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H. Richard Hall, April 6, 1920 - January 14, 2002 |
Tribute by Pat Hayes
January 19, 2002
When I was a boy my father used to read to me the stories of England's legendary king, Arthur of Camelot, and his knights of the round table.
Arthur was a warrior king who commissioned his knights on quests for the "Holy Grail" and other errands of adventure and exploit. These knights, Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, Sir Lancelot, and others, peopled my childish imagination. Like many boys, I dreamed of being one of them.
When I was seventeen my fortune and fate brought me into the company of H. Richard Hall, a most amazing man. In his service and tutelage, I found myself living out my childhood fantasy. His extraordinary and visionary organization, United Christian Ministerial Association, was Camelot. Mike Shreve, Don Warren, Kent Sullivan, Craig Strain, myself, and many, many others became knights errant. The team of evangelists were a table round, and Brother Hall was our king. His vision was our heart and goal.
Life in these circumstances was a continual astonishment. Brother Hall was a continual astonishment.
For Brother Hall was an anachronism, a man apart from his own time, like a figure from some bygone century. His voice spoke to us as though from out of the distant past; his values were ancient ones; and his purposes were primeval mandates stricken with the scope and perspective of eternity.
Brother Hall completely filled any room he ever stepped into. His outlandish black hair, his tall authority, his hypnotic dark gaze, and his mystic voice commanded the attention of any and all who happened to be near him. It was impossible for him to be lost in a crowd or to go unnoticed.
In him, we felt connected to legend and history. In him, we were driven toward destiny and the future. We sat before him as though before King Solomon. We fought battles alongside of him as though we rode with King David. We walked in his companionship as the disciples must have walked with Christ. One regarded him as an individual in the New Testament must have regarded Christ, in that one felt always compelled to make a decision to accept or reject him, but could never remain passive or indifferent towards him.
H. Richard Hall was an enthralling presence, a maker of history, a fulfiller of history and of prophecy, a prophet of the future, an interpreter of the present, and a link to the legendary past. He was, himself, a living legend, and stories about him will become the stuff of legend.
Like Washington, he fathered a country. Like Caesar Augustus, he found Rome brick and left it marble. Like Saint Paul, he made quantum-leap perceptions and articulated them into a wide and lasting ideology. Like Lincoln, he now belongs to the ages.
Perhaps he was our Robin Hood, and we his merry men. Maybe he was our David, and we his champions and mighty men. If he was our Samuel, then we are all his anointed kings, and history will determine if we were worthy of him.
When will the world again see his like? It is certain that there will never be another Brother Hall. Yet he fulfilled in each of us the first principle of discipleship. That is the principle that a master must duplicate himself in his disciples. Childishly, we imitated him. We repeated his words and emulated his mannerisms. Maturing, we embraced his dream, each of us discarding our own. We sought to live his life, to become him in much that we did and were. He captivated us in his lifetime, and it is certain that he will continue to do so long beyond his passing.
I, for one, find that he reappears in me throughout my endeavors in ministry. It is said of the disciples that persons meeting them took note that they had been with Jesus. Even so, the mark of Brother Hall is stamped deeply upon each of us. We are his monument and memorial. Wherever I go, and among whomever I dwell, the singular quality of Brother Hall's influence emerges in me, and becomes visible, as it does in us all.
Think of me, or of any one of us, what you will. I have, and will remain to have, one great aspect about me, one indelible signature upon my person. With Brother Hall, I was a knight of the round table. I rode with Arthur.
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