Today, in Niagara Falls, Canada Friends and Colleagues will join Pastor Ken Kennedy to celebrate his 80th Birthday. I wish I could be there.
Ken was one of the Pastors in the Community of Churches among which I grew up. I also saw him as the sort of Preacher and Leader I’d like to be. He spoke well. His demeanor was unaffected. He was charismatic but not pushy. It was easy for him to laugh. And he took us kids seriously. Despite the long list of achievements he could boast of he chose to live the moments with consistent integrity, humbly. Though our paths meandered through different regions and I rarely talked with him personally Ken influenced my life significantly. He was among the Leaders who placed their hands on me and commissioned me when I was ordained. Recently, thanks to the Internet, we’ve had the opportunity to communicate more frequently. I especially enjoyed a conversation we had during a Conference in Toronto, Canada in May. Ken is still the inspiring man I remember. And I’m thrilled to see his passion hasn’t waned.
One of my memories of Ken illustrates how genuine and free he really is.
We were at Family Camp. This Summer Camp was a convergence of Christ-followers from all over Western Ontario in Canada. It was, for these Churches, the highlight of the year. People enjoyed being together and looked forward to the challenging preaching, inspiring music, and, particularly the time after each evening Meeting when people were dramatically touched by the Spirit of God. This was a Celebration! And joy filled the Meeting Place we called “the Tabernacle.”
On this particular night Ken was the MC for the “Altar Service.” People who’d been renewed by God’s spirit would tell their story, or, as we would say, “give their testimony.” This night many people had come and knelt at the “altar” – wood benches set end –to-end across the front of the Tabernacle on a lower level wood platform. A woman who’d “dropped in” that night from the neighborhood near the campground was moved by the goings on and came to turn her life over to Jesus. As people were coming to the front after they’d prayed to “give their testimony,” she came and stood in the line waiting to come to the mic and tell her “story.” Ken would guide each speaker and even, at times, interact with them as they spoke. When this woman’s opportunity came she stepped to the mic. She was quite animated; almost giddy over the emotional experience of “letting go and letting God” intervene in her troubled life. She was full of joy. She looked at Ken and asked, “May I tell a funny story?” Ken was noticeably hesitant. He held his mic by his side for a moment, not responding. She went on. “It’s on the Scotch!” It was apparent that this was not helpful to Ken who was trying to decide what to do with such an unusual turn of events. Of course the Scotch, at least in those days, were known for their exceptional frugality. Some would even say they were “tight with their money.” But they could also be the swashbuckling type; fast living bar hounds and the like. Where was this woman going? Ken took a “leap of faith,” and nodded his approval. This is what she said.
“A Scotchman and his Wife were out for a Sunday afternoon drive. An hour or so into the drive the Wife turned to her Husband and told him she had to go to the bathroom. He was a little perturbed but began looking for a Service Station that might have a “loo.” Finding one that appeared to have facilities that would be clean he pulled in. His Wife walked into the Office. Moments later she returned to the car obviously troubled. “It’s a ‘pay toilet,’” she said. “I’ll need a dime.” “Oh, my Dear!” her Husband said. “Can you wait a bit?” “Let’s drive on a piece! I hate to spend the money if we don’t have to.” “Well, don’t drive long!” She urged. They drove a while and came on another Station. Again she walked in. Once more she returned troubled; but now more so. And, again, her Husband insisted on looking for “free relief.” She did not like it but agreed. They went on and before long found another Service Station. As you might guess she found that this Station, too, required payment for use of their facilities. But now there’d be no negation. She returned to the car. “Give me a dime!” she demanded. “But Dear!” “No but Dear! Give me a dime!” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the dime. He handed it to her. As she reached for it he pulled it back. With that he said, imploringly, “Honey! Before you put this in the slot, PLEASE! be sure you don’t just have ‘gas!’”
An awkward silence fell over the Tabernacle. All eyes were on Ken. What would he do? Would he laugh? Would he reprimand what some would consider inappropriate? Would he turn to the next person in line and invite them to take their turn? No … he dropped his hands to his side bent forward a bit and smiled broadly, chuckling simultaneously. With that the crowd burst into laughter and a newborn Child of the King went laughing to her seat knowing she was welcome!
From that day on I understood how crucial it is to not “take ourselves too seriously!”
Ken, thanks! You’ve been an invaluable “Role Model,” and I love you for it.
Jim Denison
