A Service Remembering the Life of
Mr. Bard E. Lindeman
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Lawrenceville, Georgia
Dr. James C. Elder, Jr., Minister
Matthew 21:13-17 (The Message)
Jesus went straight to the Temple and threw out everyone who had set up shop, buying and selling. He kicked over the tables of loan sharks and the stalls of dove merchants. He quoted this text: My house was designated a house of prayer; You have made it a hangout for thieves. Now there was room for the blind and crippled to get in. They came to Jesus and he healed them. When the religious leaders saw the outrageous things he was doing, and heard all the children running and shouting through the Temple, "Hosanna to David's Son!" they were up in arms and took him to task. "Do you hear what these children are saying?"
Jesus said, "Yes, I hear them. And haven't you read in God's Word, 'From the mouths of children and babies I'll furnish a place of praise'?" Fed up, Jesus turned on his heel and left the city for Bethany, where he spent the night.
This is a passage I have never used to begin a memorial service for anyone, but it fit for my dear friend Bard Lindeman. Let me tell you why. At this point in Jesus’ life, He realized that time was short and that He had to get a particular message across. He was into making sure that the Temple was the place of worship and prayer that made room for everyone. Jesus had gone to the temple and sought to pray. He heard the hawking of the money changers, smelled the stench of the caged animals, saw the clutter of the porches that prevented people from entering, was harassed by those who were constantly trying to make a deal, and was generally disturbed when He sought the solace of a sanctuary. He saw that the temple had not only become corrupted by the presence of these people who brought things to the temple that were not supposed to be there, but the people had failed to do anything about it. The religious leadership had certainly not protested.
Jesus refused to allow the house of God to slip into the complacency of bad habits and destructive behavior that would limit the life of the temple and the worship of God. He knew that someone had to say something, and it could not be subtle. It had to be bold, fresh, and insistent. It also has to be inspiring. Jesus knew that He would have to turn over some of the accepted approaches—the money changers, the animal salespersons, the noisy trinket venders of the temple. People did not like their being there, particularly; but no one was committed enough to do something outrageous, like tell them that they were wrong and that there was a better way. He cleansed the temple and gave the people an opportunity to come back and pray. The children sang praises to God. The sick and lame came and were healed. The people prayed. The hope was restored. It took a person—Jesus—who cared enough to listen to the people’s needs and offer the help, support, and guidance that they needed. He had to know enough and be willing to step out, boldly, and change things.
This is the Bard Lindeman that I knew. He was a man who knew that life was short, that God gave us only one body and one life, and knew that it was our place to see that complacency not allow the gift to slip away. He had watched as one so dear to him died a difficult death from illness. He was passionate about knowing how this miraculous body of ours worked and how God put us together. He was determined to understand how to improve its performance and protect it from disease. He was one who did not think that age was necessarily something that one should sit down and wait for it to overtake them. He was a man who overturned the tables of complacency, fought the tendency of people to slip into inactivity, refused to give in to illness, and did not see death as something inevitable that we acquiesce to, but something that we ran like mad from until we could run no more. This was not that he was so afraid of death, as he was in love with life. I think God applauds this. He wants us to enjoy the life He has given us, and do all we may to be good stewards of the precious time that we are given on this earth.
In faith, Bard knew that life would one day come to an end. He knew that the end of life was not something to run from, but he was also not ready to get on the bus today. He was never finished with life, and never gave up hope.
In his book about being an outrageous older person he wrote, As senior adults, and outrageous older men, we are well-advised not to take life too seriously. Further, we have license to keep alive within us that inner child. "We are intended to remain in many ways childlike," anthropologist Ashley Montagu once wrote. "We were never intended to grow up into the kind of adults most of us have become. We are designed. . . to grow and develop in ways that emphasize rather than minimize childlike traits."
An educator, as well as a shrewd observer, Montagu suggests we have only to watch children to understand the essential nature of fun and abandon. To children, curiosity is as natural as breathing. From curiosity comes playfulness, open-mindedness, the willingness to experiment, flexibility, humor, energy, and, of course, imagination. To my mind, none of these qualities is precluded by aging. Therefore, we outrageous guys have every right to test ourselves by asking the following question: "How many of these behaviors do you see within yourself today?"
Because confession is good for the soul, I admit that I sneak into swimming pools. Just like some kid, I find a way to cross the line from outside to inside because I like to swim and I especially enjoy trying Out different pools. Much like the boy who collects baseball cards, or the matron proud of her row of antique clocks, I collect pools where I have beaten the gate, so to speak.
