I met him in 1972 when I started the 7th grade. He was bigger than life and tough and he was my P. E. Teacher at Smithfield High School. We were told to call him Coach Edwards. When you did wrong you pushed. When you messed up you ran. When all else failed there was the hill behind the school buses where you walked down the hill and ran back up. Coach practiced tough love and made you see your potential. He taught that most can start well but would show you that you could also finish well. There were 2 kinds of boys at Smithfield; those who wanted to learn from Coach Edwards and look to him when you had done the job well and those that never wanted to see him again. He was that tough. He was my coach until I moved to Norfolk in the Spring of 1975. When I went to his office and told him my family was moving he stood up from his desk and shook my hand and said, “Keep up the good practice and don’t waste what the good Lord gave you.” I thought that was the last time I’d ever see him. I was fifteen years old.
I finished out my ninth grade year at Norview Junior High School and spent the next 3 years at Norview High graduating in 1978. Got married, had 3 children, seven grand-children and left a 30 year career to go into full time ministry. During all this time, I never forgot the strength and wisdom I’d taken away with me from a man I would forever remember as just, “Coach.” I would share with others the things taught to me by this man. He had a big part of who I was and what I was about so I searched during my walk in life for another that I’d find the integrity and where-withal that Coach had yet knew it in only one other man . . . my Dad.
Fast forward to three and one half years ago and my wife and I were visiting folks who attended Lake Drummond Baptist Church where I had been called as pastor. We stopped in to see a couple in southern Chesapeake and who would have guessed it . . . I was standing in the home of “Coach!” We quickly caught up with each other and I learned what it was about this man that caused me to never forget him. He knew Jesus as his Lord and Saviour when I knew him in the 70’s.
You may ask, so what’s the big deal? There are many in the world just like him. If that were only the case. You see, Coach never told me he was saved. Even back then you couldn’t proselytize in the public school system. Proselytizing is the act of attempting to convert people to another opinion and, particularly, another religion. Coach knew what he could and couldn’t do so he lived it in front of everyone he came in contact with. I’ve since learned that he was a Sunday school teacher. That’s great if I’d have gone but I never set foot in a church before my 16th birthday unless it was for a wedding or funeral. Coach’s life told his story without him ever saying a word. I was too dense to pick it up yet I knew there was something different about him and I wanted it. What a joy it was to rekindle and renew a relationship with him and his dear wife.
On March 8th, 2009, Coach took me by the hand and said he and his wife, Shirley, would like to join our church membership. We had many great times of fellowship and talks whether out by the garden or on a church outing to OBX or just sitting together watching a college basketball game on TV. Coach and I would talk about eternal security and why a lot of people won’t believe or can’t believe. One night when he was struggling with doubt and conviction he and I talked about how one could be sure he was saved. We talked of John 10:27-29 about our salvation not being held by us but by our Savoir, our God, and our Father. We talked of the Holy Spirit sealing us in that salvation from Ephesians 4:30. Then we talked of 1 John 5:13 when John wrote. “These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, . . .” Coach looked up at me and said, “I can live with that.” Yes he did.
Shirley called me Tuesday morning, January 4th, 2011. She was distraught. She told me Ken was gone. He had gone peacefully to his reward about 4:30 in the morning. We talked and I told her I would be right there. I hung up the phone and weeped like a child; not for Coach but for myself. In my selfishness I wanted Coach to be here so I could talk with him and discuss things with him and soak his knowledge from him as a sponge. I imagined what it must have been like for Coach to leave the body that has been harder and harder to control as he has dealt with Parkinson’s Disease over the past couple of years. I dreamed of what happened when he traded his tent in for his mansion. I thought of all the things we’ll have to talk about when we see each other again.
Went to her house. The family was already beginning to gather around her in support. Shirley asked me if I would do the funeral service for Coach. Of course I said I would. I left wondering what to do. I loved this man and asked my heavenly Father to empower me to do His will as we celebrate the life of Coach. Called my Dad and we talked and prayed. This isn’t natural. I told my Dad that doing this funeral will be the closest thing to preaching Dad’s funeral that I’ll ever come close to. Dad told me he and Mom would be praying for me. Sat in my office looking at pictures of Coach and thanked my God for the divine appointment He gave me when Coach and I met again in 2007. Coach was a great man; not because of what he did or because of where he went or because of any other thing the world sees as great. Coach was a great man because of Who he followed.
I coveted your prayers as we celebrated the home-going of Kenneth Paul Edwards, Sr. on Friday at 1:00 PM, January 7th. I love you Coach and eagerly await the day we see each other again. Thank You heavenly Father for one such as this that I had the genuine privilege and honor to know and serve with, in Jesus’ name I pray this with thanksgiving. Amen.