- 2016 (9)
- 2015 (5)
- 2014 (18)
- 2013 (33)
- 2012 (44)
- 2011 (43)
- 2010 (103)
- 2009 (130)
- 2008 (118)
- Chris Fabry
- Married to Andrea since 1982. We have 9 children together and none apart. Our dog's name is Tebow.
Connect with Andrea
Where We Are Now
After finding and remediating mold twice in our Colorado home, we abandoned ship in October 2008. Because of the high levels of exposure, our entire family was affected. After months of seeing different specialists for all of the problems, we came to Arizona to begin comprehensive treatment to rid our bodies of the toxic buildup. In August 2009 we moved into a larger home, four bedrooms, south of Tucson, north of Mexico. I am doing my daily radio program/ writing from that location. Thanks for praying for us. We really feel it.
My Blog List
Sunday, August 5, 2012
7:40 AM | Posted by Chris Fabry | | Edit Post
We knew this day was coming. Years ago when we began to lose some great Christian leaders my wife said, “What will we do when we lose Don Cole?”
I guess we find out now. What will we do in a world without C. Donald Cole?
First, we give thanks.
Thanks be to God for his gift. Thank you for giving us a man so completely devoted to following Jesus. For his kind, generous heart and his wisdom and that calming, soothing voice.
Second, we ask God to comfort those who loved him and hold them close and give them peace in this storm.
Third, we ask God to make us men and women worthy of knowing him. We ask him not just to comfort, but also to conform us more and more to the image of Christ that we saw in Don Cole.
That was something Don would have said in devotions. He would have said it slowly, deliberately, and by taking off his glasses and putting them into his shirt pocket. He would open the Bible and pull out his glasses again and read a few verses and speak truth. Simple. Clear. To the heart.
Don Cole was not just a voice on the radio to me. He was a real human being with opinions, struggles, and a huge heart for those on the outside of the fold. He also cared about the forgotten inside the fold. What you heard on the radio was what you got in his office or at a Cubs game or over coffee.
Don Cole was a real man. And he showed us that real men could love God and the Bible. He wasn’t a wimp. And he showed us how real men loved their wives, not lording over them, but sacrificing for them. And he laughed. Oh, how he loved to laugh.
Don Cole was the real deal. He knew when to speak his mind, when to gently correct, when to stand up to a bully, and when to listen. His mouth was filled with choice words he used not to win arguments or stump people with his encyclopedic knowledge, but to lead each person closer to the truth, closer to the heart of God.
I’ve met many great Christians over the years. Famous authors, politicians, preachers, power brokers, thinkers, theologians, sports figures, crusaders, and experts. None of them compares with Don Cole. They don’t even come close.
Why? Partly because he was one of a kind. Partly because of the varied experiences he’d had and his ability to use his intellect and spiritual acumen to create a perspective on the news few could render. Partly because of his amazing ability to meld knowledge with passion for people.
But mostly this: the other thinkers and theologians and preachers didn’t walk with us. They came and went. He was there, committed, no matter what. I’m sure he could have moved to a much higher position, could have been president of some Bible college, or something else. He stayed with us. And he considered what he had been called to do the most important thing. For him to do anything else than teaching God’s Word, anything, would have been a step down.
He came to the table with a Bible in one hand and the other outstretched to you. He got down in the trenches, in the muck and mire of life, and walked side by side. The only agenda Don Cole ever had was love.
I grieve for the loss of Don Cole. I grieve for Naomi and the family. I grieve for those too young to hear him and benefit from his wisdom. But mostly I grieve for myself and what I know I have lost and for what I know I’ve gained from having known Don Cole. And for having called him a friend.
I can hear his voice, and I will hear it again one day. He would laugh at the tributes, chuckle and shake his head. And put his glasses away.
Thanks be to God for Don Cole. Comfort those who loved him and make us worthy of knowing him. In the name of Christ, Amen.