Bard dedicated his life to helping others understand that life is for the living. He wrote columns, answering questions, filled with hope and possibilities. To summarize what he wrote in most of the columns, he would speak of the realities, but say that the person should not give up. He believed in medicine as a gift given to us, and felt that everyone should utilize the latest in medical discoveries to improve the quality of lives. In his columns, he introduced readers to possibilities that most did not realize existed. He encouraged them to not give up hope, but try something new. He pushed the idea of exercise defined, not by what age might dictate, but by what life was willing to embrace. I wonder how many people’s lives were changed by reading his syndicated column. No one will ever know in this life. I wonder how many people have a clipping of an article by Bard tucked in the front of a book. I wonder how many people have an article tacked to the refrigerator door. There will be more than you think. I also wonder how many were able to embrace life again when the complacency, fatigue, and conventional wisdom told them to “get their affairs in order and prepare to go.” How many life years were gained by people’s hope being restored?
Jesus taught that we are to bring hope to others. He taught that we are to help them see possibilities beyond sin, poor habits, and disappointment. Jesus was about second chances, even if he had to turn over a table or two. Bard was also, and he turned over a table or two. His book about being an outrageous older man is inspiring, funny, and challenging. The chatter about it was good. People still remember it though it was published a decade ago.
The reason that I chose to read the paraphrase from Eugine Peterson, called The Message, is that Peterson speaks of the outrageous things that Jesus did. This is outrageous in the good sense. Bard interpreted the term outrageous in these terms: "a code word for the independent, free-thinking, strong-willed mature adult" Lindeman divides his prose into six categories: get outrageous; the outrageous mind; the outrageous body; outrageous actions; outrageous relationships and your outrageous spirit. After he overturns the tables of complacency, he gives something positive, constructive, and challenging to fill the place.
I do not think that it is over-stated to say that Bard Lindeman was an outrageous man. We celebrate that life today.
Bard could have become totally overwhelmed and bitter when his wife died. He knew too much for the event to be easy. HE pressed on, continuing his career and building a future. He met Jan Still. I was Pastor at Ebenezer and extremely close with Jan’s parents, Ross and Letha. There was a bit of an age difference between Bard and Jan, and they both dreaded telling Letha and Ross. The couple decided to test the waters. Their relationship was getting serious enough that they needed to let Ross and Letha know about it. They did what anyone would do, they called the preacher. I talked with Jan and she invited Roxann and me to meet them at the Fish House at Lennox Mall. We went, ate, discussed, and plotted the strategy for how Ross and Letha would be told about what she was doing. The ring was not far away, and Jan did not want to allow Ross and Letha to be in the dark about her relationship. Jan’s parents took it all very well. They were supportive and embraced Bard as he did them. They were clearly in love, and the love lasted throughout the 27 years of their marriage.
Bard was a teller of stories as well. From the book, The Twins Who Found Each Other, to the other books he wrote, to the conversations that he had, the columns he wrote, to the conversations that he had, Bard was a great story teller. He drew from his wealth of experience. I was always amazed. He observed, listened, and learned. True, he always had a suggestion on how things should be done, but he was still amazing. He and I would swap stories. Sometimes he would even come and listen to me preach. He and Jan have visited Roxann and me in every place where we have lived. The last time was when they came to Callaway Gardens near our home in Columbus. We met for lunch, and spent a long time telling stories to each other.
One of my favorite was one of his favorites. We all brush fame and greatness at times in our lives, though sometimes our genius remains a bit hidden. If I remember the story correctly, Bard and a doctor were friends. The doctor had written a book about war, medicine, doctors, and other related things. In typical “Bard” fashion, I can still see him lean across the table, get a broad smile and say, “Publishers did not pick up the book. I think it was because there were not any women in the book! You got to have some women in the book.” He was also a friend with a publisher. The book publisher refused to publish Bard’s doctor friend’s book. The publisher did recognize the artistry and precision with which the doctor wrote. The publisher wanted Bard to talk his doctor friend and convince him to write the book that the publisher wanted. Bard negotiated in such a way that both the book would be published and the book that the publisher wanted would be written. These negotiations were difficult and time-consuming. He did it as a favor for his friends and essentially collected nothing for it. The book was published. It was made into a movie, and eventually M.A.S.H came to television for many long seasons.
As a writer for Family Circle, Reader’s Digest, specialty publications, newspapers, and other media, Bard came in contact with very interesting people. I even found an article where he and another person sat down with Walter Cronkite. The most interesting people, and those with whom he was most fascinated were those in his own family. You have been his pride and joy. He has enjoyed having you as a part of his life. You have stimulated his thinking and given him a reason to be the person he has been.
