"There was a certain humility with which he approached life. He understood that the best way to lead was in service to others. Life becomes more meaningful when we accept that the way we live is our strongest testament. Our actions — the way we speak to people, the warmth in our gaze, the tenor in our tone."
I was 6 at the time and didn’t quite grasp the confluence of circumstances that had brought us all under the same roof. Here were Black men striving to get back on their feet — strong men who had encountered some bumps on life’s journey; recovering alcoholics, drug addicts, former inmates, homeless individuals, all attempting to assimilate back into society. There were men both feared and shunned by society.
Once a week I would accompany my father to the Potter's House. His paternal concerns for my safety were overshadowed by a deeper need to teach me lessons that he knew could not be internalized otherwise. There, he would introduce me to the gentlemen, and we would sit together in fellowship — brotherhood — over a meal. My dad would listen to their stories, and he would share his. After a few minutes of singing together, he would present a devotional thought, and the men would all pray together; “Men ought often to pray ...” (Luke 18:1) He always had a Bible verse, poem or quote for life’s situations.
My father possessed an understanding of the need for genuine connection. He understood the issues of life that plague us all. Our battles with self-acceptance, hopelessness, failure, anxiety, inadequacy. He was a living testament that God’s grace was unquestionably sufficient.
There was a certain humility with which he approached life. He understood that the best way to lead was in service to others. Life becomes more meaningful when we accept that the way we live is our strongest testament. Our actions — the way we speak to people, the warmth in our gaze, the tenor in our tone.
My father showed me what it was to be other-centered. You are rarely called to help at a time that is convenient for you. For those in need, timing is even less convenient. His struggles early in life acquainted him with the symptoms of loneliness and despair. God had saved my father in his lowest moments, and he felt an obligation to ensure that his life was not lived in vain. He served a God that loved and cared so deeply for us. It would be inhumane not to make an attempt to love and care for those around us.
He was guided by the Holy Spirit and his keen intuition. Life is teaching us, constantly! Lessons abound in both our blunders and achievements. “If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.” (Rudyard Kipling). Our very survival is contingent on our ability to think deeply and critically. Kipling reminds us, “If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim …” As a man who exhibited deep spirituality, he taught me the power of independent thought and belief in self. “If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them,” was his frequent reminder.
The moments I miss him most reveal to me how blessed I am. If my current grief is the price for experiencing the life of my father firsthand, I will gladly pay it 100 [times] over. He showed me that no matter what lies ahead, our duty is to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
Elijah Horton lost his father, Pastor Michael Horton, a month before Elijah’s 35th birthday.
