Some years ago, when I was still in college, I was driving across New York State after seeing a friend in Rochester. My traveling companion suggested we listen to a sermon, as it was the Lord’s day, as we drove. He suggested we listen to one of his favorite preachers, “Voddie Baucham.” I was only somewhat familiar with Voddie. As a consistent Paul Washer listener, I had heard Voddie referenced numerous times and had heard a few radio appearances where he discussed homeschooling, but I really hadn’t ever truly heard him preach while paying full attention. Our drive that day changed that for good.
As we crossed through a Central New York covered in shades of autumn, we listened as Voddie expounded Luke 15, a passage which he referred to as “the parable of the older son.” Being raised in a pastor’s household and immersed in the Bible, I was completely familiar with the parable, but Voddie’s message quickly made me realize I had mostly missed the point of the story. Rather than being exclusively about the grace and mercy given to the younger son by his father, I realized the parable was primarily about the reaction of the older son to the younger son’s return.
In his 1-hour sermon, Voddie Baucham crescendoed his exposition with a phrase that has affected me ever since first hearing it. Upon seeing his brother being accepted and celebrated by his father, the older brother, in protest, says to his father, “I’ve been GOOD.” Voddie went on to encourage parents not to overlook their “good,” well-behaved children by giving all their attention to children who might be “troublemakers.” The realization that hit me was that, in many ways, I was the older brother. I had never gotten into the trouble that either my brothers or friends had as a young man. I towed the line, kept my course true, followed the rules, and, at least from the outside, looked like an upstanding young Christian man.
But I had experienced a series of fairly severe health problems over the previous few years, and was angry because I thought I was being unfairly punished. After all, I had “been GOOD.” I saw my moral performance as being sufficient to warrant an easier life, one more free of the troubles I was encountering.
I know I’m not remotely alone in experiencing such conviction from the ministry of Voddie Baucham. Over the years, I was able to meet many of my Christian heroes, but I always wanted to meet Voddie the most. I looked up to him in a profound way, not just because he could preach well, but because he seemed like an example of true manhood. After all, this was a guy who could preach “straight fire,” then go to a ju-jitsu match and dominate.
When Voddie moved to Africa, I told many friends that my long-term dream was to go work at African Christian University in Zambia and teach under him. I had lived in Southern Africa for a little while, working at a mission and taking seminary classes. I wanted to get back to the continent, and I couldn’t think of anyone I’d want to follow more than Voddie.
Few Christian leaders commanded as much respect and admiration as Voddie Baucham in my own mind. I was ecstatic when I found out he was planning on coming to our TruthScript men’s retreat. He ended up changing his plans a few weeks prior due to excessive responsibilities and speaking engagements related to his new position at Founder’s Seminary. It was the first night of our retreat, during dinner, that we all heard the news of his departure for heaven.
Of course, the pain that those who looked up to Voddie currently feel cannot be compared to that of his family. Whatever his accomplishments and influence in the broader culture, Voddie was first and foremost a husband and father. It was these roles that he was most passionate about, and his influence was most keenly felt. The size of the hole he leaves is difficult to comprehend.
My family is the primary place where my walk with Christ takes on flesh. It is one thing for me to have a personal relationship with Jesus. However, if I spend hours reading the Bible and praying and invest the lion’s share of my time ministering to others while neglecting my role as husband and father, my relationship with Christ is out of balance or, worse, inauthentic.
–Voddie Baucham, Family Driven Faith
The late George Jones’ song, “Who’s Gonna Fill Their Shoes,” frequently comes to my mind lately. Many conservative Christians have been asking, “What do we do now?” “Who will take over?” and “What leader should we look to?” In some ways, the removal of such stalwart Christian men feels like a judgment on our nation. But perhaps more than anything, we’re reminded that this life is fleeting – we are never more than a millisecond away from eternity. As James 4:14 says, “Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.
But the departure of such exemplary Christians also reminds us that the responsibility to courageously stand for truth, righteousness, and biblical justice in our own spheres falls on us. It’s not something that can be outsourced to a podcast, preacher, or political organizer. Losing those who were doing it well can never be an excuse for slowing in our efforts to be salt and light where God has placed us.
May God bless the family and the continuing legacy of Dr. Voddie Baucham. May his memory bring both a smile and the grit of determination. May we remember his fire in the pulpit, his kind tenderness as a husband and father, and his unshaking faith in Jesus.
You’re going to hear one day that Voddie Baucham is no more.
Don’t you believe it.
Don’t you believe it.
Don’t you believe it.
Because though I die, I will rise with Christ. It will not be the end of me.
—Voddie Baucham
