Irreplaceable.
That’s the first word that came to mind when my friend David notified me Bill Wright died.
Bill got sick with cancer last fall. At first, the prognosis looked awful, and then it seemed better. But after awhile, Bill’s doctors realized the disease that overpowered his body could whip any medicine they might inject into the fight.
Still, it’s impossible to wrap your mind around the idea that a vibrant, energetic force of nature like Bill Wright could get sick and die.
Bill and I met years ago, when he served on the Texas Baptist State Missions Commission. Bill stood out because of his humor. Well, that and his big, gruff bark of a voice. And his toothy grin.
Weighty business always packed the commission’s agenda. So, we didn’t get a chance to visit long, much less get acquainted, until the time I mentioned I figured I would drive through Plains on a trip to see my grandmother in Roswell, N.M.
“That’s right. You’ll drive straight through Plains,” Bill confirmed. “And if you don’t stop and visit me, I’ll never speak to you again.” He probably said something else about having me drawn and quartered.
When I pulled into Plains, I thought about driving straight through. That would’ve been one of the biggest mistakes I ever could’ve made. I can’t comprehend how much poorer my life would have been without Bill’s friendship.
Bill showed me around the church, and we talked so long (Lord, Bill could talk) that it was getting on toward evening. So, Bill insisted I stay for dinner before heading to Roswell.
Sign up for our weekly edition and get all our headlines in your inbox on Thursdays
We sat in Lalito’s Tex-Mex restaurant for a couple of hours, and then and there I fell in love with Bill Wright. He knew everyone who walked through the door—whether they were Baptist or Catholic or Methodist or nothing. Bill knew their life stories and all about their families. Obviously, Bill loved them all—the whole town. And not surprisingly, they all loved him.
As we talked, I understood Bill loved me, too, and I couldn’t help but love him.
I also grew to respect him enormously. Many times, I told him he’s the most underrated pastor I’ve ever known.
Most folks don’t expect much from small-town churches and their preachers. But with Bill’s leadership—fake-grouchy and full of humor, passion and love for people—First Baptist in Plains became one of the greatest churches anywhere.
I don’t have space to tell you all about Bill and Linda Wright and that church. But they excelled in disaster relief, missions, ministry to the community, worship, Bible study, and also love for God, love for the world and love for each other.
Right now, I can’t comprehend the fact I’ll never pick up the phone and hear that foghorn of a voice ask, “What you doin’, Knox?” But I know thousands of folks will be listening for Bill’s big, burly laugh when we join him in heaven.
We seek to connect God’s story and God’s people around the world. To learn more about God’s story, click here.
Send comments and feedback to Eric Black, our editor. For comments to be published, please specify “letter to the editor.” Maximum length for publication is 300 words.