Some People I Have Known In Christ

Paul wrote an interesting section of scripture in 2 Corinthians 12:2 that gives pause to reflect on some special people I know in Christ. He said,

"I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago—whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows—such a man was caught up to the third heaven."

Without taking the time to exegete the context, I will simply affirm that the "man in Christ" Paul speaks of is himself. He was the one who was "caught up to the third heaven" – a figurative way to refer to the Spirit’s revelatory works in Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ (see also Galatians 1:11-12).

Given the context of Paul’s writing, it would be obvious for me to say that one of the special people I know in Christ is me, myself. Of course, one should tread softly on the ground that threatens to swallow him in self-deceit, so it will have to suffice to acknowledge that though I know Royce, there are things about him I do not like.

I want to tell you about some other people I have known in Christ.

A. A. McInroe

Unless you were raised about the cattle range regions of Hereford, Texas or roamed through the churches of West and North Central Texas, you’ve probably never heard of A. A. McInroe. He was my mentor in the pulpit.

Brother McInroe came to work with the church just a few years after my dad died. Brother "Mc", as he was lovingly known by the saints, was a powerful preacher of the gospel. He was the man who first took me under his wing, saying, "Look son, if you’re going to preach, you’re going to have to get some things straightened out. And, you’re going to start by memorizing scriptures. Here’s the first one…"

When I think of A. A. McInroe, I think of the one thing that, in my estimation, makes one man stand head and shoulders over his peers. Brother McInroe truly lived the gospel he preached. He was immeasurably filled with the grace of God, and was a man of strength and forcefulness tempered by kindness and mercy.

If there was only one thing to commend brother McInroe it would be this: Out of the almost 45 years of my knowledge of the faithful church in one West Texas city, only one young man came out as a preacher, and brother McInroe was his mentor.

Judd Strother

You may not realize it, but I’ve told you about Judd Strother many times. Oh, I don’t always mention his name; I just mention the wonderful influence he had on me as an elder of the church where Lee and I were serving God.

Judd Strother was a quiet man. He spoke very little. Some even thought him to be dull (geniuses are that way, you know). Even in meetings of the eldership, he would say very little. He might nod his agreement, or make a stilted and clipped comment, but he was never vocal in the sense that others are vocal.

Like E. F. Hutton, when brother Strother spoke, people listened. His words were filled with the rich insight of a man who has drunk deep of the wisdom of God. When the ship of the Lord was headed for the sandbar of destruction, he would calmly take the helm and steer her back into the safety of the deep. Along the way, all of us who were already writing our spiritual Last Wills and Testaments came to know the assurance of Divine calmness manifest in the words and actions of brother Strother.

Judd Strother is gone now. My last memory of him is from within a few months of his death. He had suffered for years with the ravages of Alzheimer Syndrome and when we last saw him, he was curled up in a fetal position. His precious wife, Minnie (herself sticken with severe rheumatiod arthritis) was always there with him, gently brushing away the hair from his forehead or placing a cool washcloth around his neck. He’s gone now, but I knew him: a man-a real man in Christ.

Dearl Tucker

Several years ago, I was really hurting. I had been in three successive local works that were difficult and disappointing. In one, I had been summarily fired by an eldership that had a corrupting, malignant disease in one of its three legs. The other legs were unable to stand by themselves, so the entire stool fell. My greatest regret is that my own mistakes contributed to the burden that pressed upon that stool, but when it fell, it fell hard.

Leaving there, we went to a place we hoped would help us raise our young children in the Spirit of Christ. Little did I realize just how debilitated I was by that time, and in a short time it was evident that a great cataclysmic event was shortly to take place, an event I was not capable of resolving. I was low and getting lower. I was hurting and feeling every fiery dart from the Evil One.

Then, God brought me Dearl Tucker. I would like to say that God brought me to Dearl Tucker, but Dearl might argue with that!

I first met brother Tucker when I got off the airplane with my new tan slacks thoroughly soaked with the coffee stains from a jostled coffee tray in the hands of a harried stewardess. She had profusely apologized, and we tried to soak up the wetness with three dozen napkins, but the damage was done. When I exited the plane, there against the wall in his khakis, cowboy boots, straw hat and belt-buckle was Dearl Tucker. He chuckled when he saw the stains on the pants of that dude-of-a-California preacher.

By the time we had driven the 53 miles home, we had talked in depth about the needs of the church. Somewhere close to St. Mary’s Cemetery jet lag would not let me continue any longer, so as Dearl drove across the coastal bend of Texas toward his home, I drifted into the land of dreams and sugar-plum fairies.

Thus, began almost nine years of deep, Divinely-provisioned healing. The loving demeanor of good people who loved one another, but loved God more, worked the magic of profound healing in my soul.

It should have been evident that was my destiny, at least for some period of time, after I had told the brethren about every recent trial we had endured and supplied names within the troubled churches of our past. If at that early point in time I ever doubted this countrified "hick", he quickly brought it all to an end when he gathered the church and informed them, with me there, that he had called every person on the list I gave him. He reviewed his notes for the church and then gave his judgment, "In my opinion, brother Bell has told us the truth. He has even told us things that we would never have been able to know without him telling us. I’ve talked with these people, and I can tell you that the Devil is alive and well in California, today."

He never faltered. He never wavered. He never raised his voice. He never shrank from his duty. But, he did tell me off a couple of times. He did straightforwardly rebuke those who deserved it. Most importantly, almost singlehandedly, his were the hands God used to heal my hurting spirit.
I've always thought of Dearl Tucker as the Gamaliel of Refugio, Texas. I was a mess when I got there, but Dearl Tucker helped me become the man to assume the work in San Bernardino, the most important work of my life.