Memorializing

Friday Roundup for October 10, 2025

Two weeks ago, a friend called to tell me he was in the hospital with horrible-sounding symptoms I won’t describe here. He had been diagnosed as having a severe colon infection and was on IV antibiotics. Due to a number of scheduling problems, I was not able to get to the hospital to see him but stayed in almost daily contact with him by phone.

A week ago Monday night, we spoke by phone and he sounded awful but told me they were finally going to do a colonoscopy on him the next afternoon. That seemed like good news. I told him I would be eager to hear the results. If he had to have surgery, he said, would I come sit with him. I said absolutely I would.

The next afternoon came and went, and I heard nothing from Greg. I assumed the colonoscopy must have happened late in the day and he was too groggy to call, so I waited. The next day, I called and the call went straight to voicemail. Odd for him. I called continuously for six days and the same thing happened every time.

Dread began to fall on me. I was paralyzed and couldn’t figure out what to do.

Greg has an elderly father who is on hospice care in another part of the state. He’s single, lives alone, doesn’t work in a big office, and I don’t know any of his other friends. When I called the hospital to inquire about him, all the information clerk could tell me was that he had been “discharged.”

After six days of worry, another friend finally suggested I call the apartment complex where Greg lives. I did that, explained the reason for my call and told the person on the other end of the line my friend’s full name.

Silence.

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the woman said quietly, “but he passed.”

And due to privacy regulations, that’s all she could tell me. I left my name and phone number with her and asked if she might get a message to whoever was making arrangements and ask them to call me. They still have not done so.

A resourceful friend with access to more data than me found two listings of possible relatives of my friend. One of the numbers I believed to be his aged father. So I called that number and an elderly woman answered. I still don’t know who she was, but after I proved to her I actually knew Greg, she told me he’s “no longer with us.” And that’s pretty much all I got from her, except that he had been cremated and no service was planned that she knew of.

My resourceful friend mentioned above came to the rescue again and said, “Don’t you know a lot of funeral directors?” Well, duh, yeah I do. So I called the one I know the best and left him a detailed voicemail.

Hours later, he called me back. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but Mr. Phariss is in our care.” In a city the size of Dallas, what are the odds that my friend’s remains would end up in the care of another friend?

This brought me comfort but still not answers. Again, due to privacy concerns, my funeral director friend could only tell me the date of death — the day after I had last talked to Greg by phone. Again, I asked if he might pass my name and phone number to whoever was his contact person and he said he would try.

There is so much about this story that bothers me, even haunts me.

Why didn’t I get to the hospital to see my friend in person? What happened to him? Did the infection turn septic? Did he bleed out during the colonoscopy? Did he die alone? Why wasn’t I on his emergency contact list? I thought I was. If I hadn’t talked to him the night before, I wouldn’t have known to follow up about the colonoscopy. Why was I — a resourceful pastor for 17 years — so paralyzed in finding information this time?

“I feel like my friend just disappeared.”

I feel like my friend just disappeared. I talked to him on the phone one day and he was gone the next — and I didn’t even know it for more than a week. Not only was he dead, but there was no memory of him to be shared. He’s just gone.

I’ve been processing this with other friends — who didn’t know Greg — and I’ve used the occasion to urge some of them to take better care of themselves. Losing a dear friend prematurely and unnecessarily is awful.

I’m sad because the small number of friends Greg had don’t know each other; I wonder how many others like me still don’t know he’s gone. I’m sad because Greg attended a church but likely wasn’t on the membership rolls — for a variety of good reasons — and it’s possible no one there knew to check on him or will know he’s passed. I’m sad because there’s no way to memorialize him or grieve with others who loved him.

None of this is the world I normally live in. It is foreign to me. And yet I realize this is the reality for millions of people who live alone and have limited family connections. That, too, makes me sad.

I’ve thought more empathetically about immigrant families whose loved ones are being disappeared by ICE these days and no one else seems to care. I’ve thought of the nameless-to-us federal employees and teachers and others who are just disappearing from sight due to the cruelty of the Trump administration, which is spreading a deadly virus of hate far and wide — and it doesn’t make the evening news or the online newspaper.

I’ve thought a lot more about how we’re struggling to grieve the loss of things we can’t even articulate — ideals of freedom and faith and community. The national losses we’re experiencing are coming so fast and happening with such deceit that we have trouble numbering or naming them.

And yet we must name them.

One of the key concepts of grief is that we must name it. We must identify it and address it.

Another friend asked me at lunch this week regarding BNG’s expanded content, “How much is enough content?” I explained to him that one of the things we must do is document current events, even if only a few people read some of those articles. Not every article we publish will get tens of thousands of readers, but some will. But every article we publish documents something important that happened, puts down a marker and serves as a memory for days to come.

