Guest Blog By Kris Bearss, Executive Editor/Worthy Publishing
Regardless of the changes that occur in the months ahead, the book publishing industry will always be centered around words. We are a community that celebrates, believes in, and stands by the power of both the word and The Word. So when a gracious wordsmith like Calvin Miller leaves this world for “the better realm,” as he called it, we are all a little lesser for it.
This past weekend, we lost Calvin—one of Christian publishing’s true craftsmen—to complications from heart surgery, and now our literary world will be a touch less poignant than it was before, like a well-crafted sentence that is missing its adjective.
On a personal level, though I only knew Calvin for the final 17 months of his life, he made a distinct impression on me and the rest of the Worthy team. We’d known of his industry accomplishments—which were many; been shaped for years by his literary prowess and spiritual insight—which was extensive; but what we didn’t know until we had the chance to work with him was how fully engaged he was in LIFE! His final months were not punctuated with an uncertain question mark or a run-of-the-mill period. Rather, he concluded his final earthbound chapter as I suspect he lived his every day: with an exclamation point.
Curious, excited, and very much alive, Calvin enthusiastically approached his writing, his relationships, his faith with a gusto that I often wish I had—and with a humility that I hope to emulate. He was caring, kindhearted, sweetly funny, genuinely interested in others . . . and a man of God who was minus all the pretension of someone who sold more books in his career than almost any Christian author living today.
I can’t say how God rewards His faithful scribes in heaven. Perhaps with a pen that never runs dry, a thesaurus with perfectly appointed words, and a heart that is ever full of inspiration. But this I do know: Calvin Miller shepherded the words that heaven supplied as no other ever will, searching for those scurrilous creatures on the high plains until they were found, rescuing them from the desert of superficiality, freeing them from the valley of apathy, and then herding them onto the lush pastures of finished pages bearing his name. Pages that all pointed to the Name that is above all names. And in the process, he led everyone who read him to the refreshing waters of belief, reassurance, and a Grace not of this earth.
Having previously been hospitalized for heart trouble, he lived with the awareness that eternity is only a step away. And in his final book, aptly called Letters to Heaven (which Worthy had the honor of publishing), he sought to take care of things the only way he knew how: Through the written word. Through letters that might complete the unfinished business of this life. Through personal missives that encouraged readers to write their own thank yous and wonder ifs.
Meanwhile, he held out for us all the hope that awaits.
For Calvin, on Sunday, August 19, 2012, his hope was realized. A sweet reality no longer the stuff of mere dreams. A lifelong confidence undeniably fulfilled.
Those of us who wrangle words for a living will never be able to replicate his ability to “make verbs dance and nouns sing,” as Max Lucado described his gift. But the one thing we can do is, I believe, the one thing he would ask us to do—whether we sell words or pitch them, design words or write them, edit words or print them. I think Calvin would say: “Make sure you end your story with an exclamation point.”
He sure did. Personally and professionally.
On the last page of Letters to Heaven, Calvin told of having heard the pale horse of death stomping his steel hooves, restless in his stable. “I am a shy equestrian,” he wrote, “yet I am not afraid. I have waited all my life for this ride. . . . This is my coronation day!”
Here’s to you, Calvin. We miss you already, dear friend. But we celebrate your life too, realizing that, as C. S. Lewis said in The Last Battle, “Now at last [you are] beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read.”