mr. smith, a thunder in the desert
Ronnie Smith sent me that verse in an email replying to something I had written to him more than five years ago. Ronnie was killed in Libya on December 5th, 2013, as he was jogging by the American Consulate. He was shot by four men, and killed instantaneously. He went to Libya to teach a generation he believed in, a field he saw to be harvested.
Now he's in the heavenly city with Jesus. Probably asking to ride the white horse. And his wife Anita and little son Hosea are here.
I really cared about him, loved him even, but I was not one of his closest friends. Which would have been weird, since he was 13 years younger than me, and a guy. However, we were in ministry together for about 7 years, many of those leading prayer together. You find out a lot about someone by praying with them. We rarely prayed for each other; our prayers were for the church, for the city.
One of my first memories of Ronnie was at a prayer gathering we went to for the city at First Evangelical Free when their church building was off of Red River Street. There were probably about 15 intercessors from around the city gathered to pray. I think I was sitting on the floor, a normal thing for me at the time. I remember Ronnie pacing the room. Most people prayed on and off sitting in their chairs. Ronnie paced silently, until at one point towards the end he prayed passionately for people to know Jesus. It was a reflection of his character that he even came; he had to have been about 24 years old but was hanging out with mostly older women to pray. He was out of there like a shot when it was over.
He was sarcastic as I am. We were both born in Michigan and we bonded over that. He apologized more than once for his sarcasm when we gathered to pray at the school before church. Some people didn't think sarcasm and prayer mixed, but I think Jesus thought we were funny.
One of things we did right as a prayer ministry, was to learn to prefer one another in prayer. We had a group from different backgrounds, different theologies coming to a church that later became known as Calvinist. Ronnie had a Pentecostal upbringing, I came from a home that was a mixture of charismatic, Methodist and Lutheran. Another leader had an Episcopal background. But we learned to listen to each other, to pray together and to listen to what God was saying for the church.
Some people prayed so quietly you could barely hear them. Some had a lot to say, others not so much. We cried, we laughed. Some asked when we were going to go pray with Chris Tomlin. I will always cherish those times, as I know others do too.
I remember one Easter, I think it was in 2005, that I had a conversation with Ronnie in the hallway of the school. We were leaning up against the lockers in the hallway outside the gym before the service started. He had just begun to read John Piper's books, and Jonathan Edward's sermons as well. He was passionate about the cross being God's plan to bring himself glory first and foremost. It was like a light bulb had gone off. I saw Ronnie grow in passion as his beliefs aligned with Calvinism and the fire already lit in him grew dangerously bright.
Ronnie was a good looking guy, with eyes that often mirrored his feelings and thoughts. Filled with the Holy Spirit, his eyes were also intense with passion. I often told him to stop looking at me with his Jesus eyes. That he was going to make me cry. That made him laugh. Our names were linked because of ministry on our church website and other church prayer leaders would think we were married Smiths. That also made him laugh. "Like being married to my mother," he would say. All of us would have dinner together on various occasions. I remember going to his house for dinner when our boys were just little. Ronnie windexed his glass dinner table before and after we ate on it, his table perfectly set. He was a little OCD and I think he thought our boys were going to trash his place. He swore at the time he would never have kids. I'm so glad he did.
I lost close contact with Ronnie after we left the Austin Stone. But he was one of the few who contacted me as we were making the decision to move on to other things, other churches. I won't forget that. By that point, Ronnie was on staff and no longer leading the prayer ministry. Many people remember his sermons, I especially remember one he gave that was scripture memorized and it brought him to tears - more like sobs - as he preached about God's grace. He was the real deal.
I found out the news about Ronnie from my friend Vicky Porterfield, a woman who taught me most everything I know about prayer. Actually, she didn't tell me, but left a voicemail. I was Christmas
shopping with my dad on December 5th, and Vicky called twice in two hours while we shopped. I listened to her message in my car and heard the words, "Anne, I just wanted to call and see if you had heard about Ronnie Smith."
I hung up. I thought about what I knew about Ronnie, his fearlessness, his extreme call to follow Jesus anywhere. I did not know he was in Libya but I knew he was in the Middle East. I had a 90 minute drive home. I didn't want to call anyone while I drove. But God spoke to my heart as I drove. I started to get texts to call people back, several asking me if I was at home.
When I walked in the door, Steve was standing there. I said I didn't want to know. He told me anyway. We both cried, and then I went to another part of the house to be alone. A place I could just share some tears with Jesus.
We went to Chick-fil-a that night and had a peppermint milkshake with our boys, and told Syd and Ben stories about Ronnie. Because Ronnie's story is not a sad one. I think about him and his family almost constantly. In the few days that have followed, I have prayed for Anita and Hosea and his students, as so many are. I am brought to tears every day by his death. I am actually so proud of his ferocious bravery and most of all love for his students who need to know Jesus. That needed to know a man like Ronnie Smith who could embody Christ and yet be a real person. A really funny, loving, passionate man. A man who was okay with being killed for knowing Jesus.
Mr. Smith, you can now look at Jesus with your Jesus eyes. And because of you, I believe and pray many more will. I will see you again and it will be one happy day.
"I'm thunder in the desert: 'Make the road straight for God!' I'm doing what the prophet Isaiah preached." John 1:23, the Message