Every morning, as I round the corner of my desk to begin my work as a Senior Pastor, two photos catch my eye. They sit in a place where I cannot miss them, holding two defining moments in my own journey of call: the day I was commissioned as a student at Campbell University Divinity School, and the day we celebrated the retirement of the founding dean of that same school. In both photos, a smiling version of me stands beside my mentor, professor, and friend, the founding dean himself, Dr. Michael G. Cogdill.

If the people who shape us are giants, then Mike Cogdill towered above most. He was the one who opened my Divinity School experience with one of his unmistakable lines (best heard in his singular voice): “Class, the Christ-centered journey on which you are embarking is not going to be easy, but never forget, it is worth a life.”

He was the one who sent me a job posting when he sensed I needed a new direction, a posting that ultimately ushered me into the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, the denominational home that now shapes my ministry. When I told him I’d been offered the position, he replied:

“I had a feeling you would be perfect for that ministry.

Proud of you!  Good work.”

For a young man who grew up without a father, it was rare that I’d heard the words “I’m proud of you!” from other men. I read them with a swelling heart and tears in my eyes. They reminded me who I was and why I had answered this call in the first place.

When my ordination approached in 2014, there was no question who I would ask to preach the charge. His response still means more than he ever knew:

“Let me say that I am happy to participate in the service, but I would be just as happy to be a proud participant and sit in the congregation.”

Maybe that sounds small to someone else, but to me it was everything. Deans did not simply attend ordinations of former students; they presided over them. Yet he meant what he said, because he wasn’t only a dean. He was a pastor. He preached that day at Oakmont Baptist Church in Greenville, North Carolina, reminding everyone present that the call of God belongs not only to one candidate but to the whole people of God. He titled the sermon “A Sacred Calling,” and it has stayed with me ever since.

Six years later, as I applied to the doctoral program at the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond, I asked him to write a recommendation letter. He agreed, of course (after, of course, asking if I’d considered Campbell for a third degree). When I shared the news that I had been accepted, he responded:

“Congratulations. I knew this would be the result.

I look forward to hearing about this new journey for you.

MC”

That was who he was. A giant. A steady witness of what it means to follow Jesus. A mentor who mentored by simply being fully himself. A professor who challenged, listened, and encouraged. Someone who believed deeply in the church, in thoughtful theological education, and in the kind of calling that was, quite literally, worth a life.

When he preached or taught, he almost always found a way to say that “today is a high and holy day.” It was the first phrase that rose within me when I heard he had passed, though when I imagined his voice saying it, I resisted. “It most certainly is not,” I thought. “Mike Cogdill has died.”

But as I sat longer with the news, I remembered the Christ-centered hope by which he lived. I remembered the promise he held onto with such confidence, the truth that this world is only one step in the long journey beyond our final breath. I have almost no trouble picturing him now, walking toward Jesus with that unmistakable smile, finally hearing the words he so fully lived: “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

And because of that, his familiar refrain is, in fact, right. Today is a high and holy day. It is the day a great man crossed from a life-well-lived into a life-well-longed-for. It is the day a guiding presence stepped into the eternal light he helped so many of us learn to follow.

In the introduction to his book It’s Worth a Life: Hearing and Responding to God’s Call, he wrote:

“A helpful image for [the journey of call] is the idea of ‘lantern theology.’ This image suggests that the journey to find one’s calling often occurs in ‘lighted steps’ along the way. This book will help readers discover and follow these lighted steps. So grab your lanterns and let the journey begin. Remember, it is worth a life to answer God’s call!”

Today, one of the brightest lanterns many of us have ever followed has gone ahead of us. His light has not gone out; it has simply moved farther up the path, illuminating the next steps we will one day take. And for that reason, though we mourn our great loss, it is with gratitude and with hope that I can firmly say it with him:

Today is a high and holy day!

———-

Author’s Note:

Please join with me in praying for his family, particularly his wife Gail and their children and grandchildren, as they navigate this loss.

For all we feel, they feel it exponentially more.