My heroes are preachers. There are a dozen or so men that I instantly became enamored with when I obeyed the Gospel, men whose sermons I studied, in book form, on cassette tape, and in person. I sat at their feet and listened to them open the Word of God, speaking eloquently about the power of Christ, the meaning of life, and the salvation of men’s souls. As I’ve grown older, so too have my heroes. One by one, I’ve watched them age, watched their salt and pepper hair turn white, and listened as their formerly booming voices became softer and feebler. It’s a hard thing to watch a hero die, but what a blessing it is when those heroes are Gospel Preachers.

Robert R. Taylor, Jr. was a Gospel preacher.

He was a tireless defender of the faith, a brilliant student of the Word, and a fierce lover of the cross. He struggled all his life with a terrible stutter, but he never let his impediment stop him from doing what he was put on this planet to do. To minimize the impact of his stutter, he memorized his sermons and recited them verbatim to his audiences, whether they were a crowd of dozens or an assembly of thousands. To watch him on mute, you might wonder what all the fuss was about: Brother Taylor would never be called a dynamic speaker. His delivery was monotone, and his movements behind the podium were almost non-existent. Typically, he would clasp his hands and merely look from side to side, surveying the assembly before him as he preached. Once, legend has it, he raised his hand to illustrate a point he was making, and the brethren nearly fainted in disbelief.

To watch him on mute, you might wonder what all the fuss was about, but to hear him preach—if you were a lover of the Word of God—was to hear one of the soundest, most tenderhearted, most thoughtful proclaimers of Truth to live in the 20th century…or any other century for that matter. To hear him was to hear a man in total control of his material, completely absorbed by the Bible, able to recite passages in multiple translations from memory as effortlessly as you could recall your child’s birthday. He also had a wonderful, dry, sense of humor, and a great love of people.

He was born in 1931 and was baptized at age 12. Five years later, he was preaching. For the next three-quarters of a century, that’s what he did. That’s what he was. That’s all he ever needed to be. He preached for decades at the Ripley congregation in Ripley, Tennessee, and traveled all around holding Gospel Meetings and speaking on Lectureships. He was the closing night speaker every year at the MSOP Lectureship, as well as the closer of the annual Spiritual Sword Lectureship. Besides these, to list all the places he preached would be too daunting a task for me. He also wrote avidly, and I’ve been blessed beyond measure to have poured over his commentaries and study books, many of which I once embarrassingly handed to him in a stack, and sheepishly asked him to autograph. He was humble and gracious as ever to accommodate me. We also took this together in the Fall of 2004…

I was just a baby. He has basically looked the same since 1979.

Brother Taylor lived nearly a century on this planet, with ten thousand sermons preached, and proclaimed the Gospel only until he was absolutely physically incapable. In his final days, while on Hospice care, whenever he could speak, he would talk about how much he wanted to get to Memphis to close out the Lectureship. Tonight would have been the night, but instead he has gone to sleep in Christ. I’m told he spoke much in his final hours about how much he longed to see his wife again, the beloved Irene Taylor, as well as his friends and peers who have gone on before him, and the many ancient people of the Bible he dedicated his life to study and learn from, not the least of which is his Savior.

Robert R. Taylor was a hero, one of my most precious. I’m thankful for Christ and the hope he gives us in death.

My hero has died, but he will live again.

~ Matthew