An Angel Remembered: Rick Lamb

rick-lamb

 

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

                                                                                                                                    Hebrews 13:2

 

I met Rick in a beach park in Honolulu. With Central Union Church, I founded a homeless ministry there, setting up a canopy and about 30 chairs for a worship service and shared meal each Thursday evening. Rick walked up as I arrived in the church van one day and offered to help set up for the service. Fifty something, Rick was ruggedly handsome, but the lines on his face betrayed years of hard living. He spoke proudly of his accomplishments including having owned an HVAC company and becoming a licensed pilot. And he also lay claim to more colorful chapters in his life including riding with a motorcycle gang; he carried a picture of his Harley with a holstered gun strapped to the handlebars.

And, I quickly learned, Rick was a serious alcoholic and lived in that beach park; he was homeless. I worked very closely with Rick for about four years. He made repeated efforts to get back on his feet, recommitting himself to sobriety and seeking employment. But there were many other times when he would call me, very, very drunk and in no shape to help himself.

Rick was the first person to call me pastor, though he would also sometimes call me “Pastor Pagan,” a rather questionable term of endearment that I never quite understood. He would also sometimes attend worship at Central Union Church, wearing his pilot’s uniform of black pants, a white shirt with military-style shoulder boards, and aviator sunglasses. The church loved him through all his ups and downs, and so did I. He attended my wedding.

One day, Rick got the news that his mother had died. He loved his mother, and she loved him. He had lived with her for a time, though I imagine that his drinking caused her much heartache. She left him a modest amount of money, enough to buy a cabin cruiser which he named Tailspin (a humorous nod to his love of flying, but also, perhaps, a darkly ironic premonition of things to come).

Living aboard his boat was going to be Rick’s ticket to a better life, he was sure of it. Indeed, he stayed sober for a few months but, sadly, again succumbed to his addiction. One night I got a call that Rick had gotten into a drunken fight on the waterfront. He was beaten badly and, after several days on life support, died.

Unbeknownst to me, Rick had made me, his Pastor Pagan, a beneficiary of his estate. There wasn’t a lot of money left after his debts were paid, but there was enough to cover some of the expenses of my seminary education.

Rick’s picture sits beside my computer in my office to remind me of the ways God worked through him to call and equip me for ministry, a ministry that has happily led me here to First Church Simsbury, another assembly of angels unaware.

Sunday, February 12, will be the fifteenth anniversary of Rick’s death, and this year marks the tenth anniversary of my ordination.

Thank you Rick. Soar with the angels.

In Christ,

Pastor George

 

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Published in: on January 26, 2017 at 11:47 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. beautiful tribute, george! ❤


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