Monday, March 19, 2007

remembering an annointed friend




The following text is something I wrote about a friend who left this planet 32 years ago. I had been asked by an old camp acquaintance Marsha Scarborough to gather some information about Emory for a scholarship they are beginning this summer to honor him at Bethlehem Camp down in Bonifay, FL. Last week Marsha emailed and asked if I would send her Emory's birth and death dates for a plaque she is having made. I couldn't recall so I asked my mother last Friday if she remembered the dates. She in turn asked my sister Florrie who has an incredible memory. Today my mother handed me the dates written on a piece of paper. Right after she handed it to me, it dawned on her that Emory's death was exactly thirty two years ago today. Sure enough, on the paper it read March 19, 1975. God winks.

...I was just a kid, the youngest member of the fellowship at the time. I have asked Irene Elrod, Brooky Finlayson, Don and Jennie Rakestraw to correct me if I am wrong with any of the facts. No one to date has really made any major corrections to this telling. The following is my eulogy for Emory. It took me well over twenty years to finally come to a place where I could write it.
Emory Lloyd Boggs
Born: August, 16th, 1952
Died: March 19, 1975

Emory Boggs' death was a blow to us all. I still to this day have a difficult time sorting through the debris of memories. I remember walking down the halls of Emma Samson in a daze after mother phoned with the news that Emory was dead. I remember passing classroom doors, hearing the dull drone of teacher's voices, rustling paper and the sounds only a school desk could make on a dirty tile floor. Each room was like a capsule filled with life, unaware of my surreal reality caused by a terrible grief. I paced down those long halls, and leaned into drab green walls that kept me from crumbling to the floor. Emory was dead. Emory was dead.

It's a shame that he suffered such a violent end. A life so good, so sweet does not need be remembered with such bitterness. Emory got the Zippy Mart job so he could work his way toward seminary, become a preacher and marry my sister Irene. The seventeen year old black kid didn't know that. Who knows why he threw gas on Emory and lit a match. This was long before Rodney King, the L.A. Riot, and so called Black Rage. It was during a time when an incident of this nature still shocked people. The boy said he was just trying to scare the clerk. He said that he didn't think the fumes would ignite. He said he didn't mean to. It still grieves me to think what Emory must have gone through during those hours left alone and in pain on the cement floor of that back room. Sometime during the early morning hours he crawled to the middle of the store where his cries could be heard and he could be seen. Later in the morning, as the sun rose, a young woman discovered Emory’s charred body and called for help.

Mom woke me up with the news that Emory was badly burned and had been sent to the Birmingham Burn Center. It sounded bad but I was an optimistic kid. I wasn't expecting to be called out of class. I wasn't expecting the telephone call waiting for me in the school office later that day. My brother Brooky rode down with Emory in the ambulance. He could tell the story better and with greater accuracy.

Emory lay talking and praying. Brook said that Emory was very calm and talked to Jesus as if he were sitting beside him . . . I believe He was. He said. "Lord, please don't hold that boy accountable for doing this. Please don't hold this against him." It was a sad yet beautiful thing. That black, charred, unrecognizable twenty two year old man who could love as Christ in his final day. It was Jesus saying "Father forgive them for they know not what they do." You had to know Emory. For Emory, that was not a hard story to believe. His prayer kept me from hating the kid with the match. It kept me from years of hard feelings. If Emory could love and forgive his murderer, I could too. Here, the very essence and compassion of Christ bled through as Emory's final witness.

I remember my dad not liking Emory around the house at first. He didn't like the idea of that long hair rock and roll hippie hanging around his precious virgin daughter. Personally I thought Emory looked more like a bubble gum Bobby Sherman type but to my dad's generation they were all pretty wild looking. Things changed dramatically one week when Emory tagged along on a family trip to camp meeting. He went along to spend time with my sister Irene. He thought he would spend days romantically romping along the shores of Florida with her. I think everyone mis-perceives their first experience of camp meeting. Emory had never been to a holiness camp before, the sinners spiritual death-camp. Two hours into the first day and you're dreading the next nine.

