FIRST GLIMPSE: He Made It Look Easy

“It’s easy! Here, let me show you.”

With no wasted motion, my cousin John grabbed two bundles of roofing shingles—one over each shoulder—and climbed a wobbly extension ladder two stories without using his hands, depositing the bundles on the roof like sacks of groceries. Back on the ground, he glanced over with a perfectly straight face. “Shouldn’t take you too long.”

He made it look so easy. I should have known better. It took everything I had (and more) just to keep up with the guys nailing down shingles. Three hours later, heart pounding, legs quivering, and drenched in sweat, I was the happiest guy on earth to hear those magic words, “Ready to grab some lunch?”

That first day on the construction site was one of the many times John Driggers made things look easy when they really weren’t.

As the “baby” cousin, an only child ten years younger, I looked up to John, watching him closely for cues about how to act and live. As a kid, I emulated his lopsided, mischievous smile, walked like he walked, wore my hat like he did (off to one side), and did my best to remember all his goofy one-liners to repeat to school friends.

While a young teen, I learned from John how to have fun without getting into trouble—mischief without the mayhem. Good, wholesome activities with friends and family. I also watched John struggle to find his place in life and ministry, and later it helped me through my own struggles to find a role in God’s work.

As the years passed, John led the way in so many areas. He taught me to find enjoyment in small things: flea market finds, goofy song lyrics, fun moments with the kid cousins. And generosity. I never left John’s house without a handful of bills. “Gettin’-around money,” he called it. He gave me a summer job during college then taught me what it means to work hard, really hard. (Really, really hard.)

As an adult, John showed me how to be a good husband and father (Deddy in rural South Carolina). He always managed to make time for his wife, daughter, and aging parents despite a brutal schedule as a builder/contractor and pastor. John made it look easy. Today, as a husband and father myself, I know it wasn’t.

He taught me what it means to speak the truth in love. I’ll be honest: I didn’t always enjoy (or appreciate) that part of our relationship, but I am grateful for the difference it made in my life.
Then, last October, John taught me something else. Something I really didn’t want to learn—how to finish well. Diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer days after walking his beautiful daughter down the aisle, John left this earth a month after his diagnosis. While I wasn’t with John during those hard final days, I understand his last thoughts were not for his own comfort but for his family, his work, his church, and, most importantly, his Lord. Sounds about right.

He didn’t want a funeral, just a simple graveside service followed by homemade desserts and gallons of ice cream. I think the entire county turned out, cars filling the church parking lot, packing the field beside the church, and lining the highway on either side.

Seems I wasn’t the only one who looked up to John. We are all going to miss him.

About the Columnist: Eric K. Thomsen is managing editor of ONE Magazine.