The Pure in Heart

(Reposting an edited piece from last spring, joining emily and friends again this week at imperfect prose)

Most of us probably have distinct memories of that kid from sixth grade who was picked on mercilessly by the rest of the class. The one who didn’t fit in, who was unattractive and socially awkward. Sadly, many of us would have to admit to joining in on the teasing, much to our shame and regret.

In 1977, that person in my brother’s classroom was Johnny, although often the unwelcome attention was lavished equally upon him and his friend Lon. Intelligent, well-mannered, and nerdy, Johnny and Lon were target-rich for their classmates’ ridicule. My brother remembers once asking Johnny if he ever listened to rock music. Johnny responded that, why, yes he did. Rachmaninoff!

He may as well have had “Kick me” tattooed on his forehead.

A funny thing happened to my brother, though, as he watched and sometimes participated in the classroom ridicule. He started getting a kick out of Johnny’s oddities and quirks. He began to get to know and respect him, and they became friends. Their friendship lasted throughout high school, college, and into their adult years.

Johnny lived alone, having been raised by a single mother for whom he cared until her death several years ago. He was led to the Lord in the living room of a godly neighbor, a Sunday school teacher from a nearby church. On the day she moved out of her home, Johnny visited to thank her, pointing out that it was in her very living room that he came to know the Lord Jesus Christ. A caring and compassionate young man, Johnny made a point of visiting and checking in on my elderly widowed mother from time to time. My brother believes that Johnny was incapable of thinking badly of others. If he heard something shocking or scandalous about someone, he would shake his head as though the report couldn’t possibly be true.

Johnny never married. He became a high school biology teacher. Last April, Johnny collapsed in his classroom while tutoring several of his students and died at the age of forty-four. The outpouring of love and grief expressed by his students, both past and present, as well as parents and coworkers has been simply astounding. They’ve posted their comments online: I knew he really cared about me. He made biology fun. Remember his bee dance? He always asked when I would be working at the local donut shop and then made a point of stopping in to see me. I wouldn’t have graduated from high school without his encouragement. He was there for me when my sister was sick. I am in medical school because of him. Who knew there were still teachers like Johnny who were so committed to their work and passionate about investing in the lives of their students? Upon hearing the news of Johnny’s death, the local school board canceled its scheduled meeting. The school district arranged bus transportation so that students could attend his funeral.

My brother last saw Johnny this past year at Christmastime and has two distinct memories. He remembers giving Johnny a hard time about not having a cell phone, and hearing Johnny respond, “Who is going to call me?” The second memory he had was of feeling jealous of Johnny and the joy and satisfaction he had found in his work.

Johnny has finished the work he was put on this earth to do, and the rest for this saint triumphant is won. His students, his coworkers, and his friends mourn the loss of his sweet and gentle soul. And the familiar words of Scripture ring with their truth, blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.