Passing of a Mentor

The Revs. Jim Jones, Dennis Ticen & Tom Rough (a few years ago!)

Today, the world lost one of the best, a faithful and committed Christian, a man who made a world of difference for me. Dr. Thomas Rough was the senior pastor at High Street United Methodist Church in Muncie, Indiana, when I was appointed there in June 1993. I was a fresh, wide-eyed seminary graduate, out to change the world with (I admit now) absolutely no idea what I was doing. (Seminary teaches you a lot about theology, the Bible, and administration, but honestly very little about actually being a pastor.)

Tom quickly became a valued mentor and in the two years I got to work under his supervision and sit under his preaching, I learned how to be a senior pastor. Who I am today in many ways is because of Tom.

Early on in my appointment (it may have even been the first day), Tom said something that continues to shape me. I even remember exactly where we were when he said it. He was giving me the "windshield tour" of Muncie, and we were on the north side of the Ball State campus (near his parsonage) when he said, "You know, if this [being a pastor] is not a calling, it will eat you alive." He's been proven right over and over again.

Of the many things I remember, one thing stands out: Tom trusted me. Just a few weeks after arriving at High Street, I was off to camp with the senior high youth. We had a rough week as we got to know each other, but Tom told me through words and actions that he trusted me and he would support me. That doesn't mean he blindly agreed with me every single time. In private, if he disagreed with something I had done or said, he would tell me in a way that both corrected and encouraged me, but in public, we were always a team. He even left for vacation just a couple of months after I arrived, leaving me (an untested, untried, brand new pastor) in charge of a 1500-member church. Well, at least the building was still standing when he got back.

Tom taught me the value of a team. We had a great pastoral team during those years at High Street and every Tuesday morning we met in Tom's office to share the needs and concerns of the congregation. The guidance I received in those meetings was invaluable. In those times, we became more than colleagues; we became friends. Oh—and though my official title at High Street was "Associate Pastor B" (that was what my job description said), Tom never called me that. I don't even ever remember him calling me an "associate." He insisted we were all pastors, all serving Christ and the church together.

Tom was my senior pastor, and later he was my District Superintendent. He was an excellent preacher, and while he was willing to go where he was sent, I know he hated to give up regular preaching to become a superintendent. He was a gifted communicator, though he never thought so. He would describe himself as "a fairly decent storyteller," but all these years later, I still remember many of his sermons. His deepest desire was for all people to know Jesus, and his preaching, teaching and leadership was all aimed toward that purpose.

When I was appointed to my current church, I got a call from Tom shortly after the news was made public. We hadn't spoken for some time, so it was so good to hear his voice. He and his wife, Janet, had just moved back to Indiana after initially retiring to Arizona, and he wanted to call and congratulate me on the new appointment. I will never forget his affirming words: "I don't know the church you're going to, but I know the pastor they're getting, and they are getting a good one." If that's so, Tom, in large part it's because of you.

We talked about getting together again, then I heard through mutual friends he was sick. The last picture I got of him in a Christmas card showed that to be true. He didn't look well, and I should have called, but I didn't. Today, after so many years of faithful service to his Lord and Savior, Jesus, Tom Rough went to be with him. He is healed, but we are the lesser here without him.

At High Street, we had another pastor on staff who passed away, John Paul Jones, and Tom, myself and Larry Whitehead all shared in John Paul's funeral. I have never forgotten Tom's last words at the graveside, and I adapt them here for him: And now, I announce to you the transfer of Tom's membership from the Church Mortal to the Church Triumphant, to the place where there is no more grief or crying or pain or death. Thanks be to God!

Rest well, my friend and mentor. Bask in the presence of the One you served for so long. Thank you for who you were and who you are. I am forever grateful.