I Think I'll Just Stick With It

Fred D. Hartsell
March 3,1941 - July 2, 2009

On Father’s Day of this year, Mom and Dad were in town and we decided to hit one of the local restaurants after Sunday evening service. When we arrived and were seated, we noticed my father-in-law was already there and invited him over to sit with us as well. Pastor, my dad, Fred and I sat at one end of the table discussing the various aspects of the menu among other things. We were unaware that this would be the last time we would have the opportunity to enjoy a meal with Fred.

As conversation turned from one subject to the other, eventually we began to talk about the different aspects of the apostolic movement, things that had “changed”, and the principles that were or were not behind such things. My father reminded me this week as we prepared for the funeral of a simple, yet profound statement that my father-in-law made that evening. Bro. Hartsell said in only the way he could, “I think I will stick with what I have learned and been taught.”

You would have to understand Fred’s life to fully understand the implications of that statement. If Bro. Hartsell had been born and raised in the knowledge of the truth, it may not have been surprising to hear such a word from him. However, Fred received the Holy Ghost and was baptized at the age of 30 in 1971. His parents did not raise him in it; none of his six siblings lived in truth; his ex-wife or children from that marriage were not living for God. Fred walked alone, but that is not to say that he walked without action.

He let it be known to his family about the truth. As years went by, he consistently witnessed to them by word of mouth and by the word of his walk. He never wavered once he received this great message; even in times of turmoil and times when in the humanistic sense he could have said, “I give up.” Oh the joy he must have felt when he received that phone call; when Mary, his sister, called him and told Fred, “I just spoke in tongues!” Finally, someone else in his family had received the truth.

He met his soul mate, Kay, and they married in 1977. A virtuous woman, Kay would be a steadfast rock in Fred’s life. For 25 years they would be inseparable until the day the Lord took Kay home in 2002. Once again a time of turmoil in his life, Fred stood firm. Certainly he was devastated. Surely his heart was torn. But he just stuck with it. He continued to be faithful to “his church.” It was not a statement of greed, but as pastor put in on Monday, it was a loving possessiveness. He loved his church. He loved this faith and he believed beyond every doubt in its message. Now he has gone on to be with his Kay and together they are traveling on the Glory Land Railway (he was also a train enthusiast).

As I went through Fred’s music collection (one that he treasured), I thought I would find it filled with his love for classical and bluegrass gospel. I did find those including some Harvest Time LPs from the early 70’s, but nearly half of the CDs collected were not music at all. It was teaching and preaching. One minister told me on Sunday that Fred was his greatest fan. I am sure that there are many teachers, preachers, evangelists and others who could echo those words. Fred made it a point after you preached to make sure he told you how much he appreciated it; enforcing again his love for the Word. As I went through them I found many names, some known and others not; Jonathan Alvear, Keith Hood, Nathan Reever, Luke Levine, Larry Booker, Travis Miller, Johnny Godair, Stephen Willeford, Winfred Black, Roger Spaugh, Verbal Bean and many more. Others have even said that Fred could recite some of their messages point for point though they had not recently preached those in particular.

About a year after Kay had passed, Fred moved in with us for a couple of years before getting his own apartment. During that time, I would wander by his bedroom door after dinner. Without fail, every time I did, I would hear the sounds of scripture emanating from his CD player as he read along. He was a student of the Word. No, he never preached a Sunday night sermon. No, he never taught a Wednesday night bible study. However, the smile that came across his face when hearing the Word was immeasurable. He ministered to the eyes and ears of those who surrounded him.

Bro. Hartsell made a friend everywhere he went. It mattered not that he had never met you. If you waited on him at Ponderosa, you were his friend. If you were the clerk at Walgreen’s, you were his friend. You were his friend even when you thought you didn’t need one at the time. His physical therapist told us that Fred was the sweetest man she knew, even helping her through a difficult time in her life. Even after his therapy was over, he would stop by just to check in and say “Hi.” Yes, we laughed when he could not come up with the right words he wanted to express himself. I am embarrassed to say that at times we even made fun of him when he misspoke. That was just the charm of the man we knew.

Fred’s legacy will not be known because of a national publication, a great conference message or something recognized by man. Bro. Hartsell preferred it that way. He was about plugging along; one station in life to the next. What many will remember will be the image of a man, one arm lifted straight up, the other outstretched from his body because of a bum shoulder; the image of a man whose battered knees kept him from running but not from walking the aisles of the church.

As I drove through Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery today where Fred is laid to rest with his fellow men in arms, I realize that I should have hugged him more; I should have told him I loved him more often. However, what I can say is that Fred stuck with it just as he said he would. I can only hope that my determination will one day measure up to what you have shown us.

You done good, Fred…you done REAL good.