Tribute To My Pastor

My Ordination Service at Glendale, April 2008

I can hear his voice, echoing hundreds of times through thousands of sermons I sat under during his ministry: “Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time” and “The only thing greater than greatness is the ability to recognize greatness.” Every time my pastor uttered those words I stared at the very person who embodied their meaning, because Richard Oldham was the greatest man I ever knew. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know him. I knew him as my pastor, the only one I’ve had. Glendale Baptist Church was my church, and Bro. Richard was my shepherd. I knew him as my teacher. Anchored Christian School was my school, and RPO taught daily Bible classes and led twice weekly chapels for my entire K-12 progression. He handed me both my kindergarten certificate and my high school diploma. I knew him as my family member, for Pastor Oldham could often be found at our home on his birthday or special holiday occasions. How we loved him. I knew him as my friend, for I cannot count the number of times I've been on visits and journeys with him, or the times I’ve sought his counsel on every matter imaginable, from trusting in the Lord for salvation to how to ask a girl out on a date (yep). 

RPO eating breakfast at our home, circa 1994

I can see his gaze, a look from someone who consistently viewed the world through the eyes of Christ. I remember growing up with a profound respect for this man of God. I wasn’t the only one who revered him. There was a holiness and authority about his life that you couldn’t help but recognize if you spent just a moment in his presence. When he pointed his finger at me from the pulpit one Sunday and said, “Barry, you need to tithe,” this 10 year old boy immediately began putting 10% in the offering plate, knowing that God himself had a count on my piggy bank.  Even people who didn’t attend his church sensed his calling. Waitresses, grocery baggers, and hospital workers alike all addressed him as “Bro. Richard,” even if they weren’t particularly zealous in faith. To this day, I can’t bring myself to call him by his first name. When I strolled into church one Sunday night without a tie on, amid the congregational singing, he motioned me to the platform, leaned into my ear, and told me there were a number of ties on the back door of his office and that I was welcome to any of them. I went and put one on. I was 19. Age wasn’t a factor when it came to reverence for him though. I’ve seen grown men with grandchildren revert back to childhood in his presence, pastors of thousands and presidents of educational institutions reduced to mere students in Bro. Richard’s classroom of ministry.

After I preached Southern Seminary's chapel service, April 2010

I can feel his touch, the paradox of his plier-like grip and the steady thumping of his fist into my chest set against the warm embrace of his genuine compassion. He didn’t especially like to hug (though he frequently did), but he loved to help, particularly those in need. He had a gift of perfect timing when he spoke to you, for his words so often resounded like apples of gold in pictures of silver (Proverbs 25:11). When I was 7, too young to participate in the youth festivities but overly eager to partake in the pizza they received, their rejection left me in tears. Bro. Richard found out about it, sat me down, and encouraged me to remember how it felt, and when I saw someone else in the same situation, not to let it happen to them (he then made sure I got one of those slices). At 15, I underwent some profound doubting of my salvation. Bro. Richard knelt with me in his office, asked me if I was willing to trust in the Lord, heaven or hell, sink or swim, and to commit my life to him regardless of the consequences. I laid my burden down that night, and the peace of God overwhelmed my heart. His heart for others goes far beyond my life. I’ve watched him walk around with a shopping cart at Winn-Dixie, stuff it with food till it was overflowing, and take it to a single mom with four kids living in a run-down motel room because their dad had just kicked them out that day. How often he would say to a young person, “God has his hand on you.” He had an ability to speak into people's lives and call into existence character traits and spiritual qualities that simply were not present beforehand. Those cast aside by the world and even the church found the trajectory of their lives forever altered after an encounter with the Lord’s recruiter. I’ve never seen anyone minister with the love of God to individual people as effectively as Richard Oldham did. No one.