Jan, you brought Bard new hope and joy. You faced all sorts of things together and enjoyed so much together. When times were tough, you were there together. You had laughter and tears, but always you had love. God gave you to each other, and it was a good choice for you both!
The psalmist, in Psalm 23 reminds us that life is a journey. You never know where it is going to take you. You do know, and the psalmist points out, that there will be ups and downs in life. Life will not always be easy. You will have fatigue, enemies, disappointments, the need for discipline, the need for guidance, even a valley of the shadow of death. The point is that when you face these times, that the person of faith is not going to face them alone. The Lord is with us. Listen to the words of Psalm 23. Listen especially for the twists and turns of life as well as where life ends.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever (Psalm 23:1-6).
Notice the promise of care in life and a home beyond this life that we find at the end of the Psalm. Jesus carries this promise to fulfillment in John 14:1-3.
Jesus said, Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also (John 14:1-3).
Throughout my ministry, I have known people who stopped and waited for death to come an overtake them, and I have known those whom God would have to run down when He was ready to take them home. Bard was one of these people and he taught others to be so. In grammar school, I remember a story in my reader. You remember readers, do you not? These were collections of stories that we read in class as a part of our reading exercises. There was one story that I will never forget. It was a story of a little boy and his grandfather. The grandfather was a very pragmatic sort who was unpretentious and plain-spoken. He and the grandson talked about life issues. The little boy asked him what he felt about death. The grandfather at first did not seem to hear the boy as he thought about his answer. He finally responded, “Well, son, the way I look at it is you should live while you can . . . and then die and be done with it.” I could always see this in Bard. He was going to squeeze all the goody out of life, living while he could. When he was ill, he fought it with all determination believing that he would beat the illness. Finally, he came to a day when life could not continue. He died, and was done with that. The reason that I like this is that I believe that it fits into our theology. Bard and I talked about religion on occasion. I believe that he had a working faith, though a bit unconventional and exploratory. He was always looking for more, always curious about the “why,” but never doubting the “Who.”
St. Paul, the Apostle, wrote, 31What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:31-39).
This is true, and I believe that Bard understood this. I wonder how many people Bard influenced for the better. On this side of heaven we will never know, but in heaven Bard probably knows as we gather here today. I can tell you one person whom he affected . . . me. In the month of November I turned 55 years of age. In that same month, I completed a multi-day Iron Man Triathlon sponsored by the YMCA in Columbus. I got the t-shirt! I had never competed in such in my life, but I remembered a man who challenged others who topped 50 years of age to do something outrageous, to turn over the tables of convention and restore the hope in the temple that is the body that God gave us. In part, I did this because Bard got me thinking about this when I first met him, and throughout our friendship he turned over tables in my life. I am one whose life is different because of this good, positive, hopeful man.
The writer of Ecclesiastes wrote, 1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: 2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 & 11).
While we live we will do well to leave the world a little better than we found it, a little more restored, a little
more positive, a little more hopeful . . . you get the picture. Bard did! You find a way to do more than you think and remember to never stop enjoying the life you are given.
As I was preparing this service, I thought of a secular song. (Forgive me for bringing a secular song to this moment, but it is so very appropriate for Frances.) The song is sung by Lee Ann Womack. I invite you to listen to the words of this song.
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance . . .
I absolutely love that song, and I am not a Country Music fan by any means. It captures what wonder is all about from a human standpoint. It also encourages all of us to always keep a free side that allows us to reach beyond the conventional to that which is demanded by the rhythms of life. The truth is that he faced all sorts of challenges and handled them as a strong man of faith. It is my prayer that you will always have the ability to experience life in the context of your Bard’s love, keeping a side that is free enough to feel the rhythm of life that leads to a dance of freedom and joy. In this way, he will always be with you here. In this way, you will always feel his love. Listen to words that I think Bard might like for me to leave with you.
If I should ever leave you whom I love
To go along the Silent Way, grieve not,
Nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk
Of me as if I were beside you there.
(I’d come – I’d come, could I but find a way! But would not tears and grief be barriers?)
And when you hear a song or see a bird
I loved,please do not let the thought of me
Be sad . . . for I am loving you just as I always have . . .
You were so good to me!
There are so many things I wanted still
To do- so many things to say to you . . .
Remember that I did not fear . . . It was
Just leaving you that was so hard to face . . .
We cannot see Beyond . . .
But this I know:
I loved you so- t’was heaven here with you.
-Isla Paschal Richardson
May God bless you as you remember this good, outrageous man! AMEN.
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