My father died 44 years ago today. I always remember.
He grew up in West Chicago, the second of five children. His father was a pastor and was more the scholarly type. (I inherited some of his books.) My dad loved baseball, once sneaking into some major league meetings with his brother to get the autographs of players like Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth. (I didn’t inherit those.)
After serving in the Navy, my father attended Bryan College in Tennessee and later Biola College in downtown Los Angeles. He entered Talbot Theological Seminary upon its inception and was in its first graduating class of seven. (I later attended both schools as well.) Dr. Charles Feinberg, Talbot’s founding dean, taught my first seminary class in Old Testament Introduction. He could be tough on certain students but was always kind to me, most likely because my father and I share the same name. (I’m Jim Jr.)
My dad seemed to love being a pastor. I remember him baptizing my great-grandmother in Whittier (we called her “The Amazon” because she was so big and tall) and barely being able to get her up out of the water. When I was a young child, our family drove from Anaheim to Sunnymead (now Moreno Valley) to a church he served as pastor there. During one Sunday night service, when my dad asked the congregation for “favorites” (hymns people specially requested by number), I raised my hand. Sitting on the front row, clothed in my pajamas, I asked for Hymn 100 – not because I knew the hymn, but because I had just learned the number “100.” The hymn was “Under His Wings,” and even though it’s disappeared from hymnbooks today, it’s never disappeared from my heart, because my father took me seriously. The congregation sang all three stanzas.
One Saturday night, when I was six, my dad led me to Christ, and he baptized me the following year. He later founded a church in Westminster which eventually moved to Garden Grove. Back in those days, many pastors built their churches by going door-to-door. (It was termed “calling.”) One or two nights every week, my father walked from house-to-house, sharing Jesus with anyone who would listen. Without any kind of staff, he slowly built a viable church.
Our family of five went to Sunday School and morning worship on Sunday mornings, as well as services on Sunday and Wednesday nights. (And we usually stopped at Savon for nickel ice cream cones afterwards.) At one Sunday night service, when I was 11, I sang a duet with my dad, the only time I ever did that. We sang “Now I Belong to Jesus.”
Every summer, my dad took a second job delivering telephone books. My brother and I would sit on the back end of our station wagon and place the books on porches as he called out the addresses. We saw a good deal of Orange County and Los Angeles that way.
The leaders of the church flipped on my dad a few years after the church’s founding. Two brothers and their families left the church, but six months later, the governing board asked them to return, and one of them was made chairman. This action was taken without my father’s knowledge or consent. He immediately resigned with nowhere to go and eventually became a milkman, but he wanted to get back into church ministry.
My father loved his family so much. Although he worked extremely hard, he always made time for his kids. He taught my brother John and I to play baseball and football (in the street) and basketball (in our front driveway). My poor mother had to listen to her boys throwing a tennis ball against the chimney for years, but we still got to do it. (Unless we hit a window – then all bets were off.)
My dad passed on his love of baseball to me and my brother. He brought home packs of baseball cards when I was just six and would comment on the abilities of the players. Bob Friend? He was a good ballplayer. Johnny Roseboro? He was a “meathead.” When my sister was born, my dad bought a box of baseball cards for both my brother and me while we waited in the hospital.
He also took my brother and me to many baseball games. My first game was at the Los Angeles Coliseum when I was just six. (The Pirates beat the Dodgers 5-2.) Before Dodger Stadium opened, we attended an Open House and I was able to run the bases. I got to see Hall of Famers play like Roberto Clemente, Duke Snider, Willie Mays, Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle, Stan Musial, and my favorite, Sandy Koufax. Although we didn’t have much money (we always parked a mile away to save a buck on parking, and we brought our own popcorn), my dad always made sure to spend time with his boys.
My dad could be a bit on the crazy side. In our home movies, he’s always goofing off. He made up nicknames for all my friends. He would take popular songs and insert our names in them. I can still remember him tossing us kids around and brushing our faces against his whiskers.
Our family went on vacations most summers: to Chicago (on the train), Yosemite, the World’s Fair in Seattle, Chicago again (by car on Route 66), and finally Sequoia National Park. I say finally because it was during that trip that my dad began having abdominal pains. He was initially diagnosed as having hepatitis, but was eventually diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Many people prayed for my father’s healing. His parents came out from Chicago and stayed with us during his illness. During that time, he came to a basketball game in which I was playing. I scored 10 points, pretty good for a Jr. High kid. He wouldn’t see me play again.