Kentucky Baptist Convention Youth Bible Drill, 2000

I can taste his zeal, the zealousness of one who hungered and thirsted after righteousness, one who had tasted and seen that the Lord was good. He had a holy boldness reserved only for God’s select giants of faith. When a gunman entered our sanctuary and attempted to halt the morning worship service during my 4th grade year, I remember RPO staring him down, pointing his finger in his direction, calling on the Lord to protect his flock, and refusing to stop preaching: “No sir, you will not!” The deacons of the church gathered around the pulpit, surrounding my pastor, and the gunman surrendered. His heart did not fear. I went visiting with him one night in college to see a man who had just left his wife. He insisted that there was no one else involved, but Bro. Richard looked him in the eye and said, “____, I wasn’t born yesterday, and if you're seeing someone else, then you're in sin, and God will judge you one day.” It was as if the Holy Spirit vacuumed the oxygen out of that room. Surely the prophets of old must have had this same anointing; yet, his zeal was coupled with deep humility. When I went to men’s prayer breakfasts on Saturdays with my father (more for the breakfast than the prayer for an elementary kid), I heard my pastor pray, “God forgive me for my wicked heart.” If his heart was wicked, mine was desperately so. Before I preached in the chapel service at Southern Seminary, Dr. Mohler recognized RPO as the pastor who had raised up more preachers than anyone he knew in North America. Even as he rose to accept the ovation of recognition, his head remained down, his posture bent, recalling his life verse: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). God’s holy anointing rested in a humble vessel.

RPO being recognized by Dr. Mohler at Southern Seminary, April 2010

I can sense his eccentricities, even though some of the aspects of his life I probably found more ironic than he did. He ALWAYS wore a tie. Always. He mowed his yard in a tie (complete with work suit). He helped build the Living Christmas Tree in a tie. On the annual summer mission trips to Mexico, he labored in a tie (and so did everyone else), in sweltering heat. He wore a tie underneath his hospital gown. Sometimes, he even wore his tie to bed. Whenever someone asked to go on a prayer breakfast in Bible class, RPO would immediately schedule it for the next day, and Shoney’s would be bombarded by adolescence. One of our favorite events was to have him “fix” our desserts at the buffet bar. He would take a large plate and top it with everything imaginable until it overflowed with ice cream, cookies, and a colossal amount of toppings. He loved to fellowship with young people. He gave out upwards of 50 bonus points on his tests because he wanted everyone to make an “A." Although the teachers didn’t care much for this practice, students loved him for it. He taught every last one of us how to lead music, even if we couldn’t sing at all, because he wanted us to have the ability to lead churches in every aspect of ministry if necessary. I couldn’t have known then how that skill would come in handy for many of us.  Every year, the junior high and high school took a two day trip to Mammoth Cave. The rest of the world calls that type of event a “retreat." RPO called it an “advance," because Christians don’t retreat (he also took us to the Parthenon replica in Nashville, the Hermitage [Andrew Jackson’s estate], the Red River Meeting House, My Old Kentucky Home, and a host of other places). He paid my first speeding ticket when I took him to help his sister Edith move out of her apartment in Louisville. He also didn’t tell a soul. Mom and Dad had no idea (and probably still don’t until this post). His command of Scripture was immense, which gave him a full repertoire of Biblical allusions, as he mentioned to me on several occasions that I drove like the charioteer Jehu (“furiously" in KJV parlance). He was one to talk, as Bro. Richard rarely obeyed the speed limit (“The Lord’s work requireth haste,” he often remarked). When Christmas time came around, watching our pastor open presents was an event. He refused to tear wrapping paper and would save it for future years (“I grew up in the depression…”). He rarely threw away anything. He never owned a television set nor did he use the internet. His preferred method of communication was an old electronic typewriter, letters from which must number in the thousands. He had proficient letter writing, eloquent speech and diction, and unmatched presence. He was a Shakespearean character, an other-worldly figure from an era long gone by, one from which we have much to learn.

Dr. Al Mohler, RPO, Rev. Raymond Ward, & Dr. Hershael York, April 2010

I owe everything in my life to Richard P. Oldham because of the Lord he so faithfully served. So many memories are too numerous to mention. The streets of heaven are crowded tonight, for there are thousands of lives within its gates who have been touched by his ministry. Although my pastor was far from perfect and was as much in need of Christ as any of us, at times I looked into his life and thought: Surely, this is what the Lord must be like. Somehow, I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was witnessing a glimpse into the character of God. Richard Oldham represents the kind of life I want to live, the kind of church I want to lead, and the kind of man I want to be. I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.


