I was about 10 years old when I first met the towering figure of Rev. Zan Holmes Jr on an elevator in New Orleans, LA.  I was in awe at the giant who stepped into the elevator just as the doors were starting to close and I stood, paralyzed in shyness, as he bent down with his enormous smile and warmly greeted each one of us—my sister, my brother and me—and asked us how we were doing, despite the fact that just minutes prior to getting on the elevator he had just been dealt one of most massive blows imaginable at the hands of those who were his brothers and sisters and should have been his advocate: the delegates and leaders of the South Central Jurisdiction of the United Methodist Church.

You see, leading up to the conference, Zan had been favored to be elected a Bishop, but as the tight rounds of voting got closer to their end, it became increasingly evident that he would not in fact be chosen; and the rumor going around was that it was because “we already had a black bishop.”

Those who know Zan, know he was not known for his great physical stature. But I was raised knowing him to be a giant—not only in his career (he had already been a Texas State Legislator twice, a District Superintendent and had raised up a tiny church of 50 to one of the most dynamic congregations in the country with a membership of 5000, faithfully preaching the Gospel and pursuing justice in the community with over 100 ministries), but also of the faith. The very church he raised from 50 to 5000, he had been assigned to at the beginning of his career when he was passed up for another position for which he had been favored: that of the first black pastor of First United Methodist Church.

And yet he was still in the game, serving faithfully and excellently both the Church and the City that countless times in his life had failed him.  He continued to serve the Church for over decade after that encounter on the elevator, and has remained a man not only of incredible strength and tenacity, but of truly supernatural grace and love.  Just over a year ago I had the chance to get coffee with Dr. Holmes and he was still dreaming of a corporate worship service that would bring together people of all races both as a demonstration of our communion in the faith, and so that we could “start practicing for heaven”.

In 2002 I was able to attend Dr. Holmes’ retirement service, which was held at the very church he had been denied decades before. It was standing room only, even in the balcony where I stood with my parents, rapt as Zan recounted the trajectory of his time as a minister, including the countless injustices he had received at the hands of the church itself. And
then with both extraordinary grace and love he powerfully declared over it all, “What man has intended for evil, God has intended for good.”

I have often said that these two moments are two of the most impactful experiences of my entire life. It was in these moments that the reality of racism—both individualized and systemic—became undeniably real and indelibly marked on my conscience. And it was in these moments that I saw manifested before me the richness, boldness and power of a man who nevertheless lived fully and wholeheartedly his faith in every area of his life, and in so doing has been for me one of the greatest witnesses to the Gospel and to the redemptive work of our Lord I have ever known. Zan is known as one of the “Invisible Giants of the Civil Rights Movement” for his tireless work fighting against racism and for justice. And I believe for this and countless other reasons, he is a true Giant in the Kingdom of God.

 

 

Kathleen Durham is the Director of Administration and Development for the C.S. Lewis Institute-Dallas. You can reach her here. She’d love to hear from you!