Remembering Steve
There has been much LOSS the past few months. Loss of health. Loss of normalcy. For many, the loss of a job and the financial stability that goes with it.
As a church family, we continue to deal with the loss of life we are grieving. As many of you remember, we celebrated the life of Steve Crookall back in April. Since then, we had a few letters submitted, memorials really, that honored Steve.
They are printed below. Take some time to read through these words about Steve. It is a reminder of the Lord’s great love for all of His children. It is a reminder of how we are all Image Bearers. It is a reminder of the power behind the words of Matthew 25.
Mars Hill,
I have wrestled about what to write to you about, as we are separated. What do I wish I could talk to you about in person? Well, there are many things, but I think this is what I want to say.
Tonight, I am missing a dear soul that passed from this life into eternity. He seemed to be a kind and gentle soul, though he would tell you tales of a different man. Steve was a man that honestly, I didn’t know very much about. He was an enigma to me and much of our church family. He walked through our church doors and made eye contact with a fortunate few. Tonight, I am searching for evidence or clues of some sort. I want so badly to know where his soul is tonight. Did he open his eyes in heaven on Easter morning? What glory? I couldn’t even imagine. Or, did his life here on Earth and the choices he made, disqualify him from what could seem to some to be evidence of a life lived in unbelief? Steve’s presence unnerved young mothers, surprised others, and to be completely honest, wasn’t the best advertisement for a God that can save and change lives from one form to another…. At least from what my eyes can see. He was stuck in his besetting sins. As am I.
Steve had the sweetest smile. I loved the way he finally became comfortable enough that I got a hug and smile from him every time we met. When he and I would make eye contact, He would smile and say… “there she is… how are you luv?” Steve gave me the gift of acceptance and didn’t know or care if I was worthy of it. Sometimes, not knowing what else to say, I would ask how his week had been. I would always inwardly wince. I mean, how did I think it had been? But Steve would always respond in a positive manner, with a big smile. He would say…. “I made it here today so it was a good week.” or, “well, I am not in jail today... I am blessed.” Never a grumble or a complaint. Typically, I was always the more awkward one in the conversation.
Steve always declined any food, unless I would sit and eat with him. I am sure that he may have struggled with coming around for what he could get from us at some point, after all, many of us (who have homes) come to church for what we get much of the time if we are honest with ourselves. But Steve never asked me for anything. And honestly, I didn’t give him much. Oh! how I wish I could share lunch with him one more time. I would be more intentional about my conversation. I would be less self -conscious, I would be more accepting of him as he were of me. Or at least I hope I would be.
Steve was comfortable at Mars Hill. I remember one week when it had been particularly rainy outside for days on end, he came to a mid-week class held on campus and slept through the class. Not just slept… but snored. Loudly! I was not in there, and I could still hear him from the next room. I was so grateful that he felt safe enough to rest.
Steve was a giver. Being on staff, I was asked about Steve’s identity many times, by many different people, with many different motives. I found myself becoming somewhat defensive of Steve and his place at Mars Hill. I began to think of myself as his protector. (How silly that would have seemed to Steve, had he known.) In one such instance, a member asked who the gentleman was that came to church dirty and smelling of alcohol. I could tell that they were somewhat embarrassed to ask, and then, they added that he had hugged them that morning. I began to become (politely) defensive, and make excuses for my friend. But when the conversation continued, they told me that one day Steve was sitting in the lobby and when they came in for church, he walked over and handed a What-a-Burger gift card to them. This was not at all how I expected the conversation to turn. “And you know what,” they said, “it was at the exact time when my family was really struggling, and I didn’t know what we were going to eat for dinner that night, and so I accepted it… gratefully.” I was stunned. We thanked God together for the gift God had provided through Steve. I repented for judging this person’s motives.
God used Steve to show me my own heart on more than one occasion. Many times, my generosity was much more about me than Steve. And I am thankful to God for letting me see that. I am trusting that God is making that new in my heart, along with many other things.
Steve died this week. On Holy Saturday.
He had been hit by a car in late March, and with the complicated situation of Covid-19 there were no visitors allowed at the hospital anyway, so even if I had known, there was nothing that I could have done. I was thankful that he was alive; I was afraid his lack of an advocate would result in subpar treatment. I was thankful that he had a bed; I was afraid he did not know anyone was looking for him. I was thankful he was being fed; I was afraid he would become infected with Covid-19. I was thankful he was found…. I was afraid he lost. I was a mess. I prayed for God to visit him there… when I couldn’t. I reminded myself to be relieved, as I was told that he was broken up pretty bad but he was going to be ok.
And then… he wasn’t.
He was finally able to get the surgery he needed, and he died from complications from surgery. A surgery that people make it through all the time. Again, I start to analyze. Maybe God allowed this or that for this reason or, that reason. Maybe Steve would never surrender. Maybe Steve had surrendered to Christ. Maybe he had surrendered, but then would not be able to live up to it…., so God just took him. Oh! the horrible theology I create as I engrave my own images of God. As if I or anyone has ever been able to live up to the perfection of Salvation. Oh! the terrible disservice I do to a Holy God. I have asked His forgiveness. He is Holy! He is Righteous and He is Good. Period.
So, in the in-between time, of now and when I enter into eternity, I imagine there will be feelings much like those of the early followers of Christ on the day of His death… the first Holy Saturday. I am sure they wondered… Is he really dead? Was this a trick and he is alive? What did all of this mean? Were my efforts wasted? Were they effective? Did He know I cared? Did God? All questions I bet they asked, much like myself in this situation. And they got their answer the next day. It is an answer of HOPE and PEACE and UNSPEAKABLE JOY. And because of that Saturday, I can wait. And I can hope… and I can put my faith, not in myself, not in Steve, not in a church that treated him well…. But rather place my Trust in a God that can be trusted far more than any of those things! I can trust God even when I can’t explain Him. I can trust him to know the answers that I do not. Sadly, I do not know if Steve ever surrendered. But I am going to choose to hope. And I pray that one day I will see Steve again… praising… fist held high, fully surrendered to the One who loved Steve the most.
Mars Hill, I miss you!
I trust you to the One who loves you most!
Blessings!
Bekki B.
Ten years ago, my family, which included my husband and I and my daughter, Gabrielle and son Jonathan, started going downtown weekly with our church, Dayspring, to feed the homeless. The first person my daughter, Gabrielle, met was Steve Crookall, but knew him first by his nickname, Hogan. He really got to know her and she filled his thermos with extra tea to take with him.
bMy husband, Kevin first remembered Steve telling him, one Thanksgiving week, well you get to go be with your lovely family while we are all on the streets. It stuck with us. I cannot even begin to remember when we started taking Steve to church, but it was after we stayed behind one Tuesday night at St. Louis Baptist where we fed the homeless, sharing Christ with him. He only said he couldn't believe, and wanted God to show Himself to him.
We had many talks with him, explaining the Gospel. We asked if he wanted to attend church with us and he began to go weekly. We would rush trying to go downtown to get him, then back to West Mobile, and he called me a backseat driver because I would tell my husband to hurry so we wouldn't be late. When we would get to church he lagged behind us going in the sanctuary, to make his coffee, always moving slowly at his own pace! I would get so frustrated because I didn't want him to miss anything, as I knew he needed Christ.
He enjoyed our lights and music during worship and would say "Rock and Roll" with his fist in the air. He would go to lunch with us and we really enjoyed his personable way, and he was always pleasant with us, and Steve never asked for anything. He was appreciative of anything you did. He enjoyed Morrison's like me and loved the fish, but he always carried around his hot sauce! He told us about his family who hailed from England. We knew he had many brothers and was a twin.
He called my daughter and also me, and we both had many long conversations with him which included us testifying of all that God had done for us and explaining how you receive Christ by Faith. So many times I felt he was close. Once he called us and was excited about an experience he had with a girl dressed in white and was trying to lead him the right way. It really seemed real to him and to us.
He became such a beloved friend to us! My daughter invited him to her wedding and he came as did another friend from downtown. I smile as I remember how I was told he piled his plate with the Shrimp and Grits, and he used the charger instead of our fancy blue and white dishes! I never got any of those Shrimp and Grits because I think he even got seconds! I was happy he enjoyed that! He also really LOVED my Mississippi Mud. He said he didn't eat most desserts but he loved the marshmallow.
Steve finally decided to leave the downtown area and stayed around the Mall. He would catch the bus to our homeless dinner on Tuesday nights, and we would drive him back to the mall. He would disappear sometimes and wouldn't have a phone, and I can remember us being so concerned once when he was missing for so long. We found out that he had been in Jail for panhandling. He only started holding a sign once he left downtown. Just held a sign...I couldn't believe that was illegal. When he moved to Dauphin Street, we lost touch with him more. He did call us and attended our Tuesday night some a few months back after getting out o jail again. He had built up his food stamps and wanted us to have a Barbecue at my daughter's house, but then we lost touch again. I am so sorry that Barbecue didn't happen.
Recently, my husband Kevin and I started looking for him on the weekends. We spent time in February talking to him and also right before his accident. We couldn't find him and inquired about him to the young lady at Circle K and she told me of his accident. It was a scary few days as we knew there had been someone killed on I-65, then found out he was in the hospital with 2 broken legs. We were so relieved! When my daughter called me the night before Easter crying and told me he passed away I just couldn't believe it! We had hoped he would recover.
Now we all grieve for him and memories have flooded my mind. I can hear him now calling us "Love" I can hear him say "That would be lovely" if you offered him anything. I can see him saying "Rock and Roll" the memories are so many and so precious. I only pray in that hospital he heard all of our words, all of the words of his friends at Mars Hill, I pray the messages he heard preached, the messages in the songs he heard, I can only hope and pray he heard them again and reached out to find the God who led us to him, to all try to help him in any way we could, the ones who found Steve to be a friend and a very nice person, though he struggled with an addiction to alcohol. We may never know now on this earth, but maybe one day we will find yes our words did touch him and he found Christ in his most desperate hour.
Mary Lynn Rabon
Steve “Hogan” was the first person I met as a teenager going to feed the homeless with my church downtown. He liked to laugh and called everyone “love”. He liked for me to fill up his water bottle every week with sweet tea and he had a special love for the Mississippi Mud my mom made. He’d fist pump and say “rock and roll” and ask us for a ‘taxi cab ride’ back to where he stayed. We took him to church for several months and went out to eat for lunch after. He was like part of the family, and we truly enjoyed spending time with him and lunch was always fun.
He came to our wedding and loaded up on shrimp and grits, and ate off the charger instead of the china plate. It is a funny memory that sticks out in my mind but I was so happy and honored that he was able to come. We knew Steve for over 10 years and miss him so much already. He was a close friend who we loved dearly and it is hard to believe he is gone. It’s been like losing a family member. He had expressed interest in God and I know he enjoyed going to church. He even told us about spiritual visions he had so I know God was trying to reach him. He had so many people who loved him and he spoke so fondly about Mars Hill and all of the friends he made there. He talked about being able to go camping for weeks! I know we will all continue to miss him, and I think he knew he was loved by so many.
-Gabrielle Rabon Waldrop
The Celebration of Life to memorialize Steve was on Livestream and is still available for viewing by clicking HERE.