For more info on Bro. Richard's life and ministry, click on the links below:

Bro. Richard's Obituary in the Bowling Green Daily News

Coverage of Bro. Richard's Memorial Service in the Bowling Green Daily News

Video of Bro. Richard's Celebration of Life Service

Dr. R. Albert Mohler's tribute to RPO on The Briefing

Baptist Press article on Bro. Richard's Life and Legacy

My Reflections on Bro. Richard's 50th Anniversary as Pastor of Glendale Baptist Church

RPO presenting me with my kindergarten certificate, May 1991

In Front of Glendale BC, Circa 1992

At the grave of RPO's parents, Bruce and Lessie Oldham, in New Castle, August 2013

Celebrating RPO's 75th birthday at our home, June 13, 2005

Dr. Mohler recognizing RPO at Southern Seminary, April 2010

RPO with some of the men called into ministry under him. Front Row, L to R: Johnny Deakins, Lonnie Mattingly, Eric Martin, and Jerry Adamson. Back Row: Barry Fields, Ed Snider, Daniel Bates, Brian Berkley, and Chris Turpin. He also received an honorary doctorate from Shawnee Baptist College that evening and preached the graduation commencement ceremony, May 2006.

Glendale Baptist Church album, circa 1975

 

Tribute To A Family Friend

Learned tonight that a lifelong friend of our family has passed away. Joe was at every get-together (Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, etc.) we had on Mom's side for as long as I can remember. In addition to his job working for the highway road crew, Joe also labored on the farm and milked cows for my Aunt Pearl & Cousin Charles Lee. He mowed the yard for my great-grandmother, Bessie Ashbaugh (Granny), Aunt Pearl's sister, for decades. He would fix things around the house for her, never taking a dime, though she offered to pay him many times. Joe brought Granny Kentucky Fried Chicken every Saturday. Whenever Granny cooked, she always cooked enough for him. He brought her mail in every day and would fuss at her when she got it herself. He often took Granny and Aunt Pearl to the beauty parlor and grocery store in what must have appeared to outsiders as a modern-day Driving Miss Daisy arrangement. He usually drove a Cadillac because that was his favorite car. Joe could frequently be found hanging around High Grove Grocery because of his love of people. He would carry grocery bags for folks, calling them by name. He used to give my little sister quarters just because he knew she hated holding change (the germs freaked her out). He would regularly sit out in the barn with my cousin & a group of men that would gather around from the different farms & shoot the breeze. I called them the world-problem solvers. Watching him try to work an iPhone he purchased a couple of years back was an experience as I attempted to show him how to use it. He was always amazed when someone showed him or told him something new. He just had a natural curiosity about him, coupled with a generous spirit. His surname was Goldring, but it might as well have been Goldheart. Though not related to any of us genetically or by marriage, he was as much a part of our family as anyone. In fact, Granny’s children, Betty & Patsy (my grandmother and aunt), referred to him as “brother." Granny often remarked that Joe was as good to her as a son would have been. In a world often torn apart by racial & ethnic divisions, Joe's love for us and ours for him represented what humanity can be, what the Apostle Paul describes in Galatians 3:28: there is neither black nor white, there is neither Jew nor Gentile, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, but you are all one in Christ Jesus. I can't imagine not having you around in this life. Rest in peace, my friend.
 

Tribute to Louise Pinkston

I never met Louise Pinkston, but I knew her. I never spoke to Louise Pinkston, but I heard her. I never saw Louise Pinkston, but I encountered her. I knew her through the youngest son she raised, Matthew Brandon. I heard her gentle and quiet spirit through his prayers, pleas of quiet desperation for a movement from almighty God. I encountered her humility through his demeanor, a simple desire to be faithful to his Lord.

Most of us don't know that Matt scored a 31 on his ACT or that he graduated as valedictorian of his more than 500 member class. Matt wouldn't want you to know because those kind of accomplishments aren't important to him. His mother raised him to acquire his approval from the Lord, not from men. Rather than using his degree and background in pursuit of the almighty dollar, Matt instead chose to pursue a calling from the Almighty.

Mothers play a crucial role in the lives of their sons, perhaps most crucial. Their years of love and support provide invaluable physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual stability. Louise knew her role. Even as Matt was born late in the lives of her and Gene, Louise attended every band recital and ball game imaginable in order to cheer her son as he played the tuba. Her years of support led to great blessing for the church he serves, as he now leads our worship gatherings every week.

I knew her through the many students who came to Matt on a weekly basis. I heard her through the countless algebra & geometry problems they brought to his desk, the benefit of having a student pastor with a background in engineering (an opportunity I only wish I could have had). I saw her through the wise counsel and truth in love he gave to middle and high school folks who sometimes sought Matt out in their dilemma before their parents, such was their trust in his character. Louise was there. She was right there.

