By Mike McClymond
12 December 2023

Out of Kenya he came,
With a burning flame behind his plane.
And with fire in his heart, to make a new start,
To bring his family from another nation.
To pastor God’s flock in a new location.

Mbochi was his name, Kikuyu his tribe, he came from the farthest,
But took all his orders from the Lord of the harvest.
To serve God’s people—young, old, black, or white—
With prompt obedience, both day and night.

His beloved wife and children three—
Soon they were with him across the sea.
Mary, Alyssa, Eric, and Joy,
They made a home for him to enjoy.

Not only on Sundays, but each day of the week
Great labors were his, long hours, little sleep.
Rising early to drive downstate and back,
Then to visit, help, counsel, and fill every lack.

What kept him going, each month, every year?
The answer to this seems perfectly clear.
The name of the church that John has founded
Is a clue to his labor and service unbounded.

For “First Love” is not just one of the groups,
It is also a spirit of service that stoops,
To minister to the needs of another,
To treat each stranger as a long-lost brother.

Long ago, an apostle was asked, “Do you love me?”
Peter replied, “Yes, Lord, can’t you see?”
But Jesus said, “By this your love is apparent to me
When the lambs of my flock you will shepherd and feed.”

Thank God that Jesus’s words were not buried away
Nor forgotten by those who live in our day,
That we have in our time a shining illustration
Of a pastor who serves the folk of every nation.
As Pastor John turns sixty years of age,
I recall the words of a contemporary sage:
That now in our time “sixty is the new fifty,”
A few decades more might be rather nifty.

Dear John, may your endings exceed your beginnings,
May your game of life have multiplied innings,
May your stamina grow and not come to a stop,
May your marvelous harvest be soon a bumper crop.
Bless you, and thank you, Pastor John!