In MemoriamService of Witness to the Resurrection
April 12, 2008
Just before Christmas of 2002, the phone rang at the Copeland house. The call was from Tom and Abby Potter. They had a Christmas present for us, and they’d like to bring it by, they said. About half an hour later I heard a car horn. I walked out the front door and was somewhat surprised to find Tom and Abby there. Not standing. Sitting. In their car at my front door. Tom was behind the wheel with his portable oxygen machine. Abby was in the front seat smiling warmly. (She hadn’t driven since her auto accident some years earlier.)
Being Tom and Abby, they didn’t want to trouble me by causing me to walk down to my driveway. So Tom simply drove the Buick across the front lawn and right up to my door. I thanked them for their thoughtfulness, wished them a Merry Christmas, and off they went – across the lawn, over the curb, and onward to their appointed rounds.
I don’t remember what they gave us that day, but I’ll never forget the delivery. When God made Abby Potter he neglected to install a "stop" button. She just kept on and on and on,
- doing the work of the kingdom,
- seeking justice for the disenfranchised,
- breaking down racial barriers,
- prodding elected officials to do the right thing,
- hosting fundraisers for approaching elections,
- throwing parties which were comprised of the most interesting and assorted people one could imagine
– and doing it all with a combination of New England contrariness and Old South charm.
Abby was a pint-sized dynamo, a lightweight Leviathan, a force to be reckoned with and a hostess generous with both Scotch and succor. Politicians who acted condescendingly toward her did so only once, and preachers who failed to take her measure learned the true meaning of repentance.
We at First Church loved Abby not just for what she did and what she stood for, but also for what she called forth from us: compassion for those whom Jesus called "the least of these," pleasure in good company and conversation, impatience for change, and faith that "God is working his purpose out as year succeeds to year."
Tom and Abby both made their mark on Tallahassee. This community would have been the poorer without them, and this congregation was enriched beyond measure by their faithfulness.
At Tom’s memorial service five years and three months ago we read from the Epistle of James. "Faith without works is dead," James contends. The writer’s point is not that we can earn our way into heaven, but that it is not enough merely to say that we love God and hear the Word. Love for God is shown through love for neighbor, and love for neighbor requires not only charity, but also justice.
Abby had little patience for the kind of piety that calls attention to itself, but pays little attention to the homeless person on the street. That’s why she and Tom worked so hard to establish the Shelter of Tallahassee and Leon County. They saw homelessness as a justice issue, and would not allow our public officials to hide their heads from it.
We also read from John 14 – that passage in which Jesus promises a room for us in his Father’s house of many rooms. That image seems particularly appropriate for a woman who bore seven children and maintained a deep love for the family home in Pennsylvania mountains called Woodburn. We here in Tallahassee heard a lot about Woodburn. The way Abby described it, it sounds a lot like heaven to me (in the spring and summer, anyway.) It helps me to think that Abby has already been welcomed into an eternal house with many rooms, the hostess received by the Host.
This service this morning is not a funeral. That has already taken place in the Olde Covert Church on Armenia mountain near Woodburn. But it is a witness to the resurrection. The Easter faith, the faith in which Abby lived and died, is a faith that values work not because we imagine we can earn our way into heaven, but because we are grateful for the work that God in Christ has already accomplished.
Because Christ is risen, we know that the future belongs to God in Christ. God’s kingdom will come. God’s justice will roll down like an ever-flowing stream. The nations will come from east and west, from north and south to sit at one table of welcome. We know this because Christ is risen.
But sometimes we forget. We get discouraged, and we loose heart, as though Christ were not risen. That’s why God sends us saints like Abby Potter to keep us pointed in the kingdom’s direction. Today we remember with thanksgiving her life and witness and we join her family in commending her to God.
To God alone, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be all glory now and forever. Amen.