Meet the Preacher

This is my beloved Granddaddy Moore, known to others as President of the Georgia Baptist Convention, Trustee of Mercer University, Dr. Moore, or simply "Preacher."

I knew him as a huge, gentle, loving Granddaddy, patient with my questions about fish guts, never eating peaches with the fuzz still on, smiling as he ran around the camera to be in the picture. I remember his study, with so many books and the big brown vinyl fold-out couch. And his various putting gadgets, the ones I liked to roll the golf balls into, watching them spit back out across the living room carpet over and over again. And I was always really fascinated by his really big ear lobes. He was my safe place. And I loved him for it.

Other people thought of him differently. To the Minister of Music, he was a beloved "bossman," with the final word on everything. To the young Baptist, he was a much-admired authority figure, whose word was never questioned. To the segregationist in his recently-integrated church (the first one in the Georgia Baptist Convention to integrate, a feat accomplished in 1963), he was an "underhanded, deceitful communist." Another minister referred to him as an "unusual combination of Christian scholar, and reg'lar feller."

As far as I can tell from what I've learned, this remarkable man was the complete package: he had scholarship, impeccable integrity, boundless wit, an unusual ability to deeply understand people, administrative skills, courage, great preaching, and a political mind. And don't forget those really cool earlobes.

He was both a doer and a deep thinker, something we could do with a little more of in our modern leadership.

His daughter, my mother, never questioned his wisdom, especially when he said an oath was an oath, and a marriage was forever. I do wonder what his wisdom would have been, had he known the full story of what we were surviving.