I knew her as a newly called pastor, for her son has provided a servant's heart and has taken on numerous responsibilities during this time of transition. Her desire to serve rather than be served was plainly evident in the life of her son. His determination to be in Henderson as often as possible to check on and care for his parents demonstrated a life seeking to help others rather than himself. He learned that from somewhere. He learned that from someone.

The writer of Proverbs reminds us that a mother is praised when her children rise up and call her blessed. Today, all heaven is ringing with applause, as one of God's choice servants has completed her mission. Oh, we may have never met her, but we knew her. We sure knew her.

Note: Louise Pinkston went to be with the Lord on Tuesday, March 26th, 2013. Her son Matthew is Pastor of Students & Worship at Hawesville Baptist Church.

Gay Marriage Debate

The following article is available online:

http://www.laruecountyherald.com/content/letter-gay-marriage-debate-continues#.T7Pv_OezkJQ.twitter


LETTER: Gay marriage debate continues

Wednesday, May 16, 2012 at 10:37 am

For the better part of the past two decades, the debate over the definition of marriage has steadily intensified. Numerous states have undergone public referendums banning homosexual arrangements or, contrarily, allowing civil unions. Recently, our president came out in favor of gay marriage, offering his personal support. As a pastor, I have had to ask, "How should the church of God respond?"

I believe the answer is twofold. As Christians, we must decide if we desire to be obedient to the culture or to be obedient to the scriptures. The Bible makes clear that marriage is not simply a legal contract, but rather a covenantal union between one man and one woman, an earthly portrayal and representation of Christ and his bride, the church. Believers must stand firm in their convictions about a relationship that defines the very core of family identity and the continuation of society through procreation. The definition of marriage has remained unaltered for thousands of years, and it seems unwise for our civilization to disengage from that historical pattern.

Yet, believers cannot simply end the conversation there. We must learn to love our neighbors as ourselves, for every person on this planet has been created in the image of God, including those with whom we disagree. While we cannot endorse homosexuality as a marital union, neither can we promote homophobia nor behave as if those who engage in homosexual acts are somehow less valued by the God who loves his creation. Nothing could be further from the truth. When I was in college at Western Kentucky University, I had the privilege of competing for the forensic (speech and debate) team. Within that community, I developed friendships with many individuals who identified themselves as gay or lesbian. I learned that the vast majority of these folks were upstanding citizens and most of them were kinder than many Christians I know. I discovered that they needed the message of Jesus Christ just as much as I did and our differences did not hinder our friendships. We must speak the truth, but we must speak that truth in love.

Let us endeavor to unapologetically declare God's word to a generation in need, and let us commit to a sacrifical love embodied by a carpenter from Nazareth who gave his life for those who disagreed with him. Speak the truth, in love.

Barry E. Fields

Pastor

Mount Tabor Baptist Church

Buffalo

Not My Brother, Not My Sister, But Me, O Lord...

Mt. Tabor Family,

So far this week, we've been greeted with the news that former California governor Arnold Schwarzeneggar fathered a child out of wedlock with the family housekeeper a decade ago. Until just a few days ago, the movie star neglected to tell his wife and children, as well as the voting public. Over the weekend, International Monetary Fund (IMF) President Dominique Strauss-Kahn, a man who has had a successful track record with this financial institution and who many considered to be a viable presidential candidate in his native France, was arrested and charged with raping a maid at the hotel where he was staying in New York City. These stories are not uncommon. How often have we learned of politicians, entertainers, athletes, and business tycoons who appear to have it all, only to throw it away for seemingly nothing? It seems that the more powerful one is or the more successful one becomes, the easier it is to fall.

Yet, underneath these scandalous headlines lies something far more common: the depravity of the human heart; the desire to turn away from the face of God. While we may not have the name recognition or run in the same influential circles as those mentioned above, the truth is that you and I face the same temptations every single day. We are constantly confronted with opportunities to be unfaithful to our spouses, dishonest with our families, or arrogant with our co-workers. In the Bible, Paul warns believers that anyone who thinks they stand better take heed lest they fall. Solomon lets us know in Proverbs that pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

It's not just the tabloid sins that get us in trouble. Every time we neglect prayer before making a major decision, place other priorities ahead of worshiping and serving the Lord, or value our comfort and entertainment over loving our neighbor, we are saying exactly the same phrase as these public figures in our hearts: "God, I don't need you. I can make it on my own." Even if the vices you are enjoying appear to be kept under the radar, rest assured that "the secret things of the heart will one day be revealed." Only through a careful and consistent dependence on the Spirit of God to work in our lives and a total saturation of his word can we have hope that the same fate met by these individuals does not also meet us.

