Hal Fogarty

Hal Fogarty died yesterday.

Most of you never knew him, but all of you should have. Hal was a man who was committed to seeking the heart and mind of Christ. After a bad run-in with the gnarly beast of church politics in the his 20's he lingered on the outskirts of the institutional church for the next thirty years, preserving his families steadfast commitment to the way of Christ through their home life. This is where I met him, on the outskirts of our church four years ago, bouncing in and out on Sundays with very little relational contact, save a few close friends from his childhood who attend the Naz.

When I really met him was about a year ago, when we discovered that we had a common desire for true Christian community and common distaste for what we had been raised to believe that was (not to mention our similar disliking for Constantine and things of that nature ;-) ) When we began to gather at Fuzzy's Hal was our sole older presence for a while. We turned to him for year-worn wisdom that was based in Scripture written on his heart. I often would listen to Hal and think that he had hidden more Scripture in the usable part of his heart and mind than anyone I knew. It flowed from his lips as you spoke. There was always a word of instruction, encouragement or praise on his lips that came straight from God's Word. He lived his life on that word alone, in a way I have seen few others approach.

Cancer came chasing him a year ago, but it only chased him further into the arms of his Abba. It set him on fire for his God and in pursuit of community that he knew he ought to be a part of. God's hand touched him and after a Cleveland Clinic visit the cancer receded. A little over a month ago we discovered it was back, and that this time it was worse than before. Following an intense time of prayer one morning the 10-15 of us in that room knew that Hal had decided either God would heal him or no one would. It would take a miracle if he revisite the clinic and it would take a miracle if he stayed home. He elected to live by the faith he wore on his sleeve and trust the divine hand of the Father. I felt he simply knew he was ready and that God was ready to take him home. There was a peace about him. A release.

It's still difficult. It is difficult because I didn't talk to him the past two weeks. It is difficult because I didn't get to say goodbye. It is difficult because I can still hear his voice. It is difficult because I can still hear his voice mail telling me he wasn't going to the Clinic in the morning. It is difficult because I can still hear his fingers plucking the strings on his acoustic guitar bringing life to songs that were waiting in Scripture for him to put music to. It is difficult because this is the third significant person in my life that I have lost in the past 8 months (Grandma, Jimmy and Hal). It is difficult, and yet somehow joyous according to our faith. I know this to be true with my mind, but I will have to let my heart catch up on that one, because joy seems far from me tonight.