Early this morning Gordon Thomas slipped away from this life, his three year-long battle with melanoma coming to a peaceful end. We who remain behind are bereft.

My friend is gone. We first met twenty-five years ago, when I arrived with my family in Manchester. Our sense of kinship of spirit was virtually instantaneous. He became ‘a friend as close as a brother’ to me. In those early days, when I was his pastor, he helped me understand the new world that I had come to, so far from home and family; our times together for conversation and prayer provided space to gain perspective.

He went to Swaziland for three years, I went to Switzerland and beyond for seven years. We wrote letters in the days before email. We wrote emails. We met up at various times in between, and there was never any need of time to ‘warm up’ the relationship again. We were always able to start again at the personal and caring level of discourse. (If the word ‘intimacy’ had not been hi-jacked in common usage to refer only to sexual relationships it would help to describe what I am trying to say.) For the past nine years we have been colleagues in the same college, teaching together. We have taught classes together, and we have developed courses together so that students got the same ‘stuff’ no matter which of us was teaching. We shared much.

Gordon was a teacher. In that simple sentence is the definition of ‘teacher’. He grasped his subject matter thoroughly, which is important. But, he could offer it to his students in a way that invited them not only to desire to know more, but to value what they learned. For my part, I have always grasped my subject matter, too; but sharing its value to students has not always been my strong suit. It was Gordon’s determined offer to be my mentor in my first part-time year of teaching that gave me the opportunity to be a teacher, and that helped me learn what it was I aspired to do. If I, too, am a teacher, it is thanks to Gordon.

The trial of friendship is adversity. Gordon was with me in the midst of a very dark time in my life. At a critical moment of my need, when I felt most alone and isolated, Gordon sought me out. It was not a time to talk—it was a time when having a friend beside me was just what was needed. He sensed the need of that moment, and he was there.

A few years ago we found ourselves on opposite sides of opinion in the handling of a serious student matter that came before the Faculty. It was a painful period at a variety of levels: for the student, for the faculty, for the wider church communities of which we were a part. There was no easy answer to the differences of viewpoint or to the search for resolution. Gordon and I did not gloss over our differences, as if to pretend they did not exist. But, from time-to-time one or the other of us would say, ‘Let’s get together and talk.’ And so we would. Long years of knowing and trusting each other set the ground for us to seek understanding of each other even when we could not agree; and, if not complete understanding, then acceptance. The process was not without pain; nor was it without love. But, always, prayer together. And commitment to each other.

And now, the tale of his years is cut short. Gordon was a dreamer of dreams--many of which came to reality. Nor would they have become a reality had he not dreamed them! To the very end we spoke together of dreams yet to be fulfilled. They will not be fulfilled by Gordon, but they may yet come to be by those of us who remain behind. He leaves no unfinished business behind.

Gordon was a Christian. Here, too, the sentence is defined by his life, which cannot be told apart from his faith in the God and Father of Jesus Christ. He lived in devotion to his Lord; he died in calm and trusting faith in that same Lord. Today, pain behind him, he is with his Lord.
I grieve the loss of my friend, who gave me far more than I ever gave him. And I give thanks for having such a friend.