Last evening, at about 8:45pm, our precious brother and mentor, Ralph Cross, slipped free from the bonds of this terrestrial plane, and was carried by angels into the restful realm of Paradise. To say he lived a full and accomplished life would be an understatement. If you ever took the time to speak with him, you almost certainly heard snippets of his life, of all the places he lived, all the people he knew, and all the things he experienced over the course of his days.
With his booming, baritone voice, and larger than life presence, he could have been intimidating to approach, but then he’d flash that gentle smile, and utter a soft word of kindness and encouragement, and even a timid child would be put right at ease. He was the very definition of a meek man: Obviously strong, but restrained, gentle, and loving. He was a pleasure to be around.
There will be a memorial in his honor, probably this Saturday, but there is no funeral service that could ever hold every story we might tell, every anecdote he gave us, every embarrassing moment he lived through (and a few that he caused), every accomplishment his achieved, and every act of charity he did for others. We would need a lifetime to tell it all, because that’s exactly what he had in this world: He lived over ninety years, with over seventy of them spent with his beloved Lucy at his side. But if you strip away the accomplishments, the funny stories, and all the things he saw and did, at the end of it all, you’re left with a man who loved his Lord, loved his wife, loved his family, and loved his life. He was a role model of a husband, father, elder in the church, neighbor, patriot, employee, and friend.
Those of us who saw him regularly noticed his health deteriorating, to the point where we almost feel guilty wishing today that he was still with us. He gave the world nine decades of hard work and friendship. Now he gets to rest. And yet, a part of us can’t help but wish he was still here. That’s the curse of death. We take comfort in Jesus, who made The Tomb empty, and who promises the same for all of us, one day.
We part with Ralph today, and we hope in God to see him again beyond the sunset, where our legs will be strong, our voices loud, and our singing unending.
~Matthew