Pastor Jack Morris—faithful unto death

Yesterday we bid farewell to a dear brother and elder, Pastor Jack Morris of the Central States Conference. Seldom have I seen anyone walk through the valley of the shadow of death with such courage as he did.

Late one night a year or so ago at Houston International Airport, I was transferring planes when I noticed a familiar hulking figure in a baseball cap, standing in line to board a delayed flight. Jack? I detoured over for a closer look, and sure enough. Pressing through the crowd, I greeted him. His face lit up like it always did when he saw me—and any other brother or sister in Christ. I asked him the question that all of us always did, about how he was doing. He responded with his usual expression of faith and cheer. But I could see fatigue in his eyes, perhaps pain as well. I remember worrying how he was going to squeeze his weary frame into a crowded plane for the long ride home.

Yes, that long ride home. Jack never complained about his cancer. A lesser man might have mindlessly expected his own preferred outcome, like old King Hezekiah. Instead, in living faith Pastor Morris committed his body and spirit to his Creator and Redeemer, whether for life or death.

A man of lesser devotion would have become bitter about the sickness that was unto death, despite our ceaseless hopes and prayers. But not this 21st century Job.

Jack’s experience in bitterness resistance went back at least four decades to his teenage years. In 1967 he enrolled at a Seventh-day Adventist college that was, at the time, racially prejudiced. Jack had been the first African-American student of what is now Southwestern Adventist University. His presence rocked the Texas campus—fellow dorm residents welcomed him by exploding homemade, low-grade bombs, seeking to frighten him into leaving. Local rowdies, afflicted with the rabies of racism, even burned flags on the front lawn.

Their efforts were wasted. Jack was never one to run from a place where God put him. Although those who hated Jack could disturb the peace on campus, they could not ruin the peace he had in his heart—not only peace with God but peace toward a church that was at best insensitive and at worst, cruel. He committed his life to selflessly serving His Lord within that denomination, and he did so until death did us part.

I was shocked to learn, just yesterday at the tribute service for Elder Morris, that he had suffered such racism. I wasn’t surprised at denominational racism, having researched it in some depth. But often church members, even dedicated leaders, who suffer as Jack did never seem to quite get over the pain. This is understandable, of course, even to be expected. So I didn’t expect that someone who embraced me as easily and entirely as Jack did had suffered so much from white people, since that is who I am in the flesh. More than I marvel at the faith of Elder Morris in the face of physical death, I stand amazed at the level of spiritual healing he had received to be able to love me as he did.

May I be candid, after the manner of our dear friend Jack?

It’s one thing to enjoy fellowship with “the brothers,” but it’s something else to accept someone of a painful race as a brother in Christ, fully and freely.

Pastor Morris belonged to a growing number of post-partisan leaders—black, white, Latino, Native and Asian—who are proud in the Lord of their own ethnicity while equally celebrating everyone else’s. They know that God created all humanity of one blood in Eden, and then redeemed us in one blood at Calvary. They understand that our ultimate identity is not in the color of our skin but in the content of our character—as represented for us at God’s throne of grace by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Of such is the kingdom of God on earth: His church, the global and unified body of Christ. Against such the gates of hell will not prevail.

Back to our dear brother. Like Joseph and Daniel, even as a teenager Jack not only survived but thrived in enemy territory. White fellow students who tormented Jack meant it unto him for evil, but he believed that God intended it all to work together for good. And so he burst open the old wineskin of racism and prejudice with his Spirit-filled love and charm. And he didn’t do this while cowering in a corner of the campus. In the audacity of courage and the authority of God-given equality, Jack accepted a public profile as teacher of a Sabbath school class. His class attracted so many fellow students and staff members that school authorities had to issue appeals not to neglect the other classes on campus.

Four decades later, Jack still had a lot to say—not about himself but about his Lord and Savior Jesus. Several years ago I was preparing a CD on great black preaching for Black History Month. I asked Pastor Morris to select a favorite from among his thousands of messages. He chose “Afterwards,” in which he relates in his own unique style the story of Jesus healing the sick man at the Pool of Bethesda. I found some healing myself for my own heart this morning as I listened to that message.

In a tribute to Elder Jack Arthur Morris, the Mid-America Union is dedicating the first audio message on this new website to his memory. You may access a seven-minute excerpt of “Afterwards” by clicking the “Downloads” tab on this website. I hope you avail yourself of the comfort that our brother has left for us, while being inspired as well by his challenge. Indeed, Jack’s works do follow him, for the glory of God and the continued blessing of his beloved church.

Elder Morris was the recognized scholar among all of us who serve in Mid-America’s conference offices and at Union headquarters. He amassed the largest personal library of any person I’ve known: some say 20,000 books, others 80,000.

I heard about Jack’s legendary library upon coming to the Mid-America Union nearly four years ago. I was eager to meet him, but he greeted me first when seeing my new face in the boardroom. His trademark smile won my instant friendship. When I inquired about his library, he chuckled in a self-deprecating manner, confessing a weakness for used bookstores amid the patience of his wife, Crystal. From that point on, he always indulged my interest in presuming to add to his collection with some new selection I came across. And he always had a recommendation waiting for me as well—not to trumpet his superior knowledge but to indulge my curiosity about what was happening within that great mind of his.

They say that the wisest people are always humble about it—knowing there is always more to learn. Jack’s mind was like that, incessantly curious, yet always in a spirit of learning and humility that continued all his life.

Some would say that Pastor Morris died an awful death. From a human perspective, which focuses on pain and disease, yes. But Jack didn’t live by a human perspective, nor did he die that way. He was faithful until death. And that, in God’s eyes, is a glorious way to die. Pastor Morris died with his boots on, still wielding the sword of God’s word. Just days before his death, he preached another sermon to his congregation in St. Joseph, Missouri (which he pastored along with his administrative responsibilities for Central States Conference).

Several days before Elder Morris died, I flew into Kansas City from Baltimore, coming back from my mother’s funeral. My wife was eager for me to get home so she could hear how that went. But first I needed to stop by the Central States Conference office and leave a gift for Jack. I knew he was on a high-octane health diet, and thought he might appreciate a new organic health bar from Costco. I dropped it off with a note for him to enjoy it.

He never did.

But Jack will soon be enjoying food again, with us in a better land. I look forward to handing him a piece of New Jerusalem fruit under the tree of life, while he tells me about the latest book he’s adding to his celestial library. Much about heaven we can only imagine, but of one thing we may be sure. The cross of Jesus Christ, which was Jack’s science and his song throughout life on earth, will continue to be his fascination and focus for all eternity.

Meanwhile, the rest of us still here must carry on with our memories. But more than that, we surge forth from Jack’s funeral service to pick up his torch carry it forth to the kingdom.

Sleep well, dear brother. The goodness and mercy that followed you all the days of your life will be ours together in the house of the Lord forever.