece of information,” was J.E. going to lay on me? He came inside and we went into the huge living room and he talked about this, that, and everything else. He had me twisting in the wind and my tension mounted to the point that I finally said, “Alright, J.E., what about the tip?” He looked at me and pulled out some cash, saying, “I thought it was a damn good funeral.” I apologized over and over again saying that I had misunderstood him, but over the years, 27 to be exact, J.E. always got a laugh out of me asking for the tip, the “piece of information.” We were close from then on.
I know his family and his cadre of friends will miss him. He was such a wonderful gentleman! He was a farmer who could work himself dirty but he could also dress up like nobody’s business. He was authentic wherever he was because he was always real and relational – in touch with his environment and the people in it. He reminded me of my Daddy.
My Dad had a hard life – mixed blood and an 8th grade dropout. When he asked for my mother’s hand in marriage her father didn’t even turn around. He reportedly said under his breath, “You make your bed hard, you’ve got to sleep in it.” Mamma and Daddy ran off to the Methodist preacher’s parsonage one town over. When my mother’s parents sent out the none-too-happy wedding announcement they even spelled my Dad’s name wrong.
He spent the rest of his life proving them wrong. He overcame adversity after adversity and he did it the same way J.E. Mozingo did. Both of them had an uncanny knack of being really present with people, with all God’s creatures. With Daddy I think it was his native blood. Gosh, he could read people and in a Crocodile Dundee sort of way, he could talk to the animals. One of my most treasured possessions is this picture with my Dad standing out in an open field with his hand on a cow’s shoulder with her calf off to the side. If you know anything about cattle, you know that you can’t just do this. It’s amazing. I saw Daddy do this sort of thing over and over again with animals and people.
So, I thank J.E. Mozingo for reminding me of life’s greatest pleasure – being in touch. After the pain of jurisdictional conference and the angst of coming back into what some call an administrative job like being a District Superintendent, it was good to be behind the pulpit yesterday. I was back at home. Those who know me are quite aware that my superintending is an “in touch” kind, too. I’ll never be a bureaucrat. Like my Daddy and J.E. Mozingo – I’ve got to be hands on and love on people including all of God’s marvelous creation. That’s who I am and ever want to be. Thanks, J.E., for giving me another tip this weekend! I needed it so I could be renewed in my call!
7 thoughts on “In Touch”
Amen, Tim! Beautifully written. You are always “in touch” and are a wonderful pastor, as well as administrator. Thank you for sharing your gifts with SC.
Just like you told me several months ago, you are right where you belong. Thanks friend.
Amen to your comments! I for one am disappointed that the “run” for the episcopacy didn’t go as planned. Yet, your loss is OUR gain! God bless!
Love this and you and your family. You will always be my favorite pastor – You married me & Jody, buried my father and christened my sweet baby girl Jayme – I loved Mr. J.E. and hate I missed you speaking at his funeral – Your description of him is perfect – God bless you and your family.
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You did a wonderful job at Mr. J.E.’s funeral. It was so evident to all of us who heard just how much you both loved and admired him. You certainly haven’t lost your knack for personalizing a funeral, and you are every bit as good as I remember in the pulpit! I have such fond memories of your days at Wesley Chapel.
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