Someone once remarked that a cynic is a person who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. Isn’t that an apt description of our time, when we will pay inflated prices for houses, we will spend $75.00 to fill up our SUV’s, and will hire basketball coaches for forty million dollars only to buy out the contract? So many of us are aware of the price of everything, but know the value of nothing.
Yet, at the same time, there are those who live by another standard. There are those who have seen another set of values. And not only do they live by those values, they find joy and satisfaction in them, and ultimately, they find eternity.
Buford Pervall was not only a mainstay of this community, a loving husband and father and grandfather, a deacon of this church, and at one time its clerk. He was also an usher here. His station was right here, at this door that leads to and from the parlor, not six feet from where I stand right now. Sunday after Sunday he would stand here, greeting worshipers, offering programs, helping people find a seat. And it is in that role that I remember something that has become an icon for how I think of Buford and what mattered to him.
One year we decided to dress down for worship as the summer began. The deacons announced to the congregation that for a month we were going to experiment with casual dress. We said that everybody should feel comfortable and should not find it necessary to be a fashion plate on Sunday mornings in the heat of summer.
And so all of us began to calculate just how dressed-down we would be. Some of the ladies switched from dresses to slacks, and some went to designer jeans or track suits. Just about all of the men got rid of suit jackets and those ridiculous nooses we drape around our necks. But the discussions and the calculations went on; just how dressed down did we really want to be? As pastor, I decided that I could do without the robe, and that I would join my brothers in being coatless and tieless, but that the pulpit carried with it a certain dignity. So I would still wear dress shoes, good slacks, and a long-sleeve white shirt. No self-respecting preacher would appear in anything less. (I’m not quite like a friend of mine in another denomination who was described as having been born wearing a clerical collar, but I’m not far from it!) Truth to tell, most of the church members were in that same camp; we set aside the unnecessary and really uncomfortable garb, but we did want to be middle-class and respectable. No cut-offs showed up, no short shorts (although I do remember seeing more of one deacon’s knees than I really wanted to). We were sort of hesitant how much to dress down for worship.
Except for usher Buford Pervall. When I came through this door to start the service, in my dress shoes, good slacks, and preacherly white shirt, I saw this fellow in a baggy open-necked shirt, wrinkled khaki pants, and the biggest, baddest pair of running shoes I had ever seen! Buford was spectacularly dressed down. We looked one another over very carefully before I proceeded to the pulpit; and he said, “I think I may have gone too far.”
After the service he approached me and said the same thing, but I assured him that it did not matter, and that really he had taken more seriously than the rest of us what the deacons intended to do. I did my best to reassure him that he had not offended. But, to tell the truth, because he had seemed so shaken by the contrast between the two of us, I really expected that the next Sunday I would see him in something different – maybe even in one of those deaconly black suits. I suspected he would back down from his comfort clothes and fit in with those of us who were having a hard time being casual.
But came next Sunday, we lined up for worship in the usual way. I opened this door, once again wearing my uniform of dress shoes, good slacks, and a long-sleeve white shirt, and before me stood Buford Pervall, in – are you ready? – that very baggy open-necked shirt, those still-wrinkled khaki pants, and that same biggest, baddest pair of running shoes! And as he gave me a copy of the day’s bulletin, he whispered, “If it’s okay with you and the Lord, then I guess I’m not going to worry about what I wear.”
And that, brothers and sisters, tells me all I need to know about what Buford Pervall valued, about how he lived his life, and about his eternity. For over against an age when we know the price of everything and the value of nothing, here is a man who had heard the Lord Jesus say,
“I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? ... Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”
Buford Pervall had learned that he was of great value to God, and that was all that mattered. “If it’s okay with you and the Lord, then ... I’m not going to worry”. All else was incidental. All else was peripheral. If you know your own value, all else will fall into place.
I
For example, if you know your own value, you will not be anxious. If you know that you are a child of God and that you matter to the Almighty, you can believe that you will be cared for and will not fall prey to disappointment and defeat. The Lord Jesus teaches us to trust Him in all things, beginning with the most basic, like food and shelter and clothing. And when we get that right, then we can learn to trust Him for the larger things and not be consumed with anxiety.
Buford Pervall faced some disappointing moments in his life. I remember having several conversations with him as he moved into retirement. I’ve said this to the Takoma Park congregation before, but I’ll say it again: it is not easy for men to retire. Our culture socializes men to find their worth in their work, and so when you no longer work you begin to develop feelings that suggest you no longer have value. Those of you who are aware of how many things I’ve gotten involved in since retiring from here two years ago know that it has not been an altogether comfortable transition for me either. Men get disoriented by retirement. Buford was, for a while, no exception; he would stop by and just talk about what he was going to do with his time and whether he would be able to find meaning in the later years of his life. But he also began to find new opportunities to serve his church, new ways to invest in the needs of others; he began to strive first for the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and the rest fell into place. If you know your own value, you will not be forever anxious. If you trust God for small things like clothing, you will learn to trust Him for the larger things too.
And then there was the loss of Gary, just a few years ago. To lose a son is devastating. To lose a son when one is also beginning to fail because of Alzheimer’s must be especially difficult. During that terrible time, Buford often looked dazed and uncertain. But as the day came when we said farewell to Gary, I saw Buford beginning to find hope. I saw him beginning anew to trust God. I heard Brother Pervall say something like, “I know Gary is in a better place. I know he is in the Lord’s hands. I know ... I know.” Did you hear that? Not, “I think”. Not, “I guess”. Certainly not, “I wonder”. But, “I know”. Even with a mind impaired by disease, he could say, “I know.”
What I really understood him to be saying is that when you know that you and yours are of value to God, and when you have learned to trust God in the little things like food and shelter and clothing, then you can trust Him in the larger things as well. I heard Buford believing again the truth of what Jesus taught us,
“Look at the birds of the air ... Your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”
If you know your own value before God, you will not be anxious. You will be able to endure the tough times.
II
But there is a positive side to this equation as well. It is not only what you can survive; it is also what you can do, in a positive way, once you know who you are and that God values you. It is not only about avoiding anxiety; it is also about working for goals that matter. It is about taking positive steps to make a difference.
Jesus talked of striving first for the Kingdom of God and His righteousness – giving priority to God and God’s righteousness. Righteousness is not a negative thing, it’s not just about keeping away from alcohol and watching your language and not beating up on your family. Righteousness is about caring for justice. Righteousness is about attending to the needs of all of God’s children. Seeking God’s righteousness is about getting in tune with what God is doing in the world. Righteousness is not only about avoiding all the wrong things; it is also about affirming and working for all the right things.
Seeking God’s righteousness drove the Pervall family to move out of segregated Virginia, hoping to find a more fulfilling life for the children. Seeking God’s righteousness brought hard-working people like Buford and Lorraine to provide special privileges for their children and generous gifts for their grandchildren.
And more. To serve as a deacon in this church does not mean that you are put on a board of directors. It does not mean that you sit in some smoke-filled room and figure out ways to torture the pastor. To serve as a deacon in this church means that you are available for the last, the least, the lost, and the lonely. For Deacon Pervall, that meant that he and his car were available for others, for hospital visits and pharmacy pickups. For Deacon Pervall, that meant that in times of bereavement, he would be at your right hand, helping with all the tasks to be done. For one who had learned to seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, to serve as a deacon meant to be present when others needed him, but then to say so little about it that most of us did not know the full extent of his ministry.
You see, here it is again. A man who knows who he is, who knows his own value before God, has no need to trumpet his accomplishments or to brag about his achievements. He is not clothed in pride or fed by praise. He has trusted God; he has dismissed anxiety, and he has embraced service and righteousness, quietly and calmly, because he knows. He simply knows. “If it’s okay with the Lord ... I won’t worry.” And all else falls into place.
III
And so today we say farewell to one who was, like his Lord, among us as one who served. We say farewell and bid godspeed to one who may have known the price of many things, but who did not count the cost; and, at the same time, who knew the value of everything because he knew his own value before God. We say farewell and thank God for the example of Buford Pervall, dismissing anxiety and seeking the Kingdom of God and God’s righteousness above all things.
For in the end, none of us has anything to offer God. None of us has wealth enough to pay the debt that we owe. None of us has goodness enough to erase all our mistakes or outweigh all our faults. None of us has anything to offer God except our trust in Him. None of us has any right to hope for anything except that God values us.
At the very heart of our faith there is a cross, and that cross tells us that God so loved the world – nay, that God so loved Buford Curtis Pervall that God sent His only Son to die, so that Buford and you and you and you and I might be saved. It is not because we work hard, it is not because we go to church, it is not because we are middle-class and educated, and it is certainly not because we know how to dress up and look good that we inherit eternity. It is only that we are “dressed in His righteousness alone” that we become “faultless to stand before the throne.”
Remember Buford’s legacy: “If it’s okay with you and the Lord, then I’m not going to worry.” It’s okay. It IS okay. For, my brother, this day we do not see your baggy open-neck shirt, nor your wrinkled khakis, nor your big, bad shoes. Nor do we see your proper deacon suit. We see you dressed in His righteousness alone, and know that in Him you are faultless to stand before the throne.
