On June 14, 2003, at his home in Richmond, Virginia, Bro. Gary Burns fell asleep in the Lord after a year-and-a-half battle with leukemia. To say that Gary lost his battle with leukemia would give undue emphasis to physical matters. Gary’s faith and character triumphed over his disease. He won the real battle, the battle of attitude. Not once did I hear a word of complaint or questioning from Gary. He said, “I know why I’m sick—I’m human, and this is what happens to humans. The question is not ‘why me?’ but ‘now what?’ How do I deal with this?” For Gary, it meant counting his daily blessings, showing his concern for others, and living life usefully during the days he had.
For most of Gary’s life, he belonged to a small slot of an already fractured segment of believers. In the past decade, however, in response to personal and ecclesial turmoil, Gary turned inward in his thinking and outward in his perspective. He undertook the all-too-uncommon task of introspection. He mastered the rarest of human attributes: escaping from the abyss of self-righteousness. He admitted he was fundamentally flawed in his approach to religion, and then he vigorously pursued setting his course aright. A synopsis of his spiritual journey appeared in the previous issue of the Tidings under the title “Confessions of a Legalist.” It is a statement of candor and personal introspection. What made Gary a champion was his ability to learn to distinguish between “what I’ve always thought” and “how I ought to think.”
But there’s more to the story. Gary just didn’t change his mind; he changed his life. Then he went about the task, in his usual focused manner, of making sure that everyone knew about it. He made it a point to visit ecclesias that he previously never considered worthy of his presence. He stood on the platform and announced his shame for his years of separatist and disparaging behavior. He made amends with brothers and sisters he had estranged. He explored any avenue of reconciliation on a personal, ecclesial, and national basis.
Gary devoted himself to reconciliation and unity, ultimately resulting in his joining the worldwide body of Christ a few years ago, when Gary and Lindsay became members of the Petersburg, Virginia, ecclesia. The internal conflicts they had to resolve before such a move caused great stress; to take action in this circumstance requires enormous personal strength of conviction. Coming from their paradigm to make a bold move for unity manifested the highest degree of discipleship.
We had our personal rapprochement in 1994; Gary mentioned this in his article. God brought us together under almost comical circumstances. I had agreed, very reluctantly, to teach a class on Legalism vs. Faith at a Bible school. It was odd that I would even be teaching at a school where Gary would attend, and we each had little enthusiasm for each other’s presence when we checked in. The end of the week, however, (omitting much warm detail) found us in embrace and new-found brotherly relationship, that special place reserved only for those who have been blessed with reconciliation.
After Gary became ill with leukemia, he stepped up his motivation and activity, but often found that he had little energy to carry out his desires. He never focused on Gary and Gary’s problems. Gary wouldn’t let a call or visit dwell long on his condition—there were more important issues to deal with. A week before he died, he made a last visit to the Peters burg meeting, where he had been able to attend only sporadically after he became sick. Drawing an oxygen tank behind him, barely able to move on his own, hardly able even to talk, the emaciated figure strengthened the faith of the members and exhorted them to love and unity. Everything for him was about God; nothing was about Gary. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune had wrought nothing but the beautification of character.
To have known him for some thirty years, to have had estrangement and reconciliation, and then work beside him for a few short years, has been a unique and very powerful experience, certainly one of the great influences of my life. At his memorial service, I referred to Socrates’ famous quote, “the examined life is not worth living.” On that account, Gary’s life would be among the most worthwhile lives ever lived.
Nothing can ever replace a loss such as this; the way to make sense of it is to emulate the characteristics of love he so exemplified.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One