A man bought a parrot, but when he got him home, the parrot started cursing and biting people. They tried everything from soft music to talking nicely to it, but nothing worked. One day, after the bird let out a string of expletives, the man, in a fit of anger grabbed the bird and threw him into the freezer. At first, the parrot squawked, then it beat on the freezer door, then it begged to get out. The man opened the door and the parrot said, “I ‘m sorry and I promise to behave. But I gotta know one thing, what did this chicken do?”
Today I wonder what I did to deserve the responsibility to eulogize our dear friend, Brother John Norville. But it is a responsibility that I gladly accept and it is my hope that when we’re finished here today, you’ll know what a true Christian funeral ought to look like. You see, it’s not going to be like many funerals you’ve ever experienced before. But that’s alright, because John Norville was not like any person we’ve ever experienced before either, and it’s fitting that his funeral model his life.
So we’ll be reflective at times, and we’ll joke around a bit, and we’ll talk about God’s amazing grace, and we’ll laugh at a few stories, and we’ll remember our friend, and father, husband and brother. We’re going to do just what John would want us to do here today. We’re going to celebrate his life, applaud his victory, and share his love.
John’s mother said he would not amount to anything because he procrastinated so much. He told her, “you just wait.” Today the waiting ends. Today, we’re pulling out all the stops, and are leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that John Norville was a true man of God, a true friend of humanity, and one who truly deserves all the honor we can bestow today.
I started with a joke because for eighteen years, John would walk up to the pulpit at the Herrin church of Christ and begin his lessons from God’s word with a story that would bring a smile and a chuckle. He wrote them down and filed them away and I’ve gone through and pulled out some of the best of his jokes for today’s eulogy. So all the credit or blame belongs to him.
He was also careful to limit his remarks to 20 minutes. You’ll forgive me today if we don’t achieve that goal, but it seems like a crime to rush to summarize such a full and well lived life in a few minutes. I know that we could be here all day and never exhaust the memories and stories we all hold dear, but this man was so important to so many of us, that it demands that we take all the time we need to reflect on the impact he has made.
To be honest, I wasn’t really prepared for this day. Every time John got ill or went in the hospital, he would tell me, “You better start writing my funeral.”
Alright, are you ready for another joke? Here’s a list of true statements taken from medical charts of patients in the hospital: “The patient refused an autopsy.” “She has had no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states that she was very hot in bed last night.” “Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities.” “Discharge status: Alive but without my permission.”
John was alive for many years without his doctors permission. After his heart attack, his doctors told him that he wouldn’t live to see his 50th wedding anniversary. But they didn’t know the power of the life within this man. That twinkle in his eyes and smirk on his face, as if he knew the punch line to a joke we hadn’t heard. That should have convinced those doctors that he wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
I always wondered if John knew how long he would live when his family hosted a 40th anniversary party for him and Betty. Like a kid opening presents before Christmas, I think John just might have known that he was getting away with something as he opened those golden anniversary gifts on his 40th anniversary. He did live to see his 50th anniversary, and even his 55th. But as he neared his 56th anniversary he heard the Lord calling him, and the invitation looked so attractive that he just couldn’t say no.
He once told me that he wanted his tombstone to read, “A Giant Has Fallen.” He was just 5’ 2". Hardly a giant in stature. But his size was not to be measured in feet and inches, pounds and ounces. 76 years of life, 55 years of marriage, an honorable military career, 46 years as a disciple of Christ, 36 years in preaching, five children, twelve grandchildren, sixteen great grandchildren, brothers, sisters–you don’t tally these kinds of stats without leaving a wake, and John’s wake was as big as an aircraft carrier. But the more you got to know John, the more you realized that his small frame housed a giant spirit.
You could see it in the way he loved life. He loved to joke. Are you ready for another one? The boss came up to the new salesman on his first day on the job and asked him how many sales he had made. The salesman said he only made one sale, but it was for $158,762.00. The boss was shocked. “How did you sell so much.” “Well,” said the salesman, “a guy came in and bought a fish hook. I asked him if he needed a rod and reel to go with that and he said yes. After I sold him a rod and reel, I asked him if he needed a boat. Well, I sold him a boat. ‘How are you going to pull that boat.’ I asked. He said he didn’t now and that’s when I sold him an SUV.” The boss said, “You sold all that to a guy who came in just to buy a fish hook?” The salesman replied, “Oh, he didn’t come in for a fish hook, he came in for an aspirin for his wife’s headache. I told him, ‘You weekend is shot- may as well go fishing.’”
