In the mid-nineties I was living in Terre Haute with my family. My wife was finishing her music degree at Indiana State University, our kids were in middle school and grade school, and I was attempting to start a church for the Southern Baptists just north of the university campus.
One day our phone rang. I picked it up, and a heavily accented voice said, “Ah, yes, my name is Rasheed Abdul Mohammed, and I am looking for information about Jesus Christ.” I thought, “Oh! Here’s an international student at I.S.U., a Muslim who wants to know about Jesus!” My heart raced as I tried to gather my thoughts to try to tell him the Gospel. But before I could say anything, a decidedly different voice—with a pronounced Hoosier twang—said, “David, this is Lonnie Rector. I was just kiddin’ ya!” Well, I was relieved, but almost speechless. He really got me. And I called him “Mohammed” from that moment on.
Lonnie explained to me that he was in a Christian band with one of my former guitar students, a young man named Michael Backfish. Michael was going to be leaving the band soon, and Lonnie was looking for a guitar player to replace him. He told me, “I can’t think of anybody better to replace Michael than the man who taught him.” He invited me to come to one of their rehearsals to hear the band and see what I thought.
I went to the rehearsal, and met the members of the band, including Rodney Jones (who was one of the most fantastic drummers I’ve ever known, despite being blind), and two lady singers, Cindy Miller and Teresa Johnson. Michael Backfish was also there on guitar, and his brother Matt was playing keyboard. Lonnie played the bass. I listened to them for a couple of hours, and it didn’t take long for me to be itching to join in. But I hadn’t brought my guitar! They were good, and on top of that, they were genuinely likeable people, too. It was fun to be with them.
Still, I wavered about whether to join the band or not. But my wife sat me down and said, “Everyone one else in this family does something for fun, except you. I think you should do this.” So, I decided to tell Lonnie yes.
A couple of days later, Lonnie called me and said, “Now David, don’t say anything, just listen. Here’s all the reasons why I think you should join our band.” So, I listened as he fervently, eloquently set forth all of his reasons. He argued like a lawyer for almost ten minutes! When he finished, I just quietly said: “Okay.” There was silence. Then Lonnie said, “Okay? You-you mean you’ll join?” I said, “Yeah. I’d already decided to say ‘yes’ before you called.” He groaned and said, “And you let me go on like that?” And I told him, “Yeah, it was fun! Think of it as payback for that Mohammed phone call.”
That started a five-year stint with the band we ended up calling Stone’s Cry (from Luke 19:40, where Jesus said, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”). And Michael Backfish ended up not having to leave, so I got to be in a band with my former guitar student. It was great fun and we played and sang about Jesus to any church or youth group that would have us.
But I never would have done any of that without Lonnie. Lonnie was my “spark plug.” Without somebody like Lonnie, I’d just end up playing my guitar by myself at home. Lonnie was a go-getter, full of enthusiasm. I always said he was like a cross between a puppy and a big red helium balloon.
After about five years, Stone’s Cry came to an end, and we all went our separate ways. But I’ve always had a warm spot in my heart for those people, and that band. And I always thought that, at some point, we would all get back together for at least a one-off reunion concert.
That’s why it hit me pretty hard to learn that Lonnie had died. He went Home to be with Jesus on October 11th. He was only 62 years old.
Lonnie hadn’t been in good health for a number of years. He struggled with his weight, gaining and losing, then gaining it all back again. He battled other ailments, too, but in the end it was cancer that claimed his life. And I was told that this big man really wasted away before the end.
Lonnie was a big man, with an even bigger heart. He loved Jesus, and if you loved Jesus, then Lonnie loved you, too. And he probably had a great idea about how you and he could do something together for the Lord.
Lonnie wasn’t perfect, by a long shot, and he would tell you that himself. (I could tell you that I’m perfect, but some of you know my wife.) And yes, Lonnie got on my nerves sometimes, and I know I got on his, too, from time to time. But I know Lonnie loved me. And I loved him.
I wish I could have said goodbye to him. As it turned out, I had to conduct a funeral here in Linton at almost the same time that Lonnie’s funeral was being held in Brazil. I wasn’t even able to go pay my respects. I hate that.
Charles “Tremendous” Jones said that you will be the same person in five years that you are today except for the books you read and the people you meet. I am so grateful to God that I met Lonnie Rector. Lonnie got me out of my house and into the company of some very wonderful musicians. We got to play music together, and sing about Jesus together. And along the way we did an awful lot of laughing together, too. Some of the best musical experiences I’ve ever had, I had with Stone’s Cry. And it was all because of Lonnie.
I got a new guitar a couple of years ago, and I always wanted to show it to Lonnie, at some point. I won’t get to do that now.
But I will get to sing with Lonnie again. In better voice, with better instruments, and in a much better venue.
Maybe we will get to have that reunion concert, after all. And this time, we won’t be singing about Jesus.
We’ll be singing to Him.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Pastor David