I was taught by an Elder wiser

A good, straight-forward lyric from friend (more like a sister, really) Kate Campbell helps frame for me a way to process a bit of difficult news of the day.

In her haunting ballad “Look Away,” a beautiful yet mournful take on processing very hard realities like the history and ghosts of our own Southern region, Kate pens these words: “I was taught by elders wiser, love your neighbor, love your God.”

It’s one of mine and my brothers’ favorite lines ever in song. Such a simple truth, familiar to me and the way we were raised. Taught to love our neighbors and to love our God.

Well, late today the line came blazing back to my heart and mind, with a bit of a double entendre to be sure, when word came of the passing of a hero of mine this past Friday, Nov. 3.

Lloyd Elder was president of the Baptist Sunday School Board in Nashville where my dad worked in his “second career.” But Dr. Elder was so much more than CEO of the world’s largest religious publishing house. He was a pastor, a mentor, a father, a churchman, a husband, a laugher, a confidant, and he was my friend.

All day I’ve thought of Kate’s lyric and the fact that I truly was “taught — by an ‘Elder’ wiser.”

And I’m aware as I think back across the years that the teaching that Lloyd proferred to me consumed nearly 40 years of my life, beginning way back in 1984.

“He always treated me with great respect and as if my opinions and thoughts had validity and power.”

Without telling every story I know or trying to recant each interaction with him, I am immediately reminded of a handful of very meaningful experiences and how he always treated me with great respect and as if my opinions and thoughts had validity and power.

This may have been his greatest gift to many whom he mentored and with whom he worked. His whole essence seemed to confirm in “the other” their intrinsic sense of value, of worth.

I remember two particular occasions as a teenager when Elder was gracious and kind to me. And I remember the gleaming smile he had in conveying to me that I mattered.

In the summer of 1984, I traveled to Glorieta, N.M., with best friend Brad Turner and his family for a couple of weeks of “Baptist!” We made our way out to the “Land of Enchantment” slowly, with Daddy, Bob and me singing dang near the entire lexicon of Western cowboy songs as we rode. I mean ALL of them. And upon arriving on campus at Glorieta, Brad and I popped out of the car, caught a glimpse of the Sunday School Board’s newly minted chief executive and on the count of three shouted out “Hey, Uncle Lloyd!!”

Little did we know he was hosting and walking with a pride of board trustees as we yelled. But instead of getting angry at us, he came over, smiled that magic smile of his and shared his real joy in the imprimatur we had bestowed, and then he continued to tell the story of that day until the last time I ever saw him. What a good way he made us feel, which is why he really was something of an uncle in our eyes, I think.

A year later, in the summer of 1985, tensions in the Southern Baptist Convention were running at an all-time high. The SBC was set to meet in Dallas and some 45,000 messengers jammed the convention complex that June — the largest crowd ever recorded at an SBC annual meeting.

“Lloyd Elder led the charge at our home church of First Baptist, Nashville, that summer — convincing the powers that be that we needed to elect a youth to attend the convention.”

Well, Lloyd Elder led the charge at our home church of First Baptist, Nashville, that summer — convincing the powers that be that we needed to elect a youth to attend the convention if there was any hope the next generation was to be part of the continued movement. As it happened, the SBC meeting was the same week as our church youth trip to Panama City Beach, but so important was it deemed that a youth be one of our church’s 10 messengers to the convention, that money was committed to get a youth to Dallas and then to fly them to camp to meet the rest of the youth group for the remainder of camp.

As fate would have it, I was the youth so designated. So there we went (and some of these names may be lost to time on many, unless you were a die-hard Baptist geek, but suffice to say it’s a roll-call of Baptist leaders of the day) — messengers from Nashville’s First Baptist to the 1985 Southern Baptist Convention included Harold Bennett, Martin Bradley, Lloyd Elder, Norma Baker (Gabhart), Charles Page, H. Franklin Paschall, James L. Sullivan, and Jim Williams.

And me! At 15 years old.

