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Preacher: Elam Jonathan Anderson

Eulogy given at Elam’s Memorial Service Jan 10, 2015

By his son, Jonathan Anderson,

 

August l7, 1958 my father Elam J. Anderson preached a sermon from the pulpit of Lakeshore Baptist Church in Oakland California; the church that was sending him and a small entourage to plant a new congregation in the Blossom Hill neighborhood of San Jose.

it's a wonderful sermon, filled with all the zealous themes of a fiery, red-headed, Evangelical Baptist Preacher. And though his rhetoric softened ever so slightly throughout the years, the CHALLENGING CONTENT of what he preached that day did not fade.

Despite eventual rejection by the powerful families who helped plant that church,

across the soul-searching transition from Baptist to Methodist polity and doctrine,

throughout mostly-three-year appointments from church-to-church,

and unto a marginalized reception by both Methodist and Baptist circles in his retirement.

His was not the commonly called "Social Gospel" that watered down the historic Truths of Scripture and rendered Mainline Clergy as little more than "Social Workers in Robes."

No. The Gospel Elam Anderson lived and breathed

at home.

in the pulpit,

in the living rooms of church members,

on the floor of denominational conventions,

and in each of the communities in which he too-briefly resided,

his Gospel was one of Hope in and Salvation through Jesus Christ followed by responsibility and service as obedient and maturing Disciples.

This "Church Planting" sermon from 1958 put before the people Jesus‘ dual commission to "make disciples" and then "feed his sheep."  To introduce, nurture and invite people into a Saving Relationship with Jesus Christ in all his biblical/scriptural/orthodox Glory...and then to school, train, mentor and deploy believers to repeat and perpetuate that pattern until the Whole World would See Jesus.

We could almost read the entire Epistle of James and just call it a day!

But the passage read by Steve Sprecher (James 3113-1 8) was significant in that it was dad's last devotional, Sunday night after his five sons and their families had left for their own homes after a Christmas gathering here in McMinnville...the first gathering in several years when all five of us were together at one time.

The devotional was from this William Barclay commentary series ... the pages tattered and yellowed by years of working his way through one edition and then the next, and then starting all over again.  Both the scripture passage from James 3 and the commentary by Barclay were fitting snapshots of Dad's character: a "man of the true wisdom of God." James the brother of Jesus needed eight words to define this "wisdom from above". Picture how each of these fit Elam's character:

pure.                              peaceable.                  considerate.

willing to yield.          full of mercy.              Full of good fruits,

undivided in mind. and                                without hypocrisy

Like the 12 points of the Scout Oath, that I think Dad helped me memorize about the same time he began teaching me some of the Psalms beside my bed each night...

A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal Helpful,

Friendly, Courteous, Kind,

Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty,

Brave, Clean and Reverent.

Dad was all of these, and more! It should be no wonder that those character qualities find ready parallels in scripture: founder Lord Baden-Powell established Scouting as a way to instill the lifelong PRACTICE of Christian faith in ways that were tangible, exciting, and of a practical benefit to society. In fact, the current tagline for Boy Scouts of America is “Prepared. For Life.”

Some of my brothers will most likely comment on Dad's lifelong volunteering in the Scouting program and his heart's satisfaction at nudging all five sons through to Eagle Scout.

But dad's MINISTRY with men, women and children was just like that. Looking back through his sermons these last two weeks, I find them to be heavily weighted with constant appeals for church-attenders to internalize the Gospel of Jesus Christ and live it out in their daily interactions with family, friends and foes alike.

The Beatitudes from Jesus‘ "Sermon on the Mount" was one of those early passages   Dad taught me at night before tucking me in (Matthew 5: 1-16):

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

7 Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I1 ‘Blessed we you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward n heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

That last one was a Beatitude Dad practiced consistently. No one could fault his PASTORAL CARE — he visited in homes and hospitals, took communion, spent long hours with the grieving. But many took exception to his continual outreach to people OUTSIDE of the church, as well as his constant "sticking his nose" into local political affairs dealing with public morality:

In particular. I recall his one-man campaign in Monroe against a City campaign to extend liquor incenses to 2 dozen establishments in a town with only 800 residents. I don‘t remember whether he influenced the vote — but I DO know he was reviled for his outspokenness.

