My Friend Edgar Walton

Early this week, my friend Edgar Walton died. He was 94. This is the eulogy I shared at his funeral, edited for length.

In the middle of Genesis, we read about the end of the patriarch Abraham. Then Abraham breathed his last and died at a good old age, an old man and full of years; and he was gathered to his people.

The end of Genesis says this about the death of Jacob: When Jacob had finished giving instructions to his sons, he drew his feet up into the bed, breathed his last and was gathered to his people. Joseph threw himself upon his father and wept over him and kissed him. And the Egyptians mourned for him seventy days.

King David, the Bible says, died at a good old age, having enjoyed long life, wealth and honor. After the death of Asa, King of Judah, it was said that Asa’s heart was fully committed to the Lord all his life. Of King Jehoshaphat it was written he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord. The power and success of King Jotham was attributed to the fact that he walked steadfastly before the Lord his God.

Had he known that’s how I was going to begin his funeral, my friend Edgar Walton would have objected. His humility precluded any comparisons to Biblical patriarchs or kings. But if you mean to start with the Bible and you are looking for a fitting eulogy for a man like Edgar, the kings and patriarchs are pretty much where you have to go.

In his book, The Road To Character, David Brooks writes about the resume virtues – the aptitudes, abilities and skills that lend themselves to professional success. The things you list on your resume. Edgar certainly possessed those. But he possessed to an even greater degree what Brooks calls the eulogy virtues – the qualities, the values that shape not what a person achieves but who a person is. Virtues like love, joy, peace, patience and kindness; goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Those are the things they talk about at your funeral. Those are the qualities that I think of when I remember Edgar Walton.

When the Great Depression threw the world into the longest, deepest economic downturn in history, Edgar was seven years old. He knew what it was to go to bed hungry, to hear the wolf snarling at the door. He mentioned it to me only once, and even then he was stingy with the details, but his childhood and teen years were not gentle. Some people with that kind of family history become bitter – it made Edgar better. The struggle and chaos he grew up through made him compassionate and generous.

Along with 16 million other Americans, he served during World War II, mostly in the Northern African and Southern European theaters. He was on a ship in the Pacific headed for another part of the war when Japan surrendered. If you know a World War II vet, be sure to thank them. Soon. There are less than a million still living.

My friendship with Edgar was nourished through our work together at the Campus Church where I preached and he served as an elder. Every couple of weeks he’d come by the church office and take me to lunch – always to the Marriott because he liked the buffet. And he always paid, though when his eyes began to fail, he asked me to sign his credit card receipts. Which was about when I suggested I should come by and pick him up. My lunches with Edgar were some of the best leadership training I’ve ever had.

When Campus first considered adding a worship team and permitting solos, he was firmly but politely opposed. After many weeks of study and prayer, over lunch one day, he asked, “Do you really think this praise team thing will be good for the church?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I do.”

He stared at his plate for a moment, then said: “Well, I don’t like it. But if it’s good for the church, we should do it. Besides, I’m retiring from the eldership soon and I don’t want them saying that they had to wait for old Walton to step down.”

I learned that a good leader puts what is best for the people he leads ahead of his own personal preferences. That getting it right is more important than getting your way.

Some years later, Edgar called the church office. When he heard the voice on the other end, he asked, “Are you the young lady who sang that solo in church yesterday?” (As his eyesight failed, he developed an uncanny ability to identify people by their voices.)

Hesitantly, she confirmed that she was.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I think that blessed the whole church,” he said.

Leaders change and grow and they do it with grace.

Though he was from a much less expressive generation, he was easily moved. He came up to me one Sunday after we’d had a communion focused service. No sermon, just scriptures and songs about the cross. He had tears in his eyes. And he always cried when someone was baptized. That was a sacred moment to Edgar.

There is a marvelous passage in 2 Corinthians 3:17 – 18. Now the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

Reflecting on, contemplating, thinking about the Lord was a daily discipline for Edgar. And, as the passage promises, he became more and more like his Savior with each passing day. Kinder. Gentler. More generous. Peaceful. Prayerful. More humble. What a blessing it would be if we all followed Edgar’s lead.

Last Monday, Edgar breathed his last and died at a good old age, an old man and full of years; and he was gathered to his people — his beloved Kitty. His six sisters. Old friends like H.A., Jesse, Hollis and Lucille, J.T. and Madeline, Hank and Jo, L.A. and Emma Lene, Judy and many others. Minutes later, something unusual happened. A rainbow appeared in the evening sky. Maybe it was nothing more than a few late-arriving rays of sunshine rushing to reach the earth, reflecting off the last few drops of water being wrung from a nearly spent cloud. That’s probably all it was. But I like to think it was a sneak peek at the celebration that welcomed Edgar home. A celebration that awaits everyone who puts his or her faith not in themselves, not even in our own eulogy virtues, but in the same Jesus Edgar loved and followed.