Call it love or call it stranded, but Emory stayed and was eventually and dramatically saved. Emory testified later that God literally pushed him out from among the pews and into the aisle during the alter call. I can attest to his testimony because I was sitting in the pew behind him. The neat thing about his salvation experience is that he gave everything to the Lord. He really did. Most of us (myself included) hold onto crap that we think we can't live without. Emory did what few people do. He took God's Word literally. He was truly born again. He got rid of the old wine skins. He took up his cross and followed. It made perfect sense to him, that if he was to be saved, he had to empty his cup completely in order for it to be filled by the Holy Spirit completely. God didn't straighten Emory out, He bent him forward.

When Emory's life changed, so did the world around him. Emory had a desire to know everything he could about his Savior. He wanted everyone around him to experience the forgiveness and compassion from God that he had experienced. It wasn't long before Emory was called to preach. His sermons were as sincere and simple as his daily walk. I am sure that he would be the same fellow if he were alive today. Emory would've kept his faith real and warm. I never knew anybody that could love folks into the kingdom like Emory could. He loved people everywhere he went. People seemed to gravitate toward him.

My father quickly grew close to Emory. He was eventually loved as a son, and in death he was mourned as a son. The whole family loved him for that matter. He became my other brother and it took years to deal with his loss. So many lives touched in that short time. His coffin was surrounded by so many strange faces. It amazed me that this young man could touch so many lives within such a short span of time. If it were not for immediate family, I would have thought I was at the wrong service. The multitude present bore witness to the fact that it was not just I who thought this life precious.

The last fragment I'll write is this. Emory was part of a fellowship. We had a coffeehouse that he helped start and named F.R.E.E House. It was a coffeehouse that strangers came and got loved on in Jesus’ name. I remembered some of his friends sitting around consoling each other. There were less than a dozen that day. We were talking about him and I remember a friend saying something to the effect that "God knew Emory would die young and that's why God gave his life such an unusual faith." I disagreed. I told her that I thought Emory had such a simple theology of letting go completely . . . so God could do His work completely. Do we not all have that very potential when we are surrendered as instruments?" To say that it was impossible for me to live and die the same way was something that I would not accept. I won't let anyone take that hope from me.

His death was over twenty five years ago and he still steps into conversations from time to time. A few weeks ago I was treating my nieces to pizza when they asked me about him. I was around their age when he was killed and thought it neat that he was being remembered by those who had never met him. I was surprised that they knew almost as much as I did. There wasn't much that I could tell them that they didn't already know. They, I think, remember Emory mostly because of the tragic story of his death. I think those who knew him could agree to the following thought. Here is a great example of what God can do to a surrendered heart. If we can let go, our lives would be as fragrant too.

-David B. Finlayson

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

I loved this! I remember Emory with fondness and appreciate your wonderful thoughts of him!

Laura Hood Nichols

Anonymous said...

I loved Emory. I remember the coffeehouse (it was one of the first Christian things I went to after my conversion). Emory was a peacemaker and a happy guy and a very intense believer. I liked him from the first.
One more note on his life. It is my understanding that Gary is his brother? If that is so, this is yet another statement that the work of his life wasn't over with his death. I just heard from a friend on FB that Gary has become a very intense and committed believer. He was one of the most wildass crazy guys I knew (as well as a feared dude.... he was BAD). If these facts all line up the way I think they do, won't it be a delight when Gary steps across that final threshold and Emory is sitting there winking at him, and we can watch the video tape of Emory praying for him while on this earth? As Hemingway said, isn't it pretty to think so?

David Finlayson said...

Yes Anonymous - I think it's pretty to think so too.

Gary has been a Christian for quite some time now. I get the idea that Gary feels that he is in the shadow of his brother as far as Christian service is concerned. I don't think so. Gary serves His Lord well - and I believe that Gary, like his older brother, will receive a "job well done" from his Heavenly Father.

-a note from Emory-

"the thing that God helps me to do
is take things as they come
and keeps my heart from breaking 'cause
my God's will, will be done

most people cry cause they're afraid
of what will happen next
and all because they didn't heed
what's in the Bible text

our future's in our Savior's hands
if we will let it be
it's not so hard to understand
please pray for others to see

that God is there to hold our hand
and make our darkness light
we'll surely see the promised land
by doing what is right"

-Emory Lloyd Boggs

Anonymous said...

