THREE WOODEN BOXES

I have often viewed a particular video on YouTube of the funeral of George Beverly Shea, “America’s Gospel Singer,” and Billy Graham’s associate, who lived to the impressive age of 104.

As with any home-going service, the organist made her appearance, and began playing a couple of preliminary hymns meant to set the funereal tone for the audience. After everyone had found their seats, there was a few moment’s pause, and then the rich bass of the good man himself filled the chapel.

Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
There by His love o’ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest.

Hark! ’tis the voice of angels
Borne in a song to me,
Over the fields of glory,
Over the jasper sea.

Accompanied by Fanny’ Crosby’s wonderful hymn, the family, including Shea’s dear wife, Karlene, began to file in, and take their seats at the front. They had married ten years after the death of Shea’s first wife. Shea had turned 33 the year Karlene made her entrance into the world.

Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe from corroding care,
Safe from the world’s temptations;
Sin cannot harm me there.

Free from the blight of sorrow,
Free from my doubts and fears;
Only a few more trials,
Only a few more tears!

The dear man often shared his testimony with anyone who would listen.

“While I met the Lord at 5 or 6, there came a time when I needed to rededicate my life to Jesus. When I was 18, my dad was pastoring a church in Ottawa, and I was feeling not too spiritual. The church was having a ‘special effort,’ as they called it, for a week. I remember that on Friday night Dad came down from the pulpit and tenderly placed his hand on my shoulder. He whispered, ‘I think tonight might be the night, son, when you come back to the Lord.’ Whatever Dad did or said, I listened to him and respected him. And, yes, that was the night!”

Pt. 2

The music continued, and the strains of “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” as sung by George Beverly Shea, continued to fill the air.

Jesus, my heart’s dear Refuge,
Jesus has died for me;
Firm on the Rock of Ages
Ever my trust shall be.

Here let me wait with patience,
Wait till the night is o’er;
Wait till I see the morning
Break on the golden shore.

Now various notables and friends walked through a side door, including the Commandant of the Canadian Mounted Police, (for the great Gospel singer had been born in Canada); proceeded by the casket. And it struck me that the container in which the mortal remains of this spiritual giant would reside, ‘til Jesus came, was fashioned of pinewood; lovingly created by the inmates of Angola State Prison in Louisiana.

I have been in the presence of, (and written about) many of this world’s so-called “notables,” having either attended their services, or presentations, or briefly spoken with them; people such as, Kathryn Kuhlman, Jimmy Swaggart, Ruth Graham (the daughter), Damaris Carbaugh, Cornelia Wallace, Dale Evans Rogers, and Dr. James Dobson. Why, I was even pen pals with Katherine MacGregor, (Mrs. Oleson of “Little House on the Prairie”). However, among all of the foregoing, I think I was the most impressed with this humble centenarian, George Beverly Shea. I heard him sing at a local church approximately a quarter century before he went on to his reward.

Cliff Barrows, Billy Graham’s music director, occupied the stage, and now the younger Rev. Graham wheeled in his father, a man who hardly needed any introduction, and seated him left front.

Afterward

As it fell together, George and Cliff and Billy lived to be 104, 93 and 99, respectively, and in due time, and in this order passed on to meet the One whom they loved, and served throughout the vast majority of their lives.

And for all their notoriety, and nobility on this good earth, each in his turn was placed in a matching wooden box. And while I have never heard anyone allude to it, I think “The Three Amigos” must have agreed among themselves while they still had health, and strength, and time to make such a decision.

Such precious, gentle, decent, impactful men who left a rich legacy, and who each, in turn, was interred in a simple wooden box, a fitting memorial to their inherent goodness, emblematic of the humble spirit which resided in each of them, and  characteristic of the Savior whom they served so well, and so long.


Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o'ershaded,

Sweetly my soul doth rest.


By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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