It didn’t matter what was going on, no matter how bad things seemed, John would always help you see the big reward instead of the fish hook. He would coordinate yearly trips to St. Louis to see the Cardinals play. We’d pile in the car and head out for an unforgettable night of fun and friendship. Betty, he may have told you he stayed on his diet, but I’ll tell you he ate everything in sight when we went up there.
I remember when I introduced him to Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. To John, a doughnut was a doughnut, but I told him, “You gotta try these doughnuts!” And once he took that first bite, he said they were the only thing that might tempt him to leave Betty. From then on, every trip up to the ball game had to end with a drive through the Krispy Kreme doughnut shop. Even when John was unable to go with us, we’d always drive through and pick him up a dozen doughnuts. We’d only deliver a half dozen, but it was the thought that counted anyway.
He may have been dying for years, but he was always wringing out every ounce of life each day offered. In his earlier life, John loved to box. He won the golden glove award for light weight. He only got out of it when he once fought a man in the middle weight division and realized there was no future for him as a professional boxer. They would fly from base to base for these matches.
Are you ready for another one? John told the story of one flight. It was aboard a prop plane with four engines. One engine failed, but the pilot told the crew, “We’re ok, but it will take us an extra half hour.” When the second engine went out, the pilot told the crew, “We’re still ok, but we’ll be an hour late.” Then the third engine went out. The pilot was a bit more concerned but said that the plane was designed to function under these emergency conditions and that they would still make it, but would be 1 ½ hours late. A guy in the seat next to John leaned over and said, “If that fourth prop goes out, we’ll be up here all day.”
He slowed down physically in his later years, but his mind never missed a step. He read and studied every day. From Readers Digest to the Bible, John never stopped learning. I’d drop by and he’d have a new joke from the current issue of Readers Digest for me. He’d say, “have you heard this one?” I couldn’t tell him I had just read the same issue. I’d simply say, “No, I haven’t heard it.” And he’d tell it to me word for word, as if he memorized each page. And even though I had read it only days before, hearing him tell it and seeing the joy in his eyes always made it funny again.
He loved to listen to music. “The Orange Blossom Special” was his favorite song. I didn’t say he liked listening to good music. But listening wasn’t enough. He wanted to learn to play the piano. Years earlier, John tried piano lessons. But he and his teacher didn’t hit it off. He said it was that she was a bad teacher. She said it was because he was a bad student. That was years ago, but John never gave up on the dream to play the piano. Many would laugh at a man in his 70’s taking up piano, but John was no ordinary man. He recently bought an electric piano and wanted to learn to play some of his favorite songs. From Big Band to Frank Sinatra, John wanted to master the music he grew up on. He loved Frank’s “I did It My Way.” John sure did.
He loved to go to movies and watch TV, although there were times when he got fed up with what was on television. On more than one occasion, John would vow to never watch TV again. He’d ask around for anyone who wanted to buy his television and sell the thing. But just let baseball season come around, and John would be over at Sears looking at the new models.
He played computer chess and regularly beat the computer. And he loved computer golf. Ever since his heart attack kept him off the links, John longed to get back into the game. So we introduced him to the technology age and the world of computer golf. John was so excited that he bought a $1500.00 computer just to play golf. And he was bad at it. At first, he could not figure out that silly mouse.
Al Jewell and I would go by to help him, and once we saw how much of a problem he was having trying to coordinate that mouse and cursor, we suggested that we play for money. Little did we know what we were in for. John must have practiced more on that game than Tiger does. All I know is that after that first season, Al and I never could pull together a winning streak. Even when we tried to cheat, John would beat us, but he would do it so graciously. He’d say, “Boy, that was a tough loss. I’d hate to be in your shoes.” But we’d always wrap up the night with cookies and milk, three boys playing together.
No one loved life more than John. He was a giant that way.
John was a giant in the way he loved his family. From the time he married Betty and had those five kids, John loved his family deeper than any could imagine. Oh, he wasn’t a perfect father, but none of us are. The best we can hope for is that our spouses and our children can see through our mistakes and know that, no matter what, we’d go to the mat for them. And John made that clear time and time again.
I’d hear about it every time I went to visit him. Rocky’s doing this. Theresa’s’s got a new job, Beverly’s won this award, Brenda’s coming to visit, Jim’s preaching my old sermons. And John, if I had to sit through one more video of one of your basketball games. Even as he was nearing his end, John was loving his grandchildren. You gotta realize that John had to learn all this on his own.
Alright, here’s another one. Two guys applied for a job. They both had equal qualifications, so they were given a ten question test to determine who would get the job. Both men missed question number five. The boss called in one of the men and told him that both he and the other guy had gotten nine out of ten questions right, but that the job was going to the other man. The guy said, “Why’s that, we got the same score?” The boss said it was the way you answered it. His answer to number five was, “I don’t know.” You wrote, “Neither do I.”
