mister bill

The events and thoughts of the last week or so are whirling around in my brain, unresolved, and I'm not certain that there is anything to be gained from putting them out for public view other than to prove that the website is still active, but there is a cathartic effect on my mind, so perhaps that is sufficient justification.

--

Bill Snell died suddenly on October 9th, my parents' 51st anniversary. It was an odd coincidental turn of events. Perhaps God in his infinite wisdom is trying to say something by this, but if that is the case, the meaning is beyond me. Bill was Dad's best friend for so many years; was this in some way a gift to Bill on the occasion of his friend's anniversary, to be relieved of earthly cares, brought home at last to hear those words, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter into the rest of thy Master"? I would like to think so.

We will all miss Mister Bill, but I'm sure he would want us to keep everything in perspective. This was his destiny. This was his reward for a lifetime of hard ork. This is what his whole life was leading up to, leaving this world prepared for the next.

He was ready. And he wanted to make sure that the rest of the people in the world were ready as well. His was a vast and all-encompassing ambition. But this ambition was completely unselfish; his confidence was unshakeable; his friendship and eternal good-naturedness were inspiring; his loyalties were unwavering; his ability to share joy in his music and teaching were truly a gift from God.

I have many, many happy memories of Bill, not the least of which are those times spent listening to him play his banjo or watching as he and my father worked on Volkswagens together. But there are a couple that stand out in my mind.

The first occurred on one of our neighborhood door-knockings, when we went out to the houses around the Hermitage Road church to invite them to attend an event - I don't recall the details, whether it was VBS or a workshop or a prayer meeting or some other evangelistic effort. But I do recall that we were paired up to go out and knock on doors, and my partner happened to be Bill.

This is going to be easy, I thought. Bill will do all the talking, and I'll just stand beside him and smile, and not have to say anything at all. Because it would be crazy to imagine that, of the two people coming to someone's door, the little (and I do mean little) kid would do the talking and the extremely tall (he was a giant in my eyes), very intimidating adult would stay silent.

So of course you know what happened.

Bill and I walked up to the front door, and just as we got to the porch, Bill nudged me forward and indicated that I was to take the lead role in this enterprise. Needless to say, I was shocked. But he just smiled and nodded at me; and I, in absolute terror for my life, knocked on the door and then stood there as the people came to see what was going on, looking at me as though I were strangely diseased, while he stood slightly behind me with a friendly grin on his face. And I blabbered and stumbled and turned a few shades of red - but I got through it. And he was right behind me to say, "Good job!"

I didn't realize it at the time, but he was doing me a great favor by letting me do the talking. He already knew how to talk to people, and he also knew that he could be somewhat intimidating due to his nature and his size, so there was really nothing to be gained by doing all the work himself. It was I who needed the practice in the social skills, I who needed to learn how to handle these situations, and he wasn't going to let this teaching opportunity pass by. After each house, he would encourage me with words of praise for my efforts, and perhaps point out a thing or two I could improve upon. By the end of that neighborhood walkabout, I felt vastly more confident in approaching strangers and telling them about God.

The second memory is not so much a single event as a multitude of events all smooshed together in my mind, but centering on the same theme. See, Dad and Bill were always working on their Volkswagens. They are great little cars to practice basic auto mechanics on, especially for people who don't have a lot of time or fancy equipment. We'd go over to Bill's house to work on his cars, and Bill would come over to our house to work on Dad's. And the country music would be playing on the radio (I particularly remember hearing Elvis on a few occasions, so you can probably guess the decade). And Bill and Dad would be talking about something mechanical. And there would be a slight difference of opinion on some particular mechanical detail of the engine or the framework. And Bill would declare that something was this, and Dad would say, no, it's that; and Bill would get adamant about it, although he never raised his voice, and Dad would counter that, no, I really think it's this; and then they'd consult a manual or they'd tear into the part to verify it. And whenever it turned out that Bill was wrong, he'd just turn to Dad and say, "Well, of course it is!" (or something like that), and they'd laugh together, and go on fixing the car.

Bill was so incredibly humble about that, never ashamed to admit when he was wrong, always ready to learn something new, always ready to laugh at his mistakes. A true man of humility.

If there was ever any pride in him, other than the natural pride in his wife and children - and that went along with his infinite loyalty to family - it was the pride that a servant takes in his Master. He loved serving God. He extolled the virtues of God, and seemed to take infinite joy in the Word of God. He placed his trust and confidence in the Scriptures, studying them til he could quote them forwards and backwards, giving him the ability to speak with unshakeable confidence to the world as he tried to inspire them to follow God as he did.

He will be sorely missed for awhile, but it is our hope and confidence that we will see him again, and maybe this time God will grant me the ability to play my guitar well enough to keep up with Bill's banjo-playing, and we'll be able to make some great music together.