The loss of every loved one is significant, no matter how many people knew or admired the person. But sometimes the Lord brings a person into your life whose loss is felt more deeply and broadly, not because they were more important, but because, in some way, they were more alive. They leave a larger hole behind when they go. Such was the recent loss of my dear friend David Farrar.
More Alive
I cannot think of a better way to describe him than simply to say he was more alive than most of us. There was a certain fullness about him that made you want whatever it is he had. Being near him you hoped it would rub off. His life was one of those rare examples left among us to show us a better way. And while he would be the first to confess his own faults, we all struggled to see them.
Most of us have certain things we love. David loved people. Humanity was his hobby. He craved conversations. And not the superficial, weightless sort of talk that fills up too much of our time. He would gladly talk about anything to get the communication flowing. He would listen. But he would always take the conversation to a deeper level. He had a certain way about him that just invited you to open up. You knew he cared. Nearing the end of his life, as he laid in his bed amidst the many visitors that came to see him, he said to one of them “I have a magnet in me that draws me to others.” I felt that magnet pull my soul toward him many times.
And everything David did was in collaboration with, and supported by, his dear wife Vida. She too is one of those “alive more than most” sorts of people. She is an amazingly talented and godly woman, a musician, a scholar, a tender-hearted teacher of many, an example to all. Together, David and Vida transformed the quality and character of whatever gathering they joined. Many churches felt the impact of this devoted duo.
He passed away at 89 after a relatively brief battle with cancer. Actually, I don’t think there was much battling that happened. By the time it was diagnosed he needed to almost immediately be sent home on hospice care. I talked to him a couple times on the phone before his passing. He was not afraid. He was ready to be with the Lord. A few days before his passing, Bonnie and I had scheduled a visit to go see him. But he was having a difficult day, so we needed to postpone. Now that meeting has been postponed again, this time until we meet in glory.
At his funeral, which was held a the First Baptist Church in Leominster on October 5, 2024, one of his dearest friends, Pastor Leonard Gulstrom, summarized this saint’s life by sharing with us the 3 questions he always asked every time they met together.
David’s Three Questions:
- How are you doing?
- How can I help?
- What can I pray about for you?
These questions were frequently asked of me as well, and they give you something of a glimpse into the heart of this godly man’s life. There was nothing mechanical in his method. When he wanted to know how you were, he really meant it. I recall numerous long, deep, heart-checking conversations with my dear friend, who was something like another father-figure to me. We would talk about life, marriage, the church. He loved to gather men together and study the Bible and talk about how to be a mature man in a world that seems bent on keeping us as boys.
David will be missed, but his memory will never be forgotten. His Christ-like manner has given me an example that I feel bound to strive for, even if I may never attain the measure he did. By the way, how are you doing? How can I help? What can I pray about for you?