In that sense, we are memorializing current events, meaning we are preserving memories. We are witnesses.

Our Clemons Fellow, Mara Bim, has written several pieces about bearing witness to the cruelty of the Trump administration’s ICE agents here in Dallas. And now we’re publishing articles about even more cruel treatment happening in Los Angeles, Portland and especially Chicago.

We must bear witness when ICE agents attack peaceful pastors who are praying for God’s kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. Rick Pidcock laid this hypocrisy bare in an outstanding piece apologizing to white evangelicals for not believing them when they warned the government one day would attack Christians. That day is here but the irony is the government is supported by the very evangelicals who feared they would be attacked.

Do not miss this story. And do not miss the companion piece written by Jeff Brumley about how this Chicago pastor has joined journalists in suing the Trump administration to stop its physical assaults on those bearing witness to their cruelty.

The photo of Pastor David Black being shot by ICE agents, captured by Ashlee Rezin of the Chicago Sun-Times, should win a Pulitzer. It will become one of the iconic photos of this era.

Together, we must continue to bear witness to the truth, and we must document the lies and cruelty and immorality of the present regime. This is no longer partisan in the sense of political parties, but it is partisan in the sense of what is right and what is wrong.

We’re each a small part of the storytelling, but even as small parts we have stories to tell. Ashley Robinson sums this up well in a piece calling us to sail our small crafts into the flotilla of God’s justice.

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In other news this week:

André Trocmé was a devoted follower of Jesus and a Protestant pastor in a small French village who saw World War II as a chance to live out the truths of the gospel. His story is now told in full in a new book.

Franklin Graham has quit a financial accountability group his father helped found.

The battle over Louisiana’s Ten Commandments law took a new turn this week as the Fifth Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals took the rare step of saying the full court will rehear the case.

Donald Trump recently celebrated his role as “the most pro-faith and pro-religious liberty president in American history” by issuing a little-noticed list of his “Top 100 Victories for People of Faith.”

Giving to the Southern Baptist Convention’s Cooperative Program unified budget has declined in seven of the past 10 years, with receipts for the year just ended being 4.4% less than a decade ago.

The Trump administration now faces litigation to block its new $100,000 fee on employer-sponsored nonimmigrant visas.

Churches in Wisconsin are now eligible for property redevelopment grants from a program organizers hope will spread to other states.

In a plea agreement announced Oct. 2, Gateway Church founder Robert Morris pleaded guilty to five felony counts of lewd or indecent acts with a child.

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In other analysis this week:

Rodney Kennedy introduces us to Peter Thiel, who is a walking enigma and a prominent purveyor of apocalyptic visions.

Rick Pidcock explores what is “the church” and what is “Communion” in light of Christian nationalist leaders claiming both labels for their own out-of-church purposes.

Diversity of views among Christians is nothing new, according to Andrew Garnett, who says sometimes history doesn’t rhyme.

Dan Day calls us to honest discourse.

Trump held a roundtable this week about the threat of “antifa,” so Rodney Kennedy explains how this is a made-up boogeyman advanced by Trump’s own marketing skills.

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In other opinion this week:

Cara Meredith acknowledges there are barriers to overcome in accepting Sarah Mullally as the new archbishop of Canterbury, but she still has hope.

The U.S. Supreme Court heard oral arguments this week in a case that could upend state laws against conversion therapy. Jonathan Greer knows how dangerous this practice can be and explains why this case matters.

Robert P. Jones says we need to look back at all the bright lines we’ve already crossed as a nation.

The Trump Educational Compact is an attack on the free exercise of progressive religion, according to Chris Caldwell.

Michael Chancellor urges us to separate fact from fantasy as we separate church and state.

James Ellis III says it’s time we talk about godliness.

Josh Olds says evangelicalism’s theology of victory erases necessary lament.

Stacy Dandridge offers a word of thanks for her mentor, Gina Stewart.

Brad Bull says churches should cancel services and small groups for snow and ice but not to avoid difficult conversationsabout current events.

Jonathan Walton explains what he’s learned about himself, his religion and the world since October 7, 2023.

Cathy Anderson is finding herself while drifting on the River of God in a pink float.

Richard Conville reflects on the 100th anniversary of T. S. Eliot’s poem The Hollow Men.

Andry Shirin says the oppressor-oppressed lenses offer a truncated view of the world.

Kevin Liverpool says the manosphere co-opts religion especially for young men.

A final word

That’s it for another crazy week. We hosted our BNG board of directors in Dallas this week and had the best meeting we’ve had since the pandemic. We’re thriving in difficult times thanks to your financial support and your readership. Thanks to all who are making this possible.

By the way, you can find the full list of our board of directors on our website here.

See you next week!

Mark Wingfield
Executive Director and Publisher
Baptist News Global