The other night I had an odd experience. It didn't feel odd at the time. I'd just met Nan, the type of person I call "instant family". As we talked after class, both at the conference and later in a group eating at Kerbey Lane, there were a couple of times Nan responded to something Desiree or I said with, "Oh, that's good!" and wrote it in her notebook.
Later it hit me that this was the second time in a couple of weeks this has happened to me. I'm not sure it ever happened before. But as I looked at it from outside rather than inside it caught me off guard. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling. I wondered, "Is this what Bill feels like? Gushed over all the time?"
To keep the record clear, Nan wasn't gushing, She was simply excited at things she thought would help her, and I was excited to be able to help. But Bill does get gushed over. I'm pretty sure I've done it. It can be hard not to gush when someone saves your life. And that's what I tell people-- "Jesus saved my soul, but Bill saved my life."
OK, he didn't snatch me from the jaws of physical death. But he looked at me, and instead of seeing what some folk see, he saw what God sees, treated me that way, and called that out in me. Had Bill not done this three years ago, I'd probably still be fairly safely and fairly miserably ensconced where I'd been for years. Instead, I walked out a free man, a new man, a man with limitless possibilities ahead.
I'm not the only person who says these sorts of things about Bill. I can name quite a few people who feel similarly, at least a couple of whom put it in very similar ways. Bill has impacted tens of thousands of lives (at least, probably far more) for the better. And a number of them (us?) have been known to gush. And to write down things he said, things which really grabbed hold of us, touched something deep, promised life, blooms and water in a parched desert. Life changing words.
While Bill and his awesome family recently moved to another state, he continues to be a friend, a mentor, a brother, a strength, a sounding board, so many things. He left behind, as he has other places, a community of people in closer relationship with God, themselves and each other, a community changing the world around them, a community walking in freedom, love and power.
I've been known to say, "He's my Bill Johnson". (If you don't know who Bill Johnson is, just take my word for it that he's touched a lot of lives, including my friend Bill's).[1] By the time Bill moved away, he'd raised up quite a few leaders here. I pray that some day many people will say of each of us, "S/he's my Bill Vanderbush".[2] Not because I need the accolades, but because I want to make an impact like Bill-- and because he deserves a lot of honor for all he's done.
Being the awesome guy he is, Bill will smile that amazing smile that has Daddy's love for his kids and Jesus' love for his bride all over it, and say something simple but profound and we'll all go, "Oh, that's good!" and reach for our pens and journals.
[1] This recognition originally hit me at the same time it hit Will Matthews. It immediately popped out of our mouths in perfect sync, cracking us both up.
