Tonight I am grieving the home-going of a great pastor, Pastor Bill Hamel. I don't know what to say amidst the flood of memories I have sitting under this great man other than to say he was the last really great pastor who pastored me and my family during some very difficult years.
We moved to Minnesota in 1979 when my daughter Abby was just a few months old. He became her first pastor. She connected to him in a special and glorious way. Fortunately for her, she got to see him this last May when she went back to Minnesota to visit some dear friends. It was just weeks before he received the diagnosis that meant he had such a short time left on this earth. I am happy she had some time with him.
We started attending West Bloomington Free Church shortly after settling into the suburb of Bloomington. It was not a huge church, probably medium sized by most standards. We made some life-long friends there. Bill was the pastor there, a great big man with a huge heart for his flock. During several of those years I led worship alongside this great man. I fondly remember sitting in his office each Sunday morning before each service. We would talk and pray and I came to love this man of God deeply.
While we were in Minnesota our daughter developed some health issues. She had to spend a couple days in the hospital when she was just 13 months old while needed tests were run to figure out why she was failing to thrive. I remember he came to see us during those days. It was something he did as a pastor.
As Abby got older we noticed she adored this great big man. On two occasions during a Sunday service while the congregation was praying, she slipped away from us and would walk up to the platform and stand next to him while he prayed. He would finish praying and seeing Abby would just tell her she needed to go back and sit with her parents.
At one point she needed surgery to remove her tonsils. When she came back to her room after the surgery she refused to talk to us, I don't think she even wanted to look at us feeling we were responsible for her post-surgery discomfort. At one point we looked up and there was Bill standing in the doorway, filling it. She looked at him and flung her arms out for him and uttered her first post-surgery word, "Pastor". He took her in his arms and comforted her.
Bill left West Bloomington about a year before we left. He'd taken on the role of Area Pastor for the Free Church and was moving to Nebraska. His reason for leaving was because he wanted to pastor pastors. His heart was always for coming alongside and helping others, and he felt there was a great need for this ministry of pastoring those who were pastors. I remember that last Sunday sitting in his office. Tears streamed down my face as I knew I was losing his influence in my life. I've missed him greatly these past 30+ years.
The practice of pastoring is not as it once was, especially in this day of large, mega churches. Pastoral duties are viewed as a duty to be delegated to other staff members. It may be more efficient this way as Senior Pastor duties are huge in these mega congregations. It saddens me that this is occurring.
My own experiences in the 32 years since we left Minnesota have made me realize how special this man was. I've had some tough times here and often felt alone facing some of these troubles. In my grief at Bill's passing, as I recall now, I am brought to the conclusion he really was the last great pastor I've had.
Well done, faithful servant. You will be missed greatly by this man here in Sacramento. I look forward to seeing you one day when I get to go home.
