This is Cantrell Johnson. I’m proud to say he has been my neighbor for almost 23 years.
He is a part-time pastor. He supports his family doing odd jobs. He used to tile floors. These days he often mows lawns.
Rev. Johnson doesn’t just preach about Jesus. He tries to live as Jesus did. He takes care of people quietly, without fanfare. He wants no credit. He demands no help.
He’d be embarrassed to know you are reading this.
At 66 he is thankful for everything he has. He is thankful for his family, for his neighbors, for his God, for his health. That health is not all it could be. He is diabetic, he has trouble with his eyes and had to lose a lot of weight. But thanks for what one has should not imply anger or resentment over what one doesn’t have. Rev. Johnson taught me that.
Some years ago one of Rev. Johnson’s sons suffered the first in a series of strokes. The last ones left him in a very bad way. The son is now dependent on oxygen, and lives in a wheelchair, in his father’s house. Rev. Johnson’s son is dieing before his eyes and there is nothing he can do about it.
Did I mention that Rev. Johnson’s daughter is divorced? She is, sadly. She lives with him, and works hard, selling things. Her three sons also live in the house. It is a very crowded house, a very crowded life. With sadness that would kill lesser men, would kill me were I burdened with it.
But God only gives us the pains we can bear, and Rev. Johnson is a strong, strong man. He is the happiest man I have ever known.
Want to know how Rev. Johnson reacted to this latest pain in his life?
Here is how he reacted.
This is a ramp, with a turn in it, which he built over the last two days. The ramp leads from the front door to the driveway, so his son can be taken by car wherever he needs to go.
Rev. Johnson’s other son, who is a preacher like his dad, helped a bit with the ramp. Rev. Johnson’s wife helped a bit. But 99% of this work is his — the design, the details, the construction, everything. He eyeballed it, using a string. He put down the footers, he put in the joists, and he decked it. I walked on it a little while ago.
It’s more solid than my own house.
I told him, "Rev. Johnson, my son and I have decided that if we’re ever sick we want you to be our daddy."
He took it as a joke. But I meant it.
I don’t know whether there is a literal heaven or hell, with a literal God who looks like us and talks like us. But if there is, I do believe he’s more like Rev. Johnson than anyone I’ve ever met.
What can you do with this story? Don’t just pass it on. Meet your neighbors, talk to them, learn about them, listen to their life stories. My guess is there is someone like Rev. Johnson in your neighborhood. Try to be like them, and don’t beat yourself up if you don’t measure up.
Rev. Johnson doesn’t beat me up. He smiles when I come by. He says "Hi, neighbor!" He means it. Even though I know I don’t measure up.
But I’m trying.
