“I have some sad news to share,” a subdued voice told me over the phone. “Harry Reeder died in a car accident this morning.”
That was the call I got from my friend yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just seen Harry two weeks ago at the Gospel Reformation Network conference here in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was going to see Harry again in a few weeks, if I didn’t talk to him before then, at the PCA General Assembly. How could this be true? Did this really happen? Is Harry really gone? That was my response, and it was the same response I got from members of my congregation as I shared with them the tragic news that their beloved former pastor had passed on to glory.
I suppose everyone is unique, but Harry truly was unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He was a powerful preacher—authoritative and gregarious, big in personality and passionate about the gospel, funny and blood earnest all at the same time. But he wasn’t just a gifted preacher and teacher. He was also an amazingly conscientious pastor—never forgetting a name, learning all he could about his flock, and constantly following up on church members. As everyone who knew Harry can attest, he seemed to possess indefatigable energy, not to mention a filing cabinet in his brain that could produce sermon outlines, the movements of Civil War regiments, and alliterative insights seemingly at will.
In many ways, Harry was a man’s man: strong, athletic, and confident. But he was also a family man. We should pray for his wife, Cindy, along with their three children—Jennifer, Ike, and Abby—and their many grandchildren. Harry will be greatly missed by thousands, but especially by his family. I’ll miss him as a Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) founding father, as a ministerial example, and as a friend.