Many. many times dad imposed his own Christian maturity upon his sons something none of us could appreciate at the time, but in adult retrospect, I now can see the ‘Heavy Guidance‘ of his ‘Take it Like a Man" Christian witness...

Like the time a 4th Grade bully followed for several blocks heckling me with "F - Word" verbs...until I'd had it and shouted back that he must be a certain "F - Word" noun if he wanted to do that to me! (A MOMENT TO DO THE TRANSLATION) This boy. who happened to be our newspaper carrier, then had the gall to ring our doorbell and tell my dad what l'D CALLED HIM What did dad do? He made us EACH apologize and shake hands.

There was no room in Dad's living testimony for playing the victim. Despite MY wanting at that moment for a Papa Bear to rip this bully to shreds, Dad the Peacemaker refused to usurp God's prerogative alone to pass judgment and exact vengeance against oppressors.

Several years later, in another town, one of the boys in our scout troop threw eggs at my back during a summer camp fund-raising work party at a local chicken farm.  Livid, l demanded that dad do something or tell the boy's father. With fire in his eyes, Dad refused, and attempting to build my own sensitivity, he told me - from having been in the boy's home - how the boy was literally horse-whipped by his own father whenever he got in trouble of any kind.

Certainly not an excuse for the boy's behavior, but definitely a lesson to ME about weighing the value of my personal offense against likely contributors to my offender’s behavior.

But by far the biggest life lesson I learned was through sheer observance in 1970. We lived in the parsonage across the street from the Filer, Idaho, United Methodist Church. Brother James was newborn and freshly returned home with Mom from the Twin Falls hospital. The neighbors one door down, were laughing and drinking and having a party -- blasting loud music as they apparently did on a regular basis. On a particular Spring evening, as I watched in my fire truck pajamas from the sidewalk at the edge of the property line, dad went next door, and as clearly as if it were yesterday, I remember the scene:

Dad knocked loudly on the door several times until a large and bristly man opened and stepped chest-to-chest with my dad. Speaking loudly over the thumping music Dad said with bridled courage. "l've asked you before several times. and l kindly ask you again...we've got children and a new baby trying to sleep...would you please tone down your music?"

The man turned red in the face and tensed his muscles offensively. Staring  nose-to-nose, Dad took off his glasses and said boldly. "Go ahead, hit me -- if it would make you feel more like a man!"

The man was flustered, stepped backward and shut his door. The music was suddenly much quieter.

Dad was Meek -- not weak, not a doormat, but that which Chuck Swindoll likened to "a Clydesdale horse: brute strength in complete submission to its master.”

William Barclay paraphrased verse 13 of James 3 well:

"Is there any of you who wishes to be a real sage and a real teacher? Then let him live a life of such beautiful graciousness that he will prove to all that gentleness is enthroned as the controlling power within his heart."

Dad was such a teacher. James continued:

3: i7- 18  The wisdom which comes from above is first pure, then peaceable, considerate. willing to yield, full of mercy and of good fruits, undivided in mind,  without hypocrisy. For the seed which one day produces the reward which righteousness brings can only be sown when personal relationships are right, and by those whose conduct produces such relationships.

Again. Barclay’s commentary elucidates:

The true wisdom is epieikes. Of all Greek words in the New Testament, this word [here translated ”CONSIDERATE] is the most untranslatable.  Aristotle defined it as that “which is just beyond the written law" and as “justice and better than justice" and as that "which steps in to correct things when the law itself becomes unjust."

The man who is epieikes is the man who knows when it is actually wrong to apply the strict letter of the law. He knows how to forgive when strict justice gives him a perfect right to condemn.

He knows how to make allowances, when not to stand upon his rights, how to temper justice with mercy, always remembers that there are greater things in the world than rules and regulations. It is impossible to find an English word to translate this quality [but as a complex definition such as] the ability to extend to others the kindly consideration we would wish to receive ourselves.

Dad was a man of the Golden Rule.

