Bob Agnew: his eternal gain is our great loss

On Friday, December 16, 2022, the Lord called home his servant, Bob Agnew. His obituary provides a more complete picture of his life than I could ever write: https://www.oakleyhammond.com/tributes/5522/robert-e-agnew/tribute

Typical Bob: he’s attempting to get bunny ears behind me. Sitting with him is his wife Dixie, who’s waaay nicer.

The first Saturday in 2020, Julie and I attended worship at Trinity Lutheran Church (LCMS), on the east side of Indianapolis. For the sake of Julie’s packed schedule, we desired a congregation that offers a Saturday evening service. Trinity’s 5pm worship attracted us.

Our third week there, a white-haired fellow approached us after worship. “A bunch of us go out to eat after church. You’re more than welcome to join us.” Desiring to meet folks, and to feel part of this congregation, we took him up on it.

That’s how we met Bob, his wife Dixie, and the whole crew we now eat with Saturday evenings. Three years in, they’ve become our church family, in a place we love to worship the Lord, and friends in a city where we’re still relative newcomers.

As you might surmise from the photo, Bob was a blast. His personality and mine meshed—read that: he would talk your ear off, was friendly with everyone, and was easy prey for picking on. To put it bluntly, I never gave him a moment’s rest, and he gleefully repaid the insults.

Julie and I only had 2½ months at Trinity when the covid closure hit. Then, Julie’s mom took ill, and Julie went to Iowa for six months. I found myself more than isolated by the pandemic; I was alone in our house and couldn’t even go to church.

Who was it from our new congregation, who checked in with me with occasional phone calls? It was the guy, with the Santa-like white hair and beard, who delivered to me the gifts of caring and friendship.

Bob wasn’t all talk. He was a put your actions where your mouth is fellow, which made him a vital member of Trinity. The congregation, which operates an elementary school, sits on a large plot of land. That means there’s loads of grass to mow. And, if you know churches, funds are tight so, if members will volunteer to cut the grass, dollars can go to bills that can’t be ignored.

I am not familiar enough with Trinity to know who will fill Bob’s shoes, but I do know from my years at St. John in Port Hope, Michigan, where we also had large expanses of grass, how valuable volunteers are—especially those you can rely on week after summer after year to take care of a job without anyone needing to be concerned it will get done.

Uniting Bob’s love for people and his church, he could be found in Trinity’s commons in the weekly euchre game. He invited me early and often. He encouraged me to play. He cajoled me to join in the fun. That I’ve not done so is only due to my schedule.

At church the evening after we lost Bob, Kathy summed up what I was thinking: “Bob’s death leaves a huge hole.”

Thankfully, we the family of Christ do not mourn as those who have no hope. Indeed, a loss right before our celebration of Christmas is a great reminder: God the Son was born the Son of Mary that He might one day take our sins into Himself, so that all people might receive His righteousness and, with that, His gifts of forgiveness, eternal life, and salvation.

Mourning our loss, we will rejoice with you soon, dear Bob, when with you and all the saints we worship at the throne of the Lord.

Till we meet again, thank you for reaching out to Julie and me. Thanks for being my sparring partner.