There will only ever be one Archie. Who would have ever thought all those years ago when he was growing up on a farm in Tennessee that he would one day preach in Liberia, West Africa, be part of a singing group that cut two record albums, or become a student of the Hebrew language? As unlikely as those seemed, at the time, to be a part of his future, they would not be the only incongruous characteristics that attended him.
Archie was an irresistible force. When he set his mind to do something, there was no turning back until the task was completed. If the pieces of whatever puzzling project he was working on did not fit, he would exercise sheer strength until it worked. Most people taking this approach would break or ruin the parts, but he would make it work, leaving others to shake their heads in wonder.
Although he was barely 15 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, he managed to become a veteran of World War II, having served on the U.S.S. Denver, a light cruiser, which was present in Tokyo Bay when MacArthur signed the treaty aboard the Missouri. He moved his young family to Peoria a few years after the war to work for Caterpillar Tractor, from which he retired after 35 years at the young age of 56.
Amazingly, he took up golf. It was amazing because the words golf and impatience do not generally complement one another. There were predictions of his clubs becoming wrapped around trees or taking up residence at the bottom of an offending lake. But his natural athletic ability, combined with sheer willpower, made him capable of shooting in the low 80s. At a best ball tournament near Columbus, Ohio, his blazing putter saved seven strokes, allowing the group to finish 13 under par. Most of those putts were from over 15 feet away; it was as though the ball would not dare to do anything but plink into the cup.
Archie never outgrew his impetuosity; in that respect he was a combination of the apostle Peter and Peter Pan. To think of something was to do it. Or say it. On vacation to a strange state, he and I were on our way to play golf when he picked up a young hitchhiker. After a few moments Archie took his eyes off the road momentarily and turned to the young man in the back seat, demanding to know, “Where do you go to church, young man?” Caught off guard and showing signs of apoplexy, the poor youth stuttered for several seconds before admitting that he did not worship anywhere.
Evangelism is something that Archie took seriously, if not tactfully. It is doubtful that anyone attending his funeral had escaped having a discussion with him. He was not easily persuaded of certain things, but once he was, he was committed to them. Some people are timid about discussing the Scriptures with others. Not Archie. He was confident in the truths he had learned, and he was not embarrassed to tell others. Whether people agreed or disagreed with him was irrelevant; they would hear him out. Such intensity did not spring from boorishness or selfishness, but from a fervent desire for everyone else to love God as he did.
Some people are very complex; some are mysterious; some are subtle and secretive. Archie was easy to figure out. If he spoke to someone about his soul, the reason was that he wanted him to be saved. For that same reason he would rebuke even those he loved. His motivation was the salvation of all whom he met. He believed the Bible is the Word of God (which it is).
God was the central part of Archie’s life. There was never a family get-together that did not break out in a religious discussion. Meals were seasoned with gospel salt. Afterward, the men would adjourn to some comfortable furniture–but not to smoke cigars or repeat ribald stories. Archie would call upon one of the men to read a Scripture. “Now what does that mean?” The ensuing discussion would be nothing, if not interesting.
For several years he preached at various times. He moved to one city and spent four years trying to build up the church there; he even had a radio program for a while. He never liked to admit defeat, but he sadly left that town, giving in to realism. He spoke in a number of other locales within a seventy-mile radius of Peoria, and he always encouraged others to preach, also. When the brethren at Browning (the small town in Illinois with the oldest church in the state) needed help, he lined up men to speak every week. Even though those efforts had occurred in the 60s and the 80s, at least three families from there traveled to Peoria for his visitation. For the most part, Archie is the reason that I started preparing sermons. When he asked if I could preach in Browning, it never dawned on me that I could say, “No.”
Some people are not joke-tellers, but abstinence from that endeavor does not mean they do not have a sense of humor. In his Bible on a sticky note we found the following humorous bit: “Happiness is waking up in the morning and finding your boss’s picture on a milk carton.” Probably the most the family ever saw him laugh was prompted by an event that occurred a number of years ago when a boy dating his second-oldest daughter got stuck in the snow and mud of the street perpendicular to the driveway. The house was situated in a level clearing hollowed out of the woods. The driveway branched off of the narrow road that spiraled through the trees, ascending steeply at times. The side of the road opposite the house sported a great deal of shrubbery, but the embankment sloped off sharply beyond it. Archie asked the man who was all dressed up for the date to get behind the car to push it off the road back into the driveway. There was a muffled scream as the lad disappeared. Archie whirled around to find no one there. “Where’d you go?” he called. Under the bushes some fifteen feet below came a shaky voice, “I’m down here.” He climbed back up, and after the car was rescued, the boy came inside to wash his wounds and scratches. After they left on the date, Archie and the rest of us laughed over the episode for several minutes. Years later, a recollection of the event would evoke the same response.
Sometimes Archie would entertain ideas that were not really worthy of his attention. He once wrote three pages, single-spaced, devoted to a study of the word and. Several religious books of all types lined his shelves. He enjoyed ideas and studying a subject, no matter where it led; truth, however, was always the goal. He believed that Jesus meant it when He said, “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free” (John 8:32).
He didn’t begin his study of Hebrew and Greek until he turned 60. Some thought that this endeavor would not work out, since his command of English was sometimes lacking, but he proved to be a good student.
Thanksgiving was always a family affair. Usually present were the two sons, three daughters, grandchildren, and (recently) great-grandchildren. After a bountiful meal, one could count on a few games of Rook and Aggravation. A few would be keeping an eye on the football game, but at the appropriate time (which Archie would decide) everyone would be expected to join in the singing of hymns and spiritual songs, which might last an hour. In recent years, Archie asked family members to say what they were thankful for before the prayer for the meal. One could not help noticing the emotion in the voice and the tears in the eyes of a man that many would have mistakenly thought too gruff to experience. The importance of family was exceeded only by the desire for all family members to be saved.
One year, after Oliver Stone’s release of the movie, J. F. K., several of us were speculating on who was responsible for what had occurred in Dallas all those years ago. The conversation ended abruptly when Archie stated rather matter-of-factly: “God killed him–because of his fornication and immorality.”
Everyone will miss those favorite expressions, such as, “You orn’ry pup,” “Don’t kid yourself,” “That’s the truth,” and even the mundane, “How about a cup of coffee?” accompanied by an ingratiating smile. Archie and Irene celebrated 50 years together in 1996. He passed away a month and a day after his 73rd birthday.
During most of his life he moved with a restless energy. There was the next project for the house, the next book to read, visiting his daughter and her husband in Liberia, the next game of golf, traveling to raise money for the church’s exhibit at the state fair–or preparing a sermon to preach. Details concerning life after death are scanty, beyond the descriptions of boundless joy or great torment. Because of God’s grace and Archie’s obedience, we have no doubts as to his current state of happiness. But if in that blissful realm there are discussion groups or an opportunity to hear difficult passages of the Bible explained, Archie will be there, listening, learning, and asking questions.