Sermon/Eulogy for Dwight D. Albers (from Thursday, January 30th, 2020)

Psalm 27:1, 4-9

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

One thing I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock. Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the Lord. Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! "Come," my heart says, "seek his face!" Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation!

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Sermon/Eulogy

So, I want to start by telling about the drive home from my Dad’s ordination worship service.  I was in the back of the car, reflecting on the holy laying on of hands that pastors receive toward the end of the worship service.  Actually, I was reflecting on how my Dad definitely was not the most holy of men.  

I blurted out, “Now that you are ordained, do you feel more holy?” 

It was not an honest question.  It was sarcasm dripping from a self-righteous young adult. 

But, my Dad’s answer was straightforward, “No, there is nothing different.  You don’t have to be holy to talk about Jesus.” 

And, that was the beginning of the ministry of the “Irreverent Reverend.” 

Dwight David Albers,

born in Minnesota,

one of three sons,

reared on a farm,

rejecter of going hunting but embracer of fishing,

whisperer of pigs…or more accurately, shouter of hogs,

beloved husband of Sharon and very tired father of three boys, Marcus, Daniel, and myself,

hater of British accents…unless uttered by the lips of 007,

lover of the TV show MASH,

constant sharer of every single thing that floated to him on Facebook,

the Dad that we loved with our whole hearts,

that man was the “Irreverent Reverend.”

He was the Reverend that would be happy to hear a joke in church that was “not ready for church.” 

He was the Reverend who thought that farting in the church office was hilarious.  Oh, you too?  Well, he would have been a great pastor to you.  

But, he was also the pastor who would drive hours on the interstate with a bag of home dialysis solution on his head and the other bag on the floor draining the old fluid because he wanted to make sure that you knew you were loved by God, even if you were stuck in the hospital. 

He cared. 

Yes, he was irreverent, but if I had to choose one thing that Dad cared about as a pastor and a person that reflected Jesus, I would say that it was his passion for the forgiveness of the sinner and his attention to the despised. 

Whether if it was church leaders questioning the worthiness of a Sunday School teacher because of the person’s checkered past or if it was people who were excluded because they hung out with the “wrong people,” Dad had a passion for those beloved people of God.  If Jesus would heal them, they were good enough for him.  If Jesus would forgive them they were good enough for him.  Dad could have a temper, as us boys knew well as children (Don’t worry, he wasn’t mean, we deserved it), but we would see that temper flare again in adulthood if an injustice occurred or an exclusion was thrust upon any of the children who Jesus loves and forgives.

Speaking of his passion for justice, I always thought that Dad would have been a great Associate of the Bishop.  Dad seemed to make it his mission to check in and support the other pastors around him.  But, unlike the diplomacy that people in these positions usually have (and rightly so), Dad had no problem sharing in the anger toward those in the church who were giving any particular pastor a problem.  He had no reservations in listening, sharing some inappropriate words, and caring for those who are abused by the self-righteous. 

After-all, Dad was not self-righteous, he was fully a sinner who needed the salvation of Jesus Christ.  And, that is exactly what this irreverent reverend has now found: eternal life in God’s hands of grace.

And, I am painfully missing this faulty, irreverent servant of God.  We all are. 

I miss his phone calls from the car while Mom sings in the choir. 

I miss his concern for our struggles. 

I miss the guy who refused to complain when one of the grandkids gave him a “shot” with their toy syringe, and stabbed hard enough to actually break the skin. 

I miss the songs that he would sing in the car.  “Round the corner we go, round the corner we go, high ho the dairy-o, round the corner we go.”  Everyone join in! 

No, you do not have to join in. 

(To the grandkids)  Did you know that song came from Grandpa? 

And, then there was the ever popular: “Red light, red light, red light, red light, Dairy Queen.”  Because, of course, we were at a red light and there was a Dairy Queen. 

Marcus loved those songs.  I am joking; he did not love those songs. 

I miss how understanding he was of my struggle with algebra in the ninth grade, because he also was struggling with Algebra at the same time in his own college class. 

Did I mention that he went back to school late in life?  He did, moving from pig farming to the ministry.  There might be some prodigal son story going on there, but I will let you fill in those biblical details. 

While you do that, I will be right here, missing the man who would take the family on bike rides because it was a nice day to be out and because it was time to say “Hi” to friends around town. 

I miss hearing Buffy, Shmoo, and Weenie.  I will not explain; that one is for us. 

I just miss him.  And, I know you do also. 

I am not going to mention all the illness throughout his life, because that rarely defined him.

No, he was the irreverent reverend. 

He was the great friend to those he knew. 

He was the proud father (proud of Marcus’ computing career and singing, Daniel’s distinguished service in the military, and presumably myself), and he was a proud grandfather. 

He was the loving husband. 

And, he was also a kind of pretty good woodworker.  He made shelves and cat houses and tables and bed headboards.  And, they were all kind of pretty good.  He was pretty good at it, but not perfect. 

And, that is who he was, as a man and as a pastor.  He was pretty good, but not perfect.

He was fully a flawed human who has now been made whole, through the grace of Jesus Christ our Lord.  And, he would want you to know that you are too, because that was his faith.  That was the essence of life in Christ Jesus that he understood very well.

And, because of that we will forever trust in the words of Psalm 27, “The Lord is my light and my salvation.”  It is in the Lord we trust, especially on a day such as today.