John didn’t know about being a good parent from his father. He once told me this sad, but true story. When John came back home from boot camp, he walked in the door and his dad didn’t even look up to see who was entering. John told his dad hi and his father replied, “Where have you been?” John said, “I’ve been away at basic training for twelve weeks.” His dad didn’t even look up as he said, “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you around here lately.”
But John knew where all of his family was at all times. He may not have remembered every great grandchild’s name, but they were in his daily thoughts and prayers.
As John was nearing his end, he only had one regret - that he was leaving Betty behind. I think that’s one reason he fought to live for so many years. It’s a sign of true love to want to outlive your spouse to save him or her from the sorrow of these events. He made every preparation to guarantee that she would be ok. And he would tell her time and again, “I’ll meet you just inside the gate.”
If you walk into his den and look over at the computer, you’ll understand his love. The screen saver rolls across the monitor over and over again. It says, “I love Betty Very Much.” How he figured out how to edit a screen saver, I’ll never know, but it says over and over again what John felt in his heart. I love my wife, I love my children, I love my family.
No one loved his family more than John - he was a giant in that way.
John was a giant in the way he loved his country. He served in the Navy and then the Air Force for many years. They first assigned him to become a mechanic to work on planes, but you gotta know John to realize that he was destined to failure as a mechanic. John was mechanically challenged. Once, when the family moved to Rantoul, they settled in for their first night in their new residence. It was one of the coldest nights in memory and John, realizing that he would have to light the pilot light to start the heat, just told the kids to bundle up and persevere. They all shivered through the night, only to realize the next morning that with one push of a button on the thermostat, they could have been warm. John didn’t know how to operate a thermostat.
He served through three major conflicts, WWII, Korea, Vietnam. Luckily for him, he saw no action. He was a paper pusher. In fact, he told me he thought he deserved a purple heart for a paper cut he got in 1953. But don’t think John wasn’t an integral part of the armed services.
He kept his part of that bureaucracy running smoothly. In fact, he was so good at what he did that he was asked to teach an officers training course and eventually designed the course that was used in many bases.
But John didn’t let that go to his head. One time a general called, all steamed about some problem and said, “I want to talk to someone with a little authority.” John answered, “Well, I’ve got as little authority as anyone around here.” Few can say that they’ve heard a general laugh - but John can.
Those years in the service were hard on him and his family. He once told them how hard it was for him to leave them when he was called up to go to Korea. He said, “I hurt so much my stomach was all torn up.” He said, “I wanted so badly to jump off that bus and come home, but I couldn’t. I had to go.” I think he felt the same way about this deployment as well. He wanted so badly to stay with you guys, but he had to go.
No one loved his country more than John - he was a giant in that way.
John was a giant in his love for Jesus. Little did he know how momentous that day was when he boarded a bus and sat next to a man who was a Christian. John grew up as a renegade. He said he tried every drink and every vice there was. He once said that the only reason he never tried drugs was that they never heard of stuff like that in Bush.
But all that changed on that bus trip. That’s when John learned about his Creator. About his love for people and the sacrifice of his son, Jesus. And it was that conversation that started John on a life that would secure his eternity.
John became a Christian at the age of 30 - the same age when Jesus was baptized. He reminded everyone of that. And from that moment, John’s life forever changed. He laid down his old reputation and took up the challenge to become better. But he knew it wasn’t something he could accomplish. It was something God would accomplish through him.
It may be why John loved the song, “His Grace Reaches Me” so much. It was number 638 in our song books at church and every song leader could expect John to lean forward and request it at every service. We really threw him off by changing songbooks. It’s no longer 638, but for John, it was always his favorite and would be sure to bring a tear to his eyes.
For those of us who only knew him as preacher John, we may be curious as to why John would be so moved by this song. But to those who knew him as Jimmy, who knew his lifestyle, and his actions. To John who forever bore the memories of who he was and what God did for him, these words served as his anthem.
“Higher than the mountains, and brighter than the sun, it was offered at Calvary, for everyone. Greatest of treasures, and it’s mine today. Though my sins were as scarlet, He has washed them away.”
Just as the apostle Paul was driven to a committed faith because of the magnitude of his sins, John drew close to his Savior, knowing that it was only by the grace of God that he stand at the end of his life and look back in peace, and ahead in hope.
No one loved the Lord more than John - he was a giant in that way.
