The Bishop

Phil had left home in the Washington D.C. area in his early teens and traveled around the country from party to party. He knew what it meant to be homeless and that the dumpsters outside of Dunkin’ Donuts always held a good chance for food. He was an alcoholic and, at one point in his life, had been addicted to drugs as well. He worked on riverboats mostly in the Midwest. Just about anywhere you had traveled or were going to visit; Phil had a great story about that place.

At some point, Phil’s life took a drastic turn. He became a follower of Jesus. The drinking and the drugs stopped. He married the love of his life, an equally amazing woman named Dixie. He had three kids who loved their father deeply. He finally settled in a medium sized town in Missouri and eventually became involved in a church I attended. This is where Phil entered my life.

I was working as a youth pastor at the time and Phil came on staff at the church as a janitor. I suppose this is where our friendship really started and began to grow. Phil was as devoted to God as a person could be and as irreverent as anyone I have ever met. He was phenomenally quick-witted and loved any humor involving bodily functions. For a youth Christmas party once, I asked him to be interviewed as Santa’s younger brother, Bear Claus. When asked how Santa got those reindeer to fly, he looked right at me and said “We’re all adults here, aren’t we?”. I yelled that we weren’t because I knew where he was going. He then proceeded to ask a room full of Junior High and High School church kids if the words “threat to castrate” meant anything. I thought one of our leaders was going to have a nervous breakdown on the spot.

Phil could carry on a conversation with a homeless man about the trials of not having a place to live and the next minute, he could be conversing with the president of a bank about the highs and lows of investing. He was a voracious reader. His favorite book was about a snake handling church in Alabama. He loved college basketball and was constantly mystified by his beloved Missouri Tigers. He referred to himself as “The Bishop” because the real power in the church resided in the maintenance department. When he had a personal prayer time, he talked to angels, which was his code for “I fell asleep”.

Aside from all the life and laughter, the most profound thing that Phil brought to those around him was a sense of God’s grace. He was a man who had experienced, and continued to live in, the expansive, unending grace of God. I think it was from this experience that Phil was able to give grace to others. He was so non-judgmental and kind to everyone he met. He was not about the cheap grace that says everyone is ok, but there was a deep sense of gratitude and knowledge that God’s mercies really are new every morning.

My friend, The Bishop, died almost six years ago this spring. He left behind his wife and three kids and innumerable people who loved him. He can still make me laugh out loud when I think of him and now, writing this in a coffee shop, I am fighting tears. I am so grateful that God brought this man into my life to show me in a tangible way what grace looks like. My prayer is that everyone finds someone like the Bishop in their life at some point and that I can be a little like him when I grow up.

Peace.