Spiritual Mentors

Have I told you about Gid Yoder?
In my quest to not be like my father, I found myself watching other adult men and saying, “I want to be like him when I grow up.” Or, in some cases, “I don’t want to be like him when I grow up.”
This practice continued well into my fifties.
Gid taught Bible in the Academy (high school) division at Hesston College. He was about 5 feet 6 inches tall and probably weighed over 250. He was bald, wore thick glasses and had a high, squeeky voice. Among us college students, Gid was a joke.
God has had a way of putting unlikely people in my path to bless me. I’ve been blessed with plenty of “beautiful people,” but the biggest blessings have come from the unlikely ones.
I know what you’re thinking — “you mean unlikely like Moses or David or Samuel or Rahab?” Yep, just like them. Which gives me hope about my prospects, since I don’t identify myself as one of the beautiful people.
In the summer of 1960, before my sophomore year, I got a long-distance (gasp) phone call from Gid. He asked if I wanted to be the choir director at his little Mennonite church in Burrton, about 40 miles from Hesston. Of course I did.
I served that church for four years, and I watched Gid. He was a great pastor and a great preacher, combining the prophetic and the pastoral, blending good Bible teaching with his own wisdom. A pastor who followed Gid in another church said, “Gid plowed a deep furrow.” He had a gift for taking dysfunctional churches and growing them into healthy churches. Burrton had been one of those churches; it was thriving and happy by the time I got there.
I rode with Gid to Burrton twice a week for those four years and we had many good conversations. It was while I was serving with Gid that I felt the tug towards ministry. When I told Gid about it, he said, “you’ll have to work on your people skills, Randy.” True enough.
Gid did our wedding in 1965. He asked me what I wanted him to preach on. I told him to talk about the Biblical basis for marriage. You could tell he worked hard on his assignment. His sermon was full of scripture and he talked about each passage.
It wasn’t his best sermon, but I was impressed by the love and care he showed in this undertaking.
Gid never achieved financial security. He died of a heart attack while working to repair a house he and Stella had just bought. It was a hot Kansas night when it happened, and he hadn’t lost any weight.
Gid went to work at his churches for part-time wages; by the time he left, the churches hired full-time pastors.
Gid was not a success, financially or professionally. But Gid gave me, and I’m sure countless others, priceless gifts of wisdom, hope and laughter.
I have been blessed with many male role models over my life. Gid was the first. I thank God for him, and for all the others.