John was a giant in the way he loved being a preacher. John would often say that he graduated from the seminary of personal study. From the time he became a Christian, John was preparing for ministry. He may not have realized he would be a preacher in those early years, but he knew that if he was going to take this call to discipleship seriously, he would have to study, and grow. Part of that growth process led him to teach Bible classes.
I’d love to see the outline of one of those early studies. It was probably like many who are teaching for the first time–painstakingly researched, carefully crafted word by word, typed and rehearsed over and over again. It’s funny, but that’s how John would forever preach. He would pour over commentaries, write and rewrite his sermon word for word, and rehearse them all. He did this because he realized how important the message was and how unworthy he was to deliver it.
In an age before computers, John would type and retype, white out and write over his lesson until it was just right. And it always was. We could poll this audience for some personal favorites, but “One More Night With The Frogs” has to be his number one of all times. Early American preacher Jonathan Edwards may be famous for “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” but you haven’t heard real preaching until you hear “One More Night With The Frogs.”
Hundreds and hundreds of his sermons are carefully cataloged and filed away. He’s shared many with me, but I knew I couldn’t preach them. They were the results of his labor, and before this congregation, it would be plagiarism for me to use one. But I fed on them and they served as the spark for many of my sermons. Little did people know when they told me, “Now that’s a great sermon,” that it was great because it struck a cord of memory in their hearts.
But all preachers know that sermons are just one small part of what it means to be a preacher. John preached his share of funerals. He held the hands of those preparing for surgery. He prayed for families in crisis. He agonized over those who fell into sin. He rejoiced when new souls came to Christ, even when it cost him a golf game.
As the story goes, John was having his best round of golf ever. You’ll have to check with Harrison to see if that is really true. But somewhere down the front nine, Mike Gould came out to him in a golf cart with an urgent message. Dave and Doris Wells, after many hours of study, had decided to be baptized, and they wanted to do it right then.
That would have been a dilemma for a golfer, but for a preacher, it was an easy choice. The golf clubs got packed away and John headed to the church building. Al Jewell recently told him that John was having a record setting round until he put two in the water. I still think it was a record breaking day for him.
You may preach twice a week, but you minister twenty four hours a day, and John was truly a minister. A couple of times Betty had to call me in the dead of night to take John to the hospital. And every time I would come by, my hair matted from sleep, my clothes mismatched, John would apologize for imposing. He’d say, “I know what it’s like to have to get out of bed for something like this, and I’m sorry to make you do it.”
He championed a bus ministry and rallied the congregation around a Tuesday School program. He provided eighteen years of stability for a fledgling congregation who had no consistent leadership. And we are reaping the benefits of the foundation his ministry laid. Even in his later years, John still loved preaching. Betty wouldn’t let him get in the pulpit, but he never stopped asking her for the chance. But even from the pew, John would come to class with notes in hand, ready to give those pithy answers that hit the nail on the head.
Several years ago, I talked Betty into letting John co-teach a class with me. We didn’t tell her it was going to last two years! It covered Bible history from start to finish and although the handouts were printed in full color with photographs and charts to add some flash, the questions were word for word from John’s old series, copied off of hand typed pages that fed this congregation for years.
There’s a story of a great preacher who was driven from one speaking engagement to another by his student who served as his chauffeur. The student heard the same lessons time and time again and one night, as they approached a church building, the student said, “You know, I’ve heard you give this same lesson a hundred times. Even I could give it tonight.” So the preacher said, “Alright let’s see what happens.” They stopped the car and switched places, each pretending to be the other. And when they arrived, the church greeted the student and believed he was the great preacher. And sure enough, he did a great job, reciting the preacher’s lesson word for word, inflection for inflection. After the sermon, the host said, “Let’s take a few minutes for question and answers.” The first question was from the front row and it was a deep theological question about a troubling passage of Scripture. The student paused and thought about how he was going to answer, then he said, “That question is so easy that even my chauffeur could answer that.”
I was forever his student and there were many class sessions when I would look over to John and hope my chauffeur would step up and answer a tough question. And even when his years of preaching and teaching had ended, John was always in study. He read his Bible every day. He poured over commentaries. He would call me and ask, “what are we studying this Wednesday?” and he would prepare for it. I would often see a half filled note pad beside his chair, jotting down sermon ideas for lessons he would never preach.
It didn’t matter if he was retired, if he was no longer healthy enough to stand in the pulpit, even if he was restricted to his easy chair in the den. John was always and forever a preacher.
How do you measure the impact of eighteen years of ministry? John said that at first, he started keeping a record of the number of people he brought to Christ, but stopped for some reason many years ago. The number is unknown. The families grounded in faith, the children taught about David and his babbling brook, the prayers spoken, the classes taught, the number of people forever changed - only God knows, and maybe John now.
No one loved preaching more than John - he was a giant in that way.
John was a giant in the way he loved his church. When I first came up to try out at Herrin, John was on that first welcoming committee. Brenda and I stood outside the Best Western Motel beside the Williamson Country Airport and shook hands with a few people who came to meet us.
Al and Nola were also there that day. They all smiled and shook our hands. They asked us how was our trip and had we eaten yet. They wanted to know about our kids and our families. But John’s first question was, “What do you believe about inspiration?”
We were riding with the group in a car for a dessert fellowship and John is asking me about my view on the inspiration of Scripture. I first wondered, “Who is this guy and why can’t he wait to discuss these things until later, after we all got to know one another.” But I soon came to realize that John couldn’t wait, because the future of this congregation was too important to him. He knew they could find many who could smile and shake hands, but could they find a preacher to hold up the word of God? And I grew to appreciate his candor.
John was always up for a religious discussion, ready to give answers to my every question and sometimes, even when I didn’t ask a question. He talked about the future of this congregation as if he would see it all unfold, and in a way, he will.
When he was needed - he served. His organizational skills made him the perfect choice as our church treasurer and he did a meticulous job keeping books. If he could, he would have paid the bills before we received the statements. And although he often would joke that as treasurer, he helped Betty get new carpet and drapes in her living room, we all knew that with John in charge, we never had to worry about the financial health of this congregation. One night, as those in the business meeting were looking over the monthly budget, someone asked John, “Did you include your new car payment in this budget?” John said, “Yes I did, but you won’t be able to find it.”
He would often joke with me, saying, “When I was preaching, we didn’t have computers. When I was preaching, I didn’t get to take Sunday night off for a song service. When I was preaching, all these people didn’t get sick and die like this.” Of course, he knew that people always got sick and died, but I also knew that he was glad things were better for me than they may have been for him and that any blessing and benefits I enjoyed in ministry at Herrin was due to the foundation John laid in his many years of service to this congregation.
No one loved this church more than John - he was a giant that way.
John was a giant in the way he looked forward to this day. The casually religious may have been disturbed by the way John would talk about his own death. He would joke about it.
Alright, we have time for one more. A gravely ill man went to the doctor with his wife. After the examination, the doctor motioned for the wife to consult with him in the hallway. “Your husband is very sick,” said the doctor. “But there are three things you can do to ensure his survival. First fix him three healthful, delicious meals a day. Next, give him a stress free environment and don’t complain about anything. Finally, you need to satisfy his every desire.” On the drive home the husband asked, “What did the doctor say?” “I’m sorry,” she said, “but you’re not going to make it.”
John knew he wouldn’t make it. He’s known that for years, but when the doctor recently told him he has less than six months, John’s true faith began to shine. He would still joke about it. He told me the doctor said he had six months to live, but when John told him he couldn’t pay him in six months, the doctor gave him another six. That six month prognosis turned into less than six weeks, but John was prepared for this day.
He talked with all the grandchildren and shared his faith that beyond this realm waits the open arms of God, ready to welcome him in with the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant. . . come and share your master’s happiness.” (Matthew 25:21)
He talked with his friends and told them that he looked forward to what awaited him, because the words of Paul echoed in his head, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day. . .” (2 Timothy 4:7-8)
He talked with his children and told them that he was tired of pain and wasn’t scared of what awaited him, because Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” (John 14:1-3)
He talked with Betty and told her, as he had so many times before, that he’d be waiting for her just inside the gates of heaven. The same gates that the Bible describes as made of pearl opening onto streets of gold. (Revelation 21:21)
On Monday, as hospice was called in, he told me that his only fear was not knowing if his transition from this life to the next would be painful or prolonged. He loved this life and was confident about the next, but the transition- that concerned him.
But for his family and those of us who were witnesses to his last hours and minutes, for those who held him and prayed around him, for those who sang songs of praise, for those who saw his last breath and felt the last beat of his earthly heart –we know and testify today that the words of Paul are true. “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:54-57)
Thank you God for John Norville
A giant of a man who loved life with robust gusto.
A giant of a man who loved his family and cherished them with words and actions.
A giant of a man who loved his country and served her in time of war.
A giant of a man who loved the Lord and stood in awe of the God’s great mercy.
A giant of a man who loved his ministry and preached the word of God faithfully and compassionately.
A giant of a man who loved the church, and worked to secure her future in this town.
A giant of a man, who loved this day, and now is experiencing the great victory God promised him.
Today, a giant has not fallen - a giant has risen.
Thanks be to God! Who gave him the victory through the Lord Jesus Christ.
