J. Vernon McGee: John F. Walvoord Memorial Service

A Life Well Lived: Honoring Dr. John F. Walvoord

Join the Dallas Theological Seminary family, colleagues, and friends as we celebrate the legacy of Chancellor Emeritus Dr. John F. Walvoord—mentor, theologian, administrator, husband, father, and faithful servant of Christ.

This memorial service weaves personal stories and ministry milestones: Dr. Walvoord’s unwavering commitment to Scripture, his gift for “putting Scripture with Scripture,” his tireless leadership, a quiet life of prayer at home, a warm sense of humor, and even hands-on hobbies—from rewiring churches to restoring classic cars. You’ll hear reflections from family and faculty (including notes from Dr. Charlie Dyer and memories of Dr. Richard S. Seume) and a pastoral charge shaped by 2 Timothy 4:7–8—“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.”

Highlights

• A portrait of faithful leadership: scholarship, administration, and prayer
• Family tributes: daily Bible reading and prayer, spiritual integrity at home
• Anecdotes of service and humility (yes, even a ’57 Corvette and a Rolls-Royce)
• A charge to the next generation to “keep the faith” and finish well

Scripture Readings

• Isaiah 43:1–3 – God’s presence in suffering
• Galatians 5:16 – Walk by the Spirit
• 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 – The blessed hope
• 2 Timothy 4:7–8 – Finishing well
• Revelation 22:20 – “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

If Dr. Walvoord’s life has encouraged you, please like, share, and subscribe for more biblical teaching and chapel services from DTS.

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John F. Walvoord Memorial Service – J. Vernon McGee

On behalf of the Walvoord family and Dallas Theological Seminary, I want to welcome you this morning to this additional memorial service for our beloved Chancellor Emeritus—colleague, mentor, and friend—Dr. John F. Walvoord.

Carl Sandburg, the Lincoln biographer, said that you can’t measure the height of a tall tree or the true stature of a great man until it—or he—has fallen. Well, I would both agree and disagree with Mr. Sandburg. I’ve stood beneath the tall California redwood trees and marveled at their unmeasured height. For over three decades I worked alongside Dr. Walvoord and was able to measure—at least in part—his stature as a man.

Dr. Walvoord was greatly gifted as an administrator. Many times I watched as he analyzed problems, broke them into manageable parts, and found solutions. He was endowed with an abundant supply of energy and used it without reserve to carry out his vision of what he felt the Seminary should become. I often remarked to my colleagues that he could outwork any two or three of us.

Dr. Walvoord was, above all else, a man of faith. He exemplified what it meant to walk by faith in the face of heavy pressures, often financial. I was later to face some of these pressures and was often reminded of his words: “I do what I can, and then I trust God.”

When I visited Dr. and Mrs. Walvoord in the hospital, he greeted me, “Hello, Don.” (He rarely called me that.) I responded, “Hello, Dr. John.” (I never called him that.) He said, “I want to go to heaven, but the process is tough.” God, in His grace, shortened the process and took him home. He is absent from the body and at home with the Lord, where he affirms with Paul, “The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glories that shall be revealed to us.” Yes, Dr. Walvoord is in heaven—where everyone calls him “John.”

My contact with Dr. John probably predates that of anyone on campus today, for I enrolled as a student in 1937 when Dr. Walvoord was in his second year on the faculty. One of the first courses I had from him was pneumatalogy, in which he was compiling the material that became part of that widely influential book he authored.

Having come from a conservative college, I had been exposed to Bible and to doctrine; but to come onto campus was to enter an entirely new sphere, and to be exposed to Dr. Walvoord was an enriching experience. There are things from that first exposure that I remember and that still impress me:

First, his commitment to the Word. He trusted it, he loved it, he rested in its authority and its infallibility. He was a man of the Book.

Then I was impressed with the unusual way in which he could put Scripture with Scripture—to take individual passages like pieces of a puzzle, relate them to each other, and put them together to display the big picture. He put the Word of God together.

One could not sit in his classes and not be moved by his love for, commitment to, and devotion to the person of Christ. What a moving experience to have him introduce us to that Person.

We recognized his gifts as an administrator (reference has already been made to that). When I was here, the faculty had about ten members—most of them part-time. Dr. Walvoord, exercising his unusual gift as an administrator, built this large and strong faculty. The buildings that came on campus under his oversight again testify to his gifts as an administrator. But as significant as that was, beyond it were his abilities in the Scripture—to put the Scripture together, unify it, solidify it, and give us that big picture.

I remember when he announced his engagement to Geraldine Lungren. That almost took us by surprise, for he had so demonstrated his scholarly pursuits that we never dreamed he would be diverted from that to matters of the heart. I remember when he was taking us through Ephesians 5 in ecclesiology; he was graphically describing the glory, beauty, and perfection of the Bride that the Father in heaven was preparing for the Bridegroom. Then there was a moment of silence, and he looked off into space and said, “The perfect Bride has not yet arrived, but she is coming.” In that context he could not understand why the class dissolved into uproarious laughter. In a moment it dawned on him what he had said, and he blushed.

While I thank God for the gifts He gave us in this one, above all I thank Him for the ability given to put the Scriptures together as a unit—to exegete