NOTE OF APPRECIATION: I participated today in a memorial service for a former parishioner. Ministerial ethics and protocol prohibit pastors from returning to congregations they once served to carry out pastoral responsibilities, except and unless they are invited to do so with and at the direction of the current pastor. Thus, having received a call from Rev. Andrew Tennant, current pastor of Valley Chapel UMC, inviting me to join him in officiating at this service, I accepted the invitation. I express deep appreciation to Andrew for his genuine hospitality and for the opportunity to recall significant memories of an earlier time. Andrew's warmth and openness made for a truly good celebration of life.
Clyde Samuel Jenkins
Andrew
read for us a moment ago the very familiar 23rd Psalm, recalling the
Psalmist’s affirmation that God is our Shepherd. This Psalm, obviously derived from a
shepherd’s experience, is rather curious.
When we remember how for most of Israel’s history shepherds were seen as
peons, as insignificant nobodies at best and as unsavory, disgusting characters
to be scorned at worst, it’s difficult
to understand how any shepherd could have felt as important and of value to God
as the one who wrote this Psalm. Yet,
the affirmations in his Psalm attest to that fact: “I shall not want,” “I will
fear no evil,” “He restoreth my soul,” “My cup runneth over,” “Goodness and
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”
Incredibly, coming from a shepherd, of all people, this Psalm radiates a
kind of inner confidence and poise.
Further
reflection leads us to realize that a lowly shepherd (if he is a good shepherd,
faithful in his work) cares for and protects the sheep. So then, what does a sheep have to do to
deserve such careful attention by the shepherd?
Nothing! All a sheep has to do to gain this kind of protective
status with the shepherd is to be itself.
Be a sheep!
Does
it follow then that the only prerequisite we as human beings have for being of
immeasurable importance to God is to be ourselves, to be just as we are, the
persons we were created to be?
Certainly Clyde Jenkins was the person he was
meant to be. He lived with zest and
enjoyed fully his life as a husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather,
uncle, as a neighbor, an engineer, a sports enthusiast, an active member of the
church and a few social organizations.
He had a ball with
his family. He especially enjoyed those
times in the summer when family members would show up to swim in the pool out
back. Often when I would be leaving the
office at the church, the sounds of laughter and water splashing and sometimes
shrieking delight would spill over the fence on to the parking lot between the
Jenkins’ home and the church. Occasionally
there were also aromas of hamburgers and hotdogs cooking on the poolside grill. It took not a little restraint to keep from
crashing those backyard parties. As the
pictures and video clips spread around this space make abundantly clear, Clyde adored
his life with his wife, Mary Lou, and his family. He derived much delight with all of you whom
he knew as family. He was the family man
he was meant to be.
Clyde was also
devoted in his commitments outside the home.
Often it seemed as if he liked doing things that helped. Certainly that was true in his faithfulness
to the church. How invaluable it was to
have Clyde living next door. He was, in
effect, for many years the congregation’s maintenance engineer. Whenever the flood lamps around the steeple
burned out, it wouldn’t take long for Clyde to worm his way up into that tiny
cupola and dangle out of its four openings to change the bulbs. Similarly, whenever a problem arose on a
Saturday night with one of the furnaces, or some part of the electrical system,
a simple call next door to summon Clyde would, most of the time, resolve the
problem. What was kind of astounding was
that he always seemed to have what was needed to do the repairs immediately
available in that tiny garage of his.
Whether some kind of part for a motor, a specialized electrical circuit,
or a particular fixture, a short trip across the parking lot to his garage
usually provided just what was needed. That
garage was a veritable warehouse. And
much of its supply, along with Clyde’s expertise, benefitted the Valley Chapel
building at no cost to the congregation.
No doubt, his neighbors and his other social connections experienced the
same quality of helpfulness. A couple of
times he bailed me out. You ever leave
the house slamming and locking the door behind you only to discover when you
got to the car your keys were still in the house? Thank goodness, Clyde, as the unofficial
locksmith of the church, had all the keys.
A simple walk to the neighbor’s to make a phone call, and in a few
minutes there Clyde would be, having driven down Pleasant Valley Road and Lillie
Street to unlock the parsonage for a certain forgetful parson. Clyde was the helpful man he was meant to be.
He was also a man
who stood his ground. Just as a good
shepherd in Israel faced times when, with nothing but his shepherd’s crook, he
had to defend the sheep against predators, there were times when Clyde would
take a similar stance. Whether those he
perceived as predators were that or not, there was never any question as to
Clyde’s assessment of the situation. You
always knew where Clyde stood, and that really turned out to be very helpful in
most instances. It’s a lot easier to
deal with what you can see; next to impossible to deal with what you cannot
see. There were a couple of times when
Clyde and I had different understandings of something that was going on, but we
managed to be able to talk about it, and while we may not have reached
agreement, we at least did achieve greater understanding of one another. And the reality each and every time there was
some confusion was that Clyde was expressing his care for the commitments of
his life, and he was being the best person he knew how to be. What more can be asked of any human being?
Certainly, as the
shepherd often faced valleys of the shadow of death, Clyde too had his share of
troubling trials. A number of years ago
he faced major surgery involving the resection of a lung due to cancer. Fortunately, he dodged that bullet and before
long had his own little resurrection as he returned to more chances to square
dance with Mary Lou, more family swim parties, more golf outings, and more
church services. Another awful turn in
the road came when Clyde’s son, Mark, having struggled for years with
unrelenting difficulties, died at a much-too-early age. What a terrible descent into the valley of
shadows that must have been.
Yet, Clyde
continued to do the things that help, the practical things that contributed to
eliminating the shadows and restoring light in a valley called “Pleasant.” The few times I have seen Clyde since leaving
Valley Chapel have been in Crackerbarrel or Walmart or at one of the United
Methodist Men’s baked steak dinners.
Every time, Clyde would greet me with that winsome smile that he wore
most of the time. No doubt, the last few
years for Clyde have been unbearable and there has been much to be sad about, but
now that he has made his final journey through the valley of the shadow of
death, perhaps he is no longer in want, and once again surrounded by lush green
pastures and streams of flowing water, and once again wearing that irresistible
smile.
PRAYER
Gracious
God of love, we praise you for the goodness we have witnessed in the life of
Clyde Samuel Jenkins. The years slip
through our minds like minutes when we think of him, and remembering the days
we have had with him, we thank you for the providence that let us call him husband,
father, grandfather, great-grandfather, uncle, neighbor and friend. For his faithfulness in relationships and his
helpful character, for his steadfastness in the surging flood of daily duties
and his unswerving perseverance in the face of overwhelming obstacles, for the
delight he derived from his family and the other commitments of his life, that
there were times when members of his family and his friends could share his
burdens or smooth his road or ease his pain, these thoughts and memories are
precious to us, O God, and we speak our gratitude for all that we have shared
with our brother in Christ, Clyde.
Help
us, O God, to know that Clyde is safe in the loving embrace of your everlasting
arms, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, and that he is at
peace. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who taught his followers the prayer we
now say together:
THE PRAYER OF OUR SAVIOR