But what I remember, to a person — and led by Elder first among them — is how I was made a part of every conversation leading up to the meeting, was included in the information shared concerning resolutions and actions to be proposed, that I was welcomed to be by their sides throughout the week in Dallas whatever they were doing, the first-rate education I got on Baptist polity by ones who certainly knew it, and the way they waited to report back to the church and included me in that report once the youth returned from camp.

I’ll never forget the experience and how very respectfully my opinions were treated. That is due in large measure to Lloyd Elder.

I remember in my 20s when he was summarily retired as president of the Sunday School Board. I remember the grace with which he handled that and talking with him in depth about his concern for his wife, Sue, during those days, particularly given recent heart surgery she had endured. I remember Brother Will Campbell being there the day they let Elder go and how very meaningful that simple gesture was to him.

In my 30s, I worked closely with my sweet friend Elizabeth Wells, special collections librarian at Samford University for four decades, to secure Elder’s papers as part of the permanent collection at Samford. The process took a couple of years to complete and only finally happened due to Liz’s tenacity and care, but I was proud to get to keep cultivating my friend and assuring him of the safe and permanent way his papers would be handled in perpetuity.

In my 40s, I had two wonderful experiences that stand out with Elder, both of which bring a smile when I remember.

The first was in 1999, sitting with Lloyd and Sue, best friend Mart Gray, Hugh Tobias and several others at the retirement dinner for James M. Dunn as executive director of the Baptist Joint Committee. I’ll never forget that night, and I’ll always remember the guffaw and brilliant smile of Lloyd Elder when President Bill Clinton entered the room as dinner commenced and wryly stated, “James, if anything further was needed to confirm your apostate status among the Baptists, my presence here this evening ought to do it!”

I thought I was gonna have to pick Lloyd Elder up off the floor. What a belly laugh he let loose. True joy!

And then, in 2014 and 2015, having Elder invite me and Hope Manifest to work with him to secure funding for the Bivocational and Small Church Leadership Network he was chairing was just the icing on the cake.

We made many miles and many calls together over those two years, with the best time being a week-long traversing of Texas on an old-fashioned road trip.

“He let me get to know him, and we shared in such a personal way.”

He let me get to know him, and we shared in such a personal way. We talked church and family and friends. He shared about the loss of his son and the very hard reality on the anniversary of his death in August each year. I shared with him about my marriage that was ending, and he could not have been a more encouraging and non-judgmental listener, adviser, pastor and friend.

We talked hopes and dreams for kids and grandkids, and he wound up making a generous call to his friend Bill Troutt to extol to him why my son needed to be pursued vigorously by Rhodes College. Graham matriculated there a year later, in 2016.

But what I remember most is the simple joy he took in introducing me to a Dairy Queen Blizzard — indeed, it felt like to every Dairy Queen Blizzard — at each DQ we passed that week. And I remember well that he liked his with chocolate syrup and roasted pecans. And if we happened to hit one where the pecans were plain and unroasted, he would simply tell the person taking the order, “No, thanks,” and then we would continue on down the line.

Finally, in my 50s — and deep into his 80s — Elder published a wonderful essay on Oct. 29, 2020, just one week before the presidential election that year, encouraging all of us to use our voices and our votes. He made a great plea that we be good and active citizens, exercising our right to shape our land and our leaders.

We emailed back and forth just after his article was published in the Baptist Standard, me thanking him for his continued influence on my life, him urging and nudging me on to use my voice and my influence to change the small corner of the world that was mine. Ever the teacher and mentor was he.

Such wonderful memories. Such a wonderful man. Such a good friend — although generations separated us by time, he always made me feel special. Always made me feel loved and important.

And that was such an incredible gift he gave me for nigh on 40 years.

“I was taught by an Elder wiser, love your neighbor, love your God.”

I’ll always remember, Uncle Lloyd. Always.

And I pray light eternal is yours, evermore.

 

Todd Heifner serves as co-director of Hope Manifest in Birmingham, Ala.

 

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Lloyd Elder, Southern Baptist statesman