Some of the last words of the great English architect Sir Christopher Wren were: “If you would see my monuments look around you.” He designed at least 53 churches in London alone. Including the great St. Paul’s Cathedral. John Welter would never have used those words about himself. He never called attention to himself. But we can and we do. Look around this church and this community and everywhere we see his monuments. Even though John’s friends cannot be with us today—his name is carved on our hearts.
Monuments. First—his family. His wives and kids. Helen and Molly. And his companion in crime, Mary Dean. And his children and Molly’s kids that became his. Steven and Lynn and Karen and Johnsie and Hank and Chris and Mary Fran. And 15 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren.
We first planned for all the kids to tell Daddy stories about how they loved their Papa. But guess what? This service would have lasted all day and the internet would probably have cut us off. And John in that slow wonderful Southern drawl would have said:”Why did you all say all that stuff?”
Monuments. When our church built the first Habitat house in Pickens County I don’t think we would have pulled it off with John. And he got hooked and kept working on Habitat houses and then houses for Salt and Light. Steven has already told us about John’s church and community work. Bible schools and soup kitchens PTA and PTA and PTA. He cooked a zillion barbecue chickens for all kinds of causes. But probably of all his helping work he loved his mission trips to Honduras those 20 years.
Monuments. Church and church and church. His fingerprints are all over this place still. I can see him sitting down there on that second row with his kids Sunday after Sunday. Nancy Prichard, a huge John fan told me one day that after Helen died John would come to church with Steven who was 18… Lynn who was 16…Karen who was 14…Johnsie who was11…and Hank who was 7. And Nancy said she would look down that row of John and his kids with no Mama and it would break her heart. But then she added but he got up and did what he had to do.
.
The church honored him as a Life Deacon for all his good work and his faithfulness and that tribute made him very proud. He went up to Boone for 20 years in December to haul back a 15-20 foot Christmas tree for this sanctuary. And just recently the church honored him with an Angel topper on the top of the tree. We could go on and on and talk about all he did. Which was a lot.
Years ago there was a great Editor of The New Yorker Magazine. And after so many years of faithful service somebody wrote of the man: “He just kept going like a bullet-torn battle flag and nobody captured his colors and nobody silenced his drums.” Sounds familiar doesn’t it. He did what he had to do.
Steven called me one day and said we’ve been going through Dad’s papers and we found this letter you wrote John after Molly died. I was living in Birmingham and was not able to come to Molly’s service. But I wrote John this letter. I began by saying: “When my Mother died quite suddenly in 1988 I heard the doorbell ring at my parent’s house in Columbus Georgia. And there stood John Welter and Henry Perkins and with them was Tom Hall who would have my Mother’s service. They had come all the way from Clemson and Americus to stand with me and my family. I have never forgotten that morning.”
I also added: “John, I remember when you and Molly ran off and got married. I loved it. You ran off like two teenagers and you didn’t want to make a fuss—you just wanted to get married. And you did and I remember how very happy you all were for those 26 years.” That too was a monument.
I told Steven we couldn’t have a long service even though we could be here all day telling John Welter stories. And here I am talking too long.
But I would close by reminding you that the things that kept John going was his incredible faith. Never bragged or pious. Never boisterous. He just did it. And friends, this is one of the enormous gifts he has left for his family sitting here and all of us. So remember where his family sits in this church he loved—with this cross always as our centerpiece. Reminding them and us Sunday after Sunday that Jesus promised, “I will be with you always.” Reminding them and us that in the end our hearts need not be troubled because he is always with us all. Reminding them and us that as the Apostle said: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, off persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?…No, in all these things—listen—in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, not angels, nor rulers, northing present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
We have looked around today at some of John Welter’s monuments and we thank God even in our sadness for this good man who touched us all.
I love that stanza of “For All the Saints.”
“And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again and faith grows strong.
Alleluia! Alleluia!”
“And now may the peace that passes all understanding and the love that will not let us go…rest and abide with us forever.”
(John Welter died March 23, 2020. The family was waiting until the Coronavirus subsided to have his funeral. The pandemic continues to this day. So family only met at the church he loved, First Baptist Clemson on August 29, 2020.The community could tap in to his service at the web site of the First Baptist, Clemson. It is still available. John was 89 years old when he died. The Pastor Rusty Brock and I had his service.)
--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com