This is a very touching tribute. Sounds like Emory was an incredible person.

David Finlayson said...

he was quite a guy
loved his Lord

the wonderful wells said...

I only knew Emory from afar at camp but I loved him and thought he was so incredible.
I recorded memories by remembering lyrics to songs. I have sung the following song to my children through the years. I think Emory wrote this version of "I'll Fly Away" I somehow think I heard Jeanie, Don and Emory sing it at camp.
I have told my children the story (as I remembered it) that Brooky shared with me about Emory's death.

David, this is a wonderful tribute to Emory. I appreciate you sharing it on your blog.


"When I die, I'm gonna die easy.
And if I live that's OK too.
I know that I'll rest
In the arms of my savior.
I hope I can say the same for you."

I'll fly away old glory,
I'll fly away...
When I die, hallelujah by and by,
I'll fly away.

Does anyone know the rest of the song? It has meant so much to me through the years.

David Finlayson said...

Actually Brook wrote the song 'When I Die'. I'll fly away was used as the refrain. He's still living and can help you with the lyrics of the song.

JoJo said...

David,
this is the first time I have have an opportunity to read your tribute and it is beautiful. My parents lived across the street from the Boggs and dearly loved those children as their own. (In fact, the Bible I use regularly is one Emory sold to my father) I was living in Texas at the time of his death and well remember how sad my parents and my aunt were at that time.

Rosie Preston said...

Many years ago, I met LaRetha Boggs when she was my daughter (Rachel's) cheerleader coach. I don't remember how long it took me to tell her how I'd cried when I read about Emory in the newspaper. My daughter was born in July 1975, so it was just a few months before her birth. Even before she was born, I couldn't imagine losing her.
LaRetha, Gary, and I eventually became friends and they have helped me a lot during the last few years. They have demonstrated faith and love that a few years ago I could not have understood. How do you survive the loss of a love? With God, only with God. For we are far from perfect, but as Emory taught while he lived, it is with Christ's love and forgiveness and we must go on, through love and loss. Only god can get us through the hard times and this family has forgiven the person who took their brother's lives. That to me is the greatest love. To forgive all who have hurt and led you astray. To forgive others is to allow God to forgive us. I love you LaRetha and Gary, and family. Rosie Preston

Rhonda Rowan Cassidy said...

How well I remember this beautiful man, as he was so beautiful inside and out...my sister Darla and I once walked out of a football game with him at Gadsden High School auditorium at a time when racism was at a peak. A couple of black guys looked to be a threat and he just smiled and somehow gracefully sped us through the situation to safety...it was so amazing that you had to know without a shadow of a doubt how different he was. I will never forget his horrific death and know what a wonderful time he must have shared with Irene in knowing her from Westbrook Christian School where our children both attended...but God called him home...his life cut short, his future gone, but yet it is not his death that makes him most remembered but the way he lived his life and the testimony that he was which lended an idea of how it was for Jesus...one who loved so greatly, forgave so easily, died so undeservingly. Our world loved him...I did too. May he be sitting at His feet adoring our Savior...his greatest reward!

Mark Lumpkin said...

As one of the East Gadsden kids that grew up with Emory, I always remember him as someone who never strayed from being your friend. He held himself accountable to a higher power that we ignored at that time. We were always too busy playing ball, having fist fights, making up and playing from daylight to dark. Never worried about bad things happening to any of us. Knowing that Emory forgave his attacker will make it easier for me to pray for him and hope that JESUS will deal with his heart and make something good come from something so bad. Emory, my friend, will always be in my memories of the great days of my childhood. He was and is a great example of what I should strive to be! Mark Lumpkin

Peggy said...

I went to school with Gary, so I knew Emory that way - not personally, just as Gary's brother. I still have the newspaper clipping of the incident. This is a very nice tribute to him.

Peggy (Thomas) King

Bobby said...

I remember when this happened. I didn't know Emory, but was impressed when I heard that he had forgiven the young man. I wasn't living for the Lord in those days and that story made a deep impression on me. Thanks for posting his story.