My dad was in and out of the hospital, and one Thursday morning, my mom told me before school, “Make sure to kiss your dad today.” I did. Several hours later, I was called out of US History class and met my mother in the school office, where she told me, “Daddy went to be with the Lord.” He was only 38.
Two days later, his funeral was held at a chapel in Westminster. To their credit, my friends came to his service. Five pastors gave eulogies, which we still have on tape. When Pastor Glen spoke (our neighbor from two doors down), he mentioned how he always saw my dad playing baseball with my brother and me in the street. I lost it.
My dad would have been proud that all three of his children still follow Jesus. Both his boys married missionary kids, my brother’s daughter married a pastor (who also graduated from Talbot), and my sister cares deeply about people in need, especially those without Jesus.
He never met my wife, or my children, but he would have loved them as his own. He would have been proud of my wife’s love for missions, the fact that both our kids are leaders in their churches, and that my son is marrying a fantastic Christian woman this summer.
My dad’s greatest legacy is that he showed me the importance of loving your family. Although he went through some tough times, we always knew how much he cared for us.
Six years after my father’s death, our church’s new pastor discovered that the board had hired me to work with youth for the summer. I dated and then married his daughter. My father-in-law has been my best ministry mentor over the years and has encouraged me in countless ways.
Nine years after my father died, my mother married a wonderful Christian man who is one of the greatest servants of Christ I have ever known. He was a missionary for three decades with the Navajos and is always looking for ways to serve Jesus. Many people have either a loving father or a loving step-father, but I have been privileged to have both, as well as a supportive father-in-law. I am truly blessed.
Sometimes I dream about my dad. The dreams are always happy. We’re either together on earth or together in heaven. Because of his faith in Christ, and the faith he passed on to me, I have the assurance we will see each other again. As Dr. Feinberg told me once when I saw him on campus, “Your father is dancing in glory.”
Someday, we’ll all dance together.
Dear Jim,
What a beautiful tribute to your dad and family. You made me cry at work when I read this blog:)! I wish I could of met your dad. I know he would of been so easy to love and be with, just like you.
But as you said, someday, I too will be dancing with him in glory. I can see us ALL holding hands and dancing in one big huge circle.
Thanks for carrying on your father’s legacy and passing it to me and our children and maybe soon our grandchildren.
Loving your committed wife. Kim
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Kim, thanks for your comments. Sorry to make you cry at work. My dad would have enjoyed meeting you (and your family) very much. Somehow I have the feeling that he knows a lot about us all anyway! I’ll try not to make you cry today. We may be a few years away from grandchildren, but we’re a lot closer than we were a few months ago!
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Dad,
This was a beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. I wish that I could have met your dad but take comfort and joy in the fact that one day I will and that we will get to all spend eternity together. Like Mom, I too cried when I read what you wrote. You truly are a gifted writer, so keep doing what you do best! I am grateful for the legacy that we have in our family and know that this legacy will continue to be passed down.
Love you!
Sarah
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Sarita, thank you so much for your kind words. It seems so odd, but I’ve lived 80% of my life without my father and only 20% with him. But that 20% marked me for life in a positive way, especially in the way Dad treated his family. I was very blessed to grow up in a loving family in a great community, as you did. Pass on the legacy!
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Uncle Jim,
I’m crying into my apron. What a beautiful tribute. I am convinced that your dad, your namesake, was a faithful prayer warrior. I believe he prayed greatly for his family, and his investments in you all did not come back void. God is so good. Thank you for sharing this.
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It’s great to hear from you, Jolene. I’m sure he did pray much for his family, but I know that everything he did had his family in mind. We always knew we were greatly loved by both of our parents. Say hi to Danny for me!
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Very touching. I’ve heard so many of your services, but never read them. Had I had the opportunity, I would have known sooner how gifted a writer you are. Keep up the good work!
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Thank you so much for sharing this with all of us.
Some of the stories I had heard and others were new, all of them brought tears to my eyes.
I am truly blessed to be a thread in the tapestry of his family’s lives.
In making Christ first in his life he truly made a lasting impact on this world, even though his time here was terribly short.
Thank you Jim for sharing this!!!
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Thanks so much for writing, Joy. My father would have loved you and found it ironic that his two sons both married MKs. The chances of that are what, astronomical? And the fact that your daughter also married a pastor … stranger than fiction, I guess. I’ll try and learn more stories and pass them along. I think Sarah keeps a safe with all the stories locked up … but she usually asks me to tell her Uncle John stories … and I always have a new one for her!
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Dear Jim:
Thank you so much for your thoughts on dad. It obviously brought back many many memories. Like when we went to Dodger’s stadium and they asked dad if we had any canned drinks in our bag of popcorn and dad said, “no” and when the security guard turned their head dad said, “let’s go” and we ran into the stadium with our drinks and popcorn. I always felt bad about that and a couple of years ago I sent $20.00 to Chavez Ravine (ha!ha! not really)
I also remember Sea World when dad said (I think it was Jan) was under the age limit for a free admission and she really wasn’t. We all got in for whatever the price was. Dad felt bad about it and the next day sent a letter to Sea World with the money (probably 50 cents or so). Sea Worlds response was to return to us a family pass for his honesty.
Another memory that I have was Dad and I on a Sunday evening at church where he and I sang a duet, “I believe the Promise is on the Way.” (note: WE WERE THE ONLY MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY ATTENDING THAT EVENING) Dad told me that I had the BEST voice of any of his kids….and he loved me best ….hahahaha!!!!! and then he took me to SavON and bought me a box of cards and a triple scoop of icecream and made me promise I would never share this story! After 40 years, this is weighng heavily on my heart and finally tonight I’ll sleep. And by the way….he also gave me his autographs of Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth (p.s. joy is typing this and wants to say ….before lightening hits I need to move)
love you Jim
johnny
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Okay, John, let’s take these one by one. I remember the first one – that was actually fun. And I remember Sea World as well. If you did sing a duet with Dad, it would have been “I Believe the Answer’s on the Way,” #43 in the chorus book. I must have been home praying or something that night. And as far as the autographs go … I think Dad’s mom threw them out … or the Meyer family sold them to buy a house or a church or something. Anyway, thanks for reading and keep it up! Love, Brother Jim
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Dear Jim,
Here is your Aunt Gloria writing from Berne, IN. We retired from our work in Pakistan in 1992, and aside from 10 trips to India, Pakistan and England, have been here since. You
remember that Merle died in 2006.
I appreciated what you posted about your dad. Actually, I saw so little of Jim after we grew up, that I’m glad your writing told me a bit more about his life. I think that you as a family came to Chicago by train when we were on our lst furlough in 1960, 61 or 62, and spent time with us then.
We can never fully know about how our life inpacted others, but know that the biggest influence is in our own families. Your dad didn’t put himself forward when he was a teenager. (He played the lead in “A Christmas Carol” during Hi School and never told my parents until the day it was put on! )
I’m sure you know that my daughter Amy Jo died in India from a brain tumor right after she gave birth (by C section) to her daughter Kiran, in 1999. Thankfully David was a very savvy father, and brought her up himself until she was 6. So the Lord compensates for our losses, and cares for us in so many ways. You lost a good dad too soon, I know.
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Thanks for your note, Aunt Gloria. It was great seeing you and Merle when you visited Santa Clara, around 1996 or so. I remember the story about you falling in the hole!
We came to Chicago on the train in 1960. We drove there in our station wagon in 1964. I really loved being there, especially with those summer storms and trips to Comiskey Park.
I’d like to know more about my dad’s childhood and teenage years. I think there’s a “Meyer modesty” that doesn’t allow us to sell ourselves to others. We just go about our business in a quiet, methodical way.
I still have some of Grandpa Meyer’s books and plan to give some to my children for posterity. They served me well for many years.
Yes, we remember about both Amy Jo and Merle. You and Merle would have loved talking to my wife’s parents, who were medical missionaries to the Muslims in Saudi Arabia for five years.
Thanks again for writing me, Aunt Gloria. I sent a copy of the article about my father to Carl and Donna since they don’t have a computer.
In Jesus’ Love,
Jim
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