God help us to stay close to and dependent on the Lord who sees and knows all.

See you Sunday,

Bro. Barry - Psalm 19:14

Tribute To Andrew Singh

My friend’s getting married. This is the day in which my dear brother, Andrew Singh, is pledging himself to another. Surely, it is the biggest day of his 27 year life thus far. When he came to the United States for the first time over a decade ago, I know that he did not expect to be here for this moment. God certainly works in mysterious ways. For the past three years, I have watched a pastor who knows how to care for the souls of his flock, observed an international come into a rural area and embrace this community with his whole heart, and learned what it really means to walk with the Lord, day in and day out. Together, we have formed an unofficial duo, the “Bachelors of Buffalo.” Today, the plural becomes singular.

Andrew and I have had many experiences during our friendship. For starters, “Ghandi” (my affectionate nickname bestowed on him) is always singing to himself, and I have learned many Southern Gospel songs from an Indian. Then there’s the cell phone, which is constantly plugged to his ear: “How are you doing, my frieennnddd?!” There’s the Hindi / Southern accent, which is incredibly difficult to place. One day Andrew said to me, “Brother, people always know who I am when I call them. I don’t even have to say my name!” I wonder why, Reverend Singh! There’s the mispronounced syllables, wherein my foreign friend often replaces a “v” with a “w”. Andrew’s conversation with the minister yesterday at the rehearsal: “Pastor Carl, when I do remove her “whale”? (he meant to say “veil”). Perhaps Jonah will show up today, big fish in tow. Since he is an avowed Methodist and I am firmly Southern Baptist (missions AND potlucks), we often have theological “conversations.” We finally just settled on an introduction whenever we meet new people: “He sprinkles. I dunk. We’re still friends.” The looks we’ve received from folks have been priceless.

Then there’s the other, more serious side of my friend. Whenever I’ve had a tough day or a difficult situation at church, there’s always one person who is going to call and ask how things are going. When people are sick or feeble, you can bet there will be a man of God visiting them in the hospital or singing to them in the nursing home. Whenever our folks have surgery, I try to go the hospital and pray with them, then return later on to see how they’re doing. I thought that was pretty good until I observed my Methodist brother. Andrew will ride with them to the hospital, stay all day, and take them home that night. When two of his fellow seminary students were tragically killed in a car accident 18 months ago, Andrew preached their funeral and wrote a song commemorating their lives, telling everyone present that “Jesus is Lord.” I have met many people that have a heart after God, but most of the time they are older and have more experience. With Andrew Singh, though, you can sense the presence of the Lord just by being around him. That is unusual for someone his age.

Around two years ago, he began conversing on the phone with Arpita, his future bride. I could tell something was up by the way his face brightened when he spoke of her. Through providence, Arpita was able to come to Kentucky (the “Promised Land”) this past summer. She enrolled at Asbury and is working on her master’s in counseling. She’ll need it living with my absent-minded friend. Andrew’s mother was responsible for setting up the relationship (in Indian tradition, the parents often pick spouses for their children). As we were coming back from Elizabethtown one day, Andrew looked over my way and said, “Brother, I am going to find you a wife.” We all laughed, then Arpita stared back at him and responded, “Yeah, call your mom!” I think he’s met his match (we are currently in the bargaining stages for naming their future firstborn son ‘Barry’. It has a great ring to it, in my opinion).

Seeing them together the past few months, I believe the Lord most definitely has his hand on these two. Andrew’s first name is actually Arpan (Andrew is his middle name). In the Hindi language, Arpan and Arpita are the masculine and feminine words for the same meaning: “offering to God.” Today, they offer themselves as living sacrifices (Romans 12) to God’s kingdom work. The two become one.

My friend’s getting married. And I couldn’t be happier for him.

Sunday Morning, October 11, 2009

I Am the Resurrection and the Life - John 11:17-44 from Barry E. Fields on Vimeo.