A Tribute to Dr. Charles Taber

In an earlier post I promised to pay tribute to Dr. Taber. My delay in writing is because I've been contemplating what most impressed me about the man. I think I've finally put my finger on it.

Although Dr. Taber was a noted missiologist and a word smith with few peers, I keep coming back to something else that stood out about him: Christian maturity. This most desirable of traits is not to be taken lightly. By his own admission he wasn't naturally patient. He liked things punctual. He had high standards. Papers in his class were due at the start of class. One of my friends once worked through the class period, printed his paper, ran up to the classroom, followed Dr. Taber from the classroom to his office, and gave him the paper. Dr. Taber thanked him for the paper, suspended it over the trashcan between his pinching fingers, said "...but when I said papers were due at the beginning of class I meant it," and then he let the paper drop unceremoniously and unread into the trash.

That's the Dr. Taber I knew when I was given the opportunity to become the minister at Grandview. When I was being considered for the position I was invited to a big breakfast at the Buckner house. When I walked in and saw Dr. Taber I said, "Hello, Dr. Taber, it's good to see you." His response was, "I'm not giving you grades anymore. Call me Charles." From then on, with herculean effort, I learned to call him by his first name.

When I arrived at Grandview we were in the midst of a worship wars ... hymnic hostilities ... chorus combat (is that enough alliteration for you?). These weren't all-out, take no prisoner, battles. They were more subtle than that. At the bottom of the difficulties was (I think) fear. Fear that "my" favorite style of worship was going to be taken from me. Fear causes turf wars.

In the midst of that I sought background information from as many people as I could. The stories sounded mostly the same and they all focused on the events of the previous ten years. When I had the chance to sit down with Charles he said something I heard nowhere else.

"Grandview went through a leadership crisis years ago," he said, "and when they did they invited [me and some others] to step into leadership. We did. And we stole their church."

Implicit in his tone and words was the realization that he and the others had not intended to do so, but that upon reflection he seemed to think they had neglected a segment of the church's music and life and (slowly) much of that segment had gone away. I didn't push him on the point. I think I knew what he meant.

The people who sang old, gospel hymns lost their sappy Fanny Crosby songs and saw them replaced with high church hymns. Call it Worship War I. Fast-forward to Worship War II.

Perhaps it was with that realization that Charles designed the Missions Emphasis worship service one year and included the song, "Shine, Jesus, Shine" in the traditional 11am service at Grandview. I am certain he didn't like that song. I believe he included it because he thought it was important to sing each other's songs.

I remember worrying on that Sunday that I would have to field questions about the inclusion of "Shine Jesus Shine" in the second service. Then I realized that I could just say, "Hey, if you want to complain, complain to Dr. Charles R. Taber, professor of Missions at Emmanuel School of Religion." What a relief!

Ever wonder what Christian maturity looks like? Charles wasn't worried about losing his songs. He was worried about including others in the service he designed. Christian maturity is more interested in unity and reaching out to others than in its own musical likes and dislikes.

Others will remember Charles' contributions to the academy, I will remember his contribution to the church and to my own growth as a disciple of Christ.

Thanks, Dr. Taber ... er ... Charles, for your example of Christian maturity, for your fidelity to your wife and your family, for your love for the church, for your love for the world, and for your love for God. You are missed.