Paying Tribute to a Champion

I once lived in New York and had the chance to meet both of these
stirring preachers. Like millions of others, I was first exposed to
David Wilkerson’s ministry through his book, The Cross and the
Switchblade, but when I began attending the Brooklyn Tabernacle,
I had the enormous privilege of hearing him preach many times. He and
my own pastor, Jim Cymbala, were very close friends. They shared
similar passions—their hunger to know God, compassion for the lost,
and their desire to see the church fully engaged in fulfilling its
calling and mission in the world.

Rev. Wilkerson frequently visited “The Tab.” Often, he was
part of special evangelistic services at the church, and he joined
with us in street meetings all over the city. But even when he wasn’t
around, his presence was felt because we used the film version of his
book as a powerful soul-winning tool and saw hundreds come to Christ
over the years.

In person, he seemed somewhat reserved and unassuming, but
extremely focused. I can remember one of his recurrent themes had to
do with our taking our calling in Christ seriously. He never seemed
to lose sight of the urgent need for men and women to hear the gospel
and come to know Jesus, and he certainly inspired me in this regard.
I never saw him without being mindful of his compassion for the lost
and his passion for the church. Some thought he was angry at times,
but I thought he was heartbroken because he thought the church was
losing its way. He told me during the interview that we were
forgetting our mandate to call men and women to repentance. But he
also told me no one should ever preach repentance until they have a
firm understanding of God’s mercy.

David Wilkerson’s prophetic voice will be missed, but he said
what was important. He shared with the world the wisdom God gave to
him. Thankfully, much of it has been preserved for us. But his
richest legacy won’t be in the collection of works he produced;
it’s in the lives of the people he inspired and those who found
hope in Christ, many of whom had no hope at all before the skinny
preacher with the courage of a lion came to town.

When I ended my interview, I asked him how he wanted to be
remembered. He said, “I don’t think of those things. I really
don’t care. As long as He embraces me when I stand before him, and
says, ‘Well done,’ that’s all.”