When I learned of John Killinger’s passing on June 5 at age 91, I found myself reflecting with deep gratitude on a friendship that spanned 35 years and strongly influenced my life and ministry.
Respected as one of America’s most gifted preachers and scholars, Killinger was a pastor, professor, theologian and prolific author whose voice resonated across denominations and generations. But for me, he was more than a public figure. He was a friend, a mentor and a kindred spirit.
Barry Howard
Although I had read Killinger’s books, 365 Simple Gifts from God and Bread for the Wilderness, Wine for the Journey, I did not meet him until our paths first crossed when John and Anne moved to Birmingham. At the suggestion of my pastor friend Buddy Nelson, I invited Killinger to preach at First Baptist Church of Williams near Jacksonville State University, where I was serving. That invitation marked the beginning of a long friendship and a continuing theological conversation. He became a frequent and favorite guest preacher at Williams, and I was continually inspired by the craftsmanship, clarity and pastoral heart of his sermons.
A few years later, I was honored when he invited me to write an endorsement for one of his books and, afterward, he asked me to contribute a few thoughts to another of his books on preaching. In 2018, when I published a book about the Call Stories of various pastors, Killinger submitted a few generous promotional lines for the back cover.
Amanda and I treasured the time we spent with John and Anne, whether hosting them in our country home in North Alabama, enjoying one of our favorite restaurants or visiting their peaceful residence in Warrenton, Va. We stayed in touch across the years with occasional phone calls, regular email correspondence and the exchange of Christmas letters — and wow, could John write a Christmas letter.
A particularly meaningful chapter unfolded during my doctor of ministry work at Columbia Seminary. When Columbia’s preaching professor had to take a leave of absence due to a serious illness, I suggested to the dean that John Killinger might be available to lead our preaching intensive. The dean called him, John agreed to the assignment, and for one semester, he served as my preaching professor as well as my friend and colleague.
“He had a remarkable way of bridging the academic and the pastoral.”
In addition to preaching for us at First Baptist Church of Williams, John preached my installation service at First Baptist Church of Corbin, Ky., in 1996. A few years later, John and Anne visited us in Florida where he preached at First Baptist Church of Pensacola and also led a workshop for local clergy. He had a remarkable way of bridging the academic and the pastoral, and he never lost his love for the church or for pastors, although he did become increasingly frustrated with church bureaucracy and denominational politics.
I frequently looked to John for counsel and guidance. At a pivotal moment in my life, as I struggled with “analysis paralysis” about a major decision, he offered some simple but life-changing advice: “Make the best decision you can, and then live into it and make it the right decision.”
I’ve not only tried to apply that guidance to my life but also have shared it with others.
One of Killinger’s most memorable sermons was titled “Hearing the Elephant and Seeing the Owl.” John built the sermon on the foundation of Job 40-42 and illustrated it with stories from James Michener’s Centennial and Margaret Craven’s I Heard the Owl Call My Name. The message captured so much of what John stood for. —wonder, wisdom, hope and a reverent embrace of mystery.
In Craven’s book, the bishop sends Mark, the central character, to serve in a remote village in British Columbia. One of their legends is that when you hear an owl call your name from the top of the pine trees, you are going to die.
I find it ironic that two of my esteemed mentors died the same day: Walter Brueggemann and John Killinger. As one of my friends said upon hearing this news, “The greats are leaving us.”
Yet, someday, each of us will hear the owl call our name.
Killinger concluded his notable sermon about the elephant and the owl with these words:
There is a big difference between being resigned to death and accepting it. Resignation means bowing to the inevitable. Acceptance involves claiming life, loving it, celebrating it. That’s what faith in God is all about. It means, when you see the elephant and hear the owl, you don’t moan and cry and recoil from life. You don’t complain about the way things are, that you got a rotten deal. On the contrary, you look at God the way Job did, and you say, “I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees thee; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” In other words, “I worship thee.”
Last week, John Killinger heard the night bird speak. Throughout his life and ministry, he taught us that preaching is art, pastoring is presence and faith is more mystery than certainty. I thank God for John Killinger, and I will always remember the grit, grace, scholarship and creativity with which he shared the good news.
Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in Northeast Alabama.