These were the last words Dad read before his final night of sleep -- a sleep that was deep and restful -- having read a passage and commentary that validated Elam Anderson's entire life witness at home, in the community, and from the pulpits that rarely appreciated what an amazing Under-Shepherd they had been assigned!

Dad was also a man WITHOUT HYPOCRISY. Living what he preached, and preaching to many who treated Church as a Kiwanis Club — he would oft be rejected due to his refusal (or inability) to play the games of positioning and placation among power brokers, congregational and denominational.

And that is a trait that I am VERY proud to have inherited, even if only to a lesser degree of consistency than that lived out by my father.

Another trait I am thankful to my father for instilling in me is the mandate in both Old Testament and New for ministry to the widow, orphan and alien, another Christ-honoring maxim that has always been a thorn in the country-club Christian‘s side wherever congregants are insulated from faith-based persecution themselves.

In a sermon originally written as a final paper for a 1964 Pastoral Psychology course at Andover-Newton in Massachusetts, dad posed difficult questions that he oft repeated from pulpits in later congregations. Preaching from Mark 1:21-27, where Jesus is teaching in the Synagogue and exorcises the demons from a man who bursts in and says "We know who you are: the Holy One of God. What do you want with us?"

(BY THE WAY, DAD GOT AN "A" ON THIS PAPER!)

Here's what he wrote:

What would happen next Sunday if a demented man were to come in and seek to interrupt the morning church worship? Would the ushers be alert to steer him out into a quiet room while some assistant slipped away to telephone the police, and thus neatly, smoothly dispose of the interruption? This would be the procedure of any of a thousand well-organized churches.

...But there is no real cause for panic: The chance of anyone getting disturbed during one of our services, or of any disturbed person finding his way inside, is extremely slight.

However, there is another kind of church...where such an interruption by a mentally ill person is not at all uncommon, but where he or she would be given very different attention. The sermon, the special music, the offering, even the scripture reading, would be cast aside with unspoken common consent.

The whole church -- not just the preacher -- would gather about that poor creature and in the spirit of Jesus, talk, pray and literally raise hell with that poor soul. And if the devil within did not give up as easily as it apparently did for Jesus, the congregation would set up a prayer vigil until the demon yelled uncle.

What kind of church do you belong to? To which kind do I?                              
And in which kind would Jesus feel most at home?

DAD WAS NOT A SENTIMENTAL HUMANlST — he was not a "social worker in robes."  He was a Preacher of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a believer in the Son of the Loving Father and Sacrificial Savior of the World.

Among Dad's sermons I found an undated funeral meditation on the 23rd Psalm, which concludes,  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all he days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  He wrote this:

One of the great mysteries of the Bible is the steadfast faith of the generations of sons and daughters of Abraham who . . . could aspire to moral virtue and selfless living, often with great personal sacrifice, yet without the promise of an eternal life in heaven. But David, perhaps looking far down the years to that Savior who would be called "Son of David,” reached out in a faith far above those about him when he said, "I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever." What a faith! What a promise it gives to us as we turn again to life, that each of us may say “I too, as I trust in the Lord as my Shepherd,  I shall dwell in His house, forever.”

Dad is now IN THAT HOUSE.  And without doubt, I believe this: a thousand times more than Elam Jonathan Anderson wanted his five sons to attain Eagle Scout, he wanted — and is perhaps interceding this very moment — to see ALL of his Loved Ones to one day join him in that House with Many Rooms which Jesus is preparing for those who place their Trust in Him.

l have no words left to say.  I have only a finger to point towards Dad's life witness — his day-by-day example— but also the Gospel he preached, of Salvation through Jesus Christ, which was the reason behind the Life he lived.

From a Goodbye article he wrote in the Philomath UMC newsletter, I will close with this:

Without God, "Hello" and "Goodbye" are hollow, vanishing echoes in an endless night. But with Him and His Peace- — "shalom" — the  world becomes an adventure in relationships . . . As [ the hymn writer] puts it, "Because He Lives, I can face tomorrow..."

and I can face all of the "hellos" and "goodbyes" life demands of me.

Goodbye, Daddy. I will see you on the Morrow.


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