The voice of Calvary called his name
and John knew he was loved
in spite of the way his troubled life began.
His mom died when he was just seven months old.
Soon after, his father fled the scene
abandoning the boy.

Raised by his grandmother
and a community of sharecroppers,
John’s dreams for a promising future
grew on a Mississippi plantation.
But they were dashed at sixteen
when his brother Clyde
(a decorated war veteran)
was killed by a white cop.

Still the voice of Calvary kept calling his name.
Moving west, he sought a new start.
But he found the same old prejudices
he’d known in the south.

Yet that voice would not be silenced
as he married and became a father
although it was hard to hear during the Korean conflict.
In his young son Spencer’s invitation to Sunday School,
John began to hear the voice more clearly.

And through two radio preachers
by the name of MacArthur and McGee
(with whom John became acquainted),
the voice of Calvary was amplified.

The voice called John and his family
to return to Mississippi to mend and haul.
And in Mendenhall
he mended frayed relations between whites and blacks
and hauled away the debris of decades of mistrust.

In the midst of it all,
John not only continued to hear the voice
but he also found his voice.
His was a prophetic voice that spoke about
love and mercy,
justice and equality,
compassion and courage,
healing and hope
reconciliation and restoration.

And though John’s voice has been silenced,
the voice of Calvary continues to be heard
in the legacy he leaves.

Peace to his memory!