He was an 80 year old child. In four decades of ministry I would have to say that he was one of my favorite people. I absolutely loved all my interactions with him.

          James lived with his brother William in an old apartment building across the street from our church in Ohio. William was the older by three years and he watched over James like a hawk. James was very simple minded, mentally around six or seven years old. The problem was, William himself only had the mind of a ten year old. I never got all the back story on the two. There had been an older sister who had married and had children, but no one, including James and William, had any idea where she was. To them, she was still a young mother over in the big town. They didn’t know the name of the ‘big town.’ Considering the size of our town, the ‘big town’ could have been most any place. She was likely dead by the time I met the brothers. William claimed he remembered her changing James’ diaper. When William told me that, James blushed so much I thought his head would explode. So, James and William lived together and no one knew much about them. They were just two old men who wandered around town together.

          William had a crippled leg and could hardly walk. He used a cane and James always helped him, although James hobbled when he walked, as well.. Right around the corner from the apartment building was a convenience store that they ‘shopped’ at. They would go in and get what they needed and go up to pay, putting their money on the counter. The women that worked there would count out a little and ring them up, giving them change back. After the brothers would shuffle out whichever of the women working that day would reach into a little jar under the counter labeled ‘WJ Fund’ and make up the difference on how much they actually owed. Quite a few of us gave to the William and James Fund. They both had Social Security, but by the time their landlord was done ripping them off and they had paid for their utilities and all, there wasn’t much left. And then William refused any kind of help from any agencies. He was going to take care of James and no one was going to interfere.

          William didn’t want to go to church and wouldn’t let James go, either. Too many people there wanting to know your business, he’d say. So, I worked it out with the convenience store to call me when they left and I would hustle down to the corner about the time they got there. I would talk to them a bit and then, since I was going their way, offer to carry their groceries. I wasn’t the only one in our church to reach out to them in a covert manner. If we had a carry-in, and we had them often, someone would always take a lot of food over and tell them either they took it or it might get thrown out. If they needed to go to the doctor, one of our men would take them in his car for a fare. A quarter a piece was the going rate.  All kinds of things like that. Like most churches on Sunday morning before the service begins, ours was a noisy place with folks visiting back and forth. One morning as I was talking to our organist, the whole place got quiet. Nick and I both looked up to see William and James hobbling in and heading for a pew. Nick said, Wow, under his breath and I just nodded my head.

          When you entered that church, you had to go upstairs to get to my office. We were handicapped accessible, but neither William or James could operate the equipment. So it was, less than a week after that surprise visit in church, that I heard the door open and a frightened voice call out. “HELP ME! HELP ME!” I was out of my chair and to the top of the stairs in a couple of heartbeats. James was standing there with tears on his face. “Something is wrong with William! He won’t wake up!” I ran past James and across the street and into the apartment. William, indeed, would not wake up, nor would he ever wake up in this life again. He had passed in his sleep leaving his crushed younger brother behind.

          Our ladies’ group, called the WMU (Women’s Missionary Union) paid for the funeral with the help of donations from the church at large. The brothers were such a fixture in town that it was just about the largest funeral I saw in my time there. The funeral dinner had more people than we could handle, but there was still a lot of food to send home for James. It was as though the community and the church couldn’t do enough for the little guy. He told me a few days later that he couldn’t keep on taking their help, William would not have liked it. “James,” I said. “William took care of you. Everyone wants to help William out now.” That was enough for James. He became the personal project of the WMU.

          And he thrived. He had never eaten so good. It got so his clothes wouldn’t fit, so one of the men took him shopping. He could come to church all the time, which he had never been allowed to do, and he had a church family, which became his family to him. He opened up to people. At one Wednesday morning Bible Study, someone asked him how he was getting along. He said he thought about William a lot, just sitting up there on the clouds strumming his harp and wearing that long white dress (by which he meant the robe and harp and clouds we see in comics depicting heaven). Wistfully he said, “Someday I’ll be there with old William, sitting on a cloud and playing that harp thingy. I don’t think I’ll wear the dress, though.”

The county eventually came in and threatened the owner of the apartments with closure until he brought every thing up to code. It was pretty easy to convince James to leave there and go live at an assisted living place. When he did that his life really opened up. He became a social butterfly. Any activity they were having, he was in the middle of it. Different folks in the church, including Marsha and myself, would stop in to take him for drives. He had lived less than two miles from Lake Erie for as long as he could remember, but had never seen the Lake. We took him to see the Lake. He just stared, his mouth hanging open. “All that there is water?” He just couldn’t believe so much water you couldn’t see the other side. To him, it had to seem like the land ended right there and water stretched on forever. He loved to watch the Cleveland Indians. They had a player at the time named Jim Thome, who eventually wound up in the Hall of Fame. James loved Thome. They even had the same name. For his birthday one year I had contacted the Indians and explained about James and asked for a signed photograph of James’ hero. What I got back was the photo actually signed by Thome and a note on the back telling James how cool it was that they had the same name and how much it meant to Thome to have such dedicated fans as James. Marsha got it framed and we went over to give it to James. He was beside himself. He went from calling him ‘Thome’ to calling him ‘my good buddy Jimmy.’ It was very, very neat.

His favorite song was ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ A child’s song to most of us, but James was a child. He always wanted me to sing it with him. “Jesus loves me, this I know,” both of his hands would go to his heart. “For the Bible tells me so,” tears would begin to well up in his eyes. “Little ones to him belong,” that old and craggy face would soften and the years would drop away. “They are weak and He is strong,” a smile would begin. “Yes, Jesus loves me!” His eyes would turn to heaven and you just knew he was thinking of Jesus and William. “Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves me! The Bible tells me so!” Such a look of joy and satisfaction on a wrinkled and lined face.

Have you ever considered what we need to have? The newest vehicle. The nicer house. The spectacular entertainment. The well ordered church service. If these things are missing from our lives then we feel our lives are missing something. But what if we could appreciate a ride in someone’s old car? What if a bed and a chair and a small 12 inch screen TV was a joy beyond words? What if looking at an endless stretch of water took our breath away every time? What if ‘Jesus Loves Me’ brought us to tears every time we heard it? One of our ladies once said to me that she felt sorry for James because he had missed so much. I told her that if she spent a lot of time with him, she would start feeling sorry for herself because she was missing so much wonder and joy.

James believed in Christ with the simple and pure faith of a child. Some day I am absolutely certain I will stand in Glory, stunned by the majesty and thrilled by the presence of God. A man will walk up to me on strong and sure legs. Even though he will be young, I will know it is James. “This is it, Pastor. This is what I saw and felt every day. Enjoy!”

Jesus loves me!
This I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong;
They are weak but He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.