Last year I received a phone call from Jimmie.
Through tears he told me that our friend Cowboy had passed.
I remember sitting later in Jimmie’s lawn and our friend Ben came by and we all kind of stared at nothing together.
I met Cowboy for the first time when he was speaking at a church that boasted it had been around since the 1800’s. His giant hand shook mine, and his gruff yet loving southern accent made me feel instantly welcome. He took us out for ice cream after, and we sat and chatted and joked and laughed. He shared about the discipleship schools he was running in Alabama and his work in Haiti.
Whenever we ran a RED School we would have Cowboy come and teach on the Father Heart of God. He always called it “The Father’s Heart of God.” Which I thought was a strange way to say it, but he taught it like no other.
His teaching was good, but it wasn’t his teaching. It was his authenticity, the fact that he actually carried a Father’s heart.
I remember one time he stopped the class and his teaching, asked permission from Jimmie and the rest of the class to focus in on one person. This large man, knelt down in front of them, with a plastic table separating them, grabbed their hands, made eye contact, and in a hushed tone ministered the love of the Father to this person.
That’s what made his teaching impactful. It wasn’t just teaching, it was action. And it wasn’t just action when it was convenient or someone was looking, it was action that flowed from knowing how far out of His way the Father went for Cowboy, that caused Cowboy to stop– and notice– and act.
We miss you man. I pray that everyone you know and impacted, is spurred forward to being intentional in being interrupted, to love the one God has placed in their paths.