In all of God’s worlds, in the whole of creation,
Never has
there been, nor will be, such a being,
Philosopher,
editor, sharp-witted contrarian,
Endless
communication, not once a key keying.
The son of a
preacher would reform the tradition,
Climbing
Calvin’s Ladder above the theological fray,
Yet grounded
by Gwen’s unexpected expectation,
Blazing
terminal inertia with Eerdmans did he stay.
Stay he did,
through Presidents Johnson through Obama,
Authors,
colleagues bettered, as iron sharpens stone,
Able to
better any author, from Calvin to the Dalai Lama,
Would they
have listened to him loquaciously intone.
His craft
extends from books to persons unaware,
A desk for a
boat, time for friends, for grandchildren,
Wishes and
prayers, as he fares where he will fare,
Many will
miss the wise steps of our fellow pilgrim.
Grace for
the days ahead,
Gratitude
for the days behind,
Bittersweet
the moment,
Until we
fellowship,
Again.
