Cool Water

I’ve had the opportunity to spend some time traveling with my eldest son this summer, culminating in our sharing a common birthday today in Texas, turning forty-three and fourteen, respectively. Just now we’re in Texas with a bunch of Baptist pastors and an ample supply of hot air! And while I recognize that these two often share a saddle, I am concerned here with the extreme heat that is the American Southwest, as opposed to the parched prairie prevalent in Protestant preacher-dom. Earlier in the week we were in Santa Fe with my folks and had the opportunity to hike around Tent Rocks National Monument. As my Dad, my son, and I made our way toward the end of the dusty, uphill trail with a vista surveying all the Tent Rocks, the sun was beginning to break through and the cool of morning was quickly turning to the heat of the day. As we hiked on and my thirst intensified, I kept hearing in my mind the chorus of the old Sons of the Pioneers song “Cool Water.” I’ve been asked a number of times, “What is it you’d like for your birthday this year?” While at each repetition of this question I have feigned a non-response, I must confess that I have been something less than forthcoming. Truth told, I know with absolute certainty what I’d desire if I thought it were mine for the asking. But I know what I want cannot be purchased, nor can it be acquired by any action on my part. I have two brothers and as my grandmother used to say about those for whom she cared deeply, “they’re just good people, hon.” While I love them both, am proud of both, and would give anything I have for both, I cannot provide for the one what he needs. He wrestles alcohol addiction and no one can change that for him. Hell, I’m beginning to wonder if he can change it for himself. But if birthday wishes were fairy tales, I’d close my eyes and wish for his sobriety. With considerable care I have mulled these last few weeks what it must be for him to state publicly “I will not drink alcohol anymore.” And while I cannot know the demons he wrestles, the thought of laying the bottle aside is daunting even to me. For it is part of my vernacular. It is part of fun and frivolity, fellowship and friends. But in the interest of my brother’s health and out of deep loving care for him, having another drink of alcohol for me is a price too steep and one I will not pay. Hear me clear . . . if you want to go out and have a drink, I’ll be happy to go. But I’ll be drinking water. And I’ll not judge you or anyone else who wishes to have a drink of alcohol as I find it neither evil nor sinful in any sense. What I do find is it’s insidious grasp on my own brother’s life. And while I cannot offer him sobriety, I can offer him solidarity. It’s the power of water that has occupied my mind as we have journeyed these last few days. And it is in water that I hope to find salvation in the days ahead. Water. Seemingly not enough of it clean enough to share the world around, yet here where it is mine in abundance I never seem to consume enough. So if I beat you to the bar tonight and when you arrive you see me in the corner smiling, just know what I am sipping is water. And the smile is due to my singing in my mind some paraphrased version of that old song . . . “All day I face the barren waste without the taste of water. Cool water. Old Brad and I with throats burned dry and souls that cry for water. Cool water. The shadows sway and seem to say tonight we pray for water. Cool water. And way up there He’ll hear our prayer and show us where there’s water. Cool water.” For Brad and for me. May it be so, Lord. May it be so.

Thomas E. Corts: In Memoriam

Dr. Thomas E. Corts was the kind of man I wish I were. Even thinking that makes me realize just how far from reality the likelihood of that could ever be and how rare an individual he really was.

Tom Corts was a believer. He believed in God and lived by God’s commands as closely as anyone I have ever known. He was a student of the Bible and its principles, and he sought to live his life in accordance with those principles. His was a faith that informed and affected his every action, yet always provided grace and room for others who held different opinions. He was sure in his faith without being so assured that he encroached on the faith of others. As far as trust in God and the transformative power of Jesus on a life, Tom Corts was a believer.

Tom Corts was a healer. Even when those with whom he disagreed theologically or politically had no room for his opinion, his heart yearned and his mind searched for a way to heal whatever breach existed. This trait was never more evident than when he guided Samford University through the turbulent waters of denominational schism.

For years after Samford’s move to secure its own future by electing its own trustees, he proved his intention to strengthen the relationship that existed between Samford and the Alabama Baptist State Convention by working closely with the convention and its committees. He lived the truth in the axiom that “there is no virtue in sustained denunciation.” He continued to work with Alabama Baptists--and especially with those Alabama Baptists who disagreed with some of his decisions--to heal every breach until his retirement from the presidency of Samford in 2006. In every way, Tom Corts was a healer.

Tom Corts was a servant. He took on the role of servant with the ease of someone slipping into a comfortable chair at the end of the day. Countless times I watched as people awed at his caring for the slightest detail in a situation, as he inquired quietly of a colleague’s family member who was dealing with a health concern, or as he comforted those who were grieving. I remember, too, the way folks would leave a lunch meeting with Dr. Corts at Samford, stunned that he had left his seat to serve them coffee at the end of the meal. He never seemed to do this for show. Rather, he saw that they needed to be served and would move to do whatever he could do. In his heart, Tom Corts was a servant.

Tom Corts was a mentor. He gave me and so many other people the opportunity to get a start. And then after we got started and were on our way, he continued to guide us with care without trying to dictate which way we should go. He loved education, he loved the search for truth, and he loved nurturing people along the way. His way was to encourage and hope, and in his nature Tom Corts was a mentor.

Since hearing the news of Dr. Corts’ passing on Wednesday, I have tried hard to console myself with religious platitudes and reassurances of the faith. But what I keep hearing is Willie Nelson singing Bob Dylan’s lyrics: “Every time I think of him, I just can’t keep from cryin’, ‘cause he was a friend of mine.”

Tom Corts was a believer. He was a healer, a servant and a mentor. And God how the world needs more like him.

Lord, help me honor the memory of Dr. Thomas E. Corts by trying to be the kind of man I wish I were.