March 3, 2008
February 25, 2008
In memoriam, Alvin Luther Autrey
To meet him was to be blessed by him. To be around him was to know that he was more than a man. To hear him was to become convinced that he knew God in a way that others didn’t. To know him was to have your life impacted forever.
My family went to Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Jonesboro, GA in December of 1976, if I’m not mistaken. All these years later, I’m not sure if Al and his family were already attending there but it seems that they were. Either way, it would be a short time before I met this man who would become my mentor and friend.
Though Al wasn’t trained in any Bible college or seminary, he influenced every man who ever served as his pastor and every young man called to preach at the church. I don’t know how long he taught in youth Sunday School, but I know that there have been decades worth of lives he’s influenced as kids listened to his teaching and encouragement and experienced his love during those formative years. I’ll never forget, as a high school aged boy, standing around with some friends one Sunday morning in the lobby of our church building yakking it up about probably nothing. Al walked over, leaned into the circle with hand extended and said, “Hello, men!” After he’d shaken hands and walked away, one of our group looked around and said, “Well, if Al says we’re men, I guess it’s time to grow up.” Another time, after my wife-to-be and I had only been dating for a few months, I was out on church visitation with Al. As part of a far ranging conversation he said, “Bobra (Mrs. Autrey’s name is “Barbara,” but he always pronounced it ‘Bobra’)…Bobra has already prognosticated that you are going to be marrying Sonya.” I don’t recall my verbal response to his statement, but inside I was thrilled; I still am after 24 years.
When I had a crisis of faith that brought me to my knees, there was only one person to whom I could talk and that was Al Autrey. When we sat together, he wisely did not try to convince be that I was saved, but allowed the Holy Spirit to finish His convicting work unto salvation.
Al was with us on camps, retreats, visitation, at revivals, Bible studies. He never stopped encouraging. Not long after I got to New Bethany, he was able to pull away from his own responsibilities and come to hear me preach a time or two. After one service, when I had preached from Hebrews 11, he said, “That’s the best I’ve ever heard on faith.” Now, I know everyong he had heard because I had heard them, too. I don’t know whether it was really the best he’d heard, but I know it encouraged me for him to say that. “Marty, God’s gonna use you.” “Son, God’s given you wisdom beyond your years.” “There’s no telling what God’s going to do with you.” Over and over again I heard this kind of affirmation from Al.
Al had a brother named “Turtle” who was probably best friend my Dad ever had. More than ten years ago, Turtle was killed in a tragic accident while my parents were on a trip out west. At first we did not even know where or if we might find them, but were finally able to leave a message at a camp where they were staying. When my Dad called me, I began the conversation with, “There’s been an accident…” About 5 years ago, while on a retreat in Florida, I received a call from Sonya that began, “Honey, there’s been an accident…” I didn’t even have to ask “Who?” only “What and how bad?”
At the tender young age of 65 or so, Al was playing kick ball with a bunch of kids on a Wednesday night. For some reason, they were inside the building rather than on a field. In the course of the game, Al lost his balance and fell face first into the corner of a table. The angle and velocity of his fall caused the edge of the table to start at an area around his upper lip and proceed to peel his face almost from his skull. He almost died there from suffocation from the blood that was flowing. Al had several surgical procedures, but the doctors never were able to get things exactly right. One beneficial side effect from all the reconstructive work was that he got the effect of a face lift out of the deal. I always thought that was cheating.
At some point, cancer appeared. Started as prostate and went into remission once. Came back and couldn’t be stopped. As with so many who suffer with it, chemo was not very effective and, while it showed some promise at a time, didn’t bring the healing we all desired. After the blood counts were indicating a lack of progress, Al finally asked the doctor, “Why should I have more treatments?” The doctor replied, “To help you maintain a quality of life.” Al’s response was, “If this is a quality of life, then I don’t want any of it. I’m ready to go be with my Savior.”
After that decision, Al and Barbara had hundreds of visitors to their home. Since they live half-a-mile past the ends of the earth, almost no one drove less than an hour and many drove two or more. The man at the local hardware store stopped by…and cried. Cashiers from the local grocery store came to visit. Former co-workers came to visit. One former youth pastor drove in from Alabama while another flew in from Colorado to spend just a few more hours with this man. His church brought an entire bus load of people.
Alvin Luther “Al” Autrey went to be with Jesus Sunday, February 24 at about 2:30 in the morning. He’s left behind his wonderful family-Barbara, Connie, Resie, Lori and Chad (some with spouses), some grandkids, brothers, a sister, sisters-in-law, his Mom and impacted lives, the number of which only God Himself can count.
Al, I miss you already. I love you and I’ll see you soon. Tell Turtle not to drink all the coffee.
December 10, 2007
Shopocalypse Now–Worth The Read
Dallas Morning News columnist Rod Dreher has written a marvelous piece on the commercialization of Christmas. From the article:
To be sure, as exploitative as the right-wing outrage sometimes is, it really is appalling to have to endure the pettiness of the American Civil Liberties Union and sundry village atheists, who seem deathly afraid that somebody somewhere might have some theistically inclined fun this time of year. That said, I can’t recall an actual ACLU lawsuit or politically correct blue-nosery interfering with my celebration of the holiday. Can you?
and…
Here’s the thing: Aside from acquiring a Christmas tree, little of this involves commerce. It’s crazy talk, I know, but trust me, it really is possible to enjoy the season without giving oneself over to the frenzy and anxiety of the shopping ritual. In fact, actively resisting the commercialization of Christmas has become the only sane response in a culture where compulsive shopping has taken on the trappings of mass psychosis.
You can read the entire article here.
Charlie Brown would be proud of you, Rod.
September 29, 2007
Honeydo, Honeydone
Every man knows what the “honeydo” list is. “Honey, do this. Honey, do that.” It’s the list of things that typically drive wives absolutely batty because, in a house of near perfection, all that can be seen is that black mark on the baseboard or that puncture in the sheetrock.
Of course, most honeydo lists are not that minor; many of them are major: the shutters are falling off the house, there is a tree growing in the gutter, the house needs painting inside and out, the furniture is falling apart, the brakes are squealing, the engine is knocking and on and on.
We’ve been in our current house for about 7 and a half years. That’s how long my honeydo list had become. We had stuff in the basement that needed to go to the dump, a trey ceiling to paint, hardwood flooring to finish, trees to cut down, mulch to load and spread, and more. So I took an entire week off to do nothing but honeydo’s and got about twelve separate projects done. Of course, there are a couple of more that just got started and may not be finished until the next honeydo week rolls around.
Sonya is a great project manager. We had some furniture that needed to be recovered. She went on the internet and studied a few sites, bought the appropriate tools and spent about a week recovering an ottoman and a loveseat. She refinished the cabinets in our master bathroom and created the textured painting that adorns the walls. She has the ability to look at a project and say, “That will take about ten hours.” Then, she will break it up into five 2-hours segments and be done in a week.
I look at a project and say, “That will take about ten hours. Heck, I ain’t got ten hours–I’m going to the mall.” Thus, I end up with a week long honeydo list.
Can anyone else sympathize with this? Who is the procrastinator in marriage (if you are married) and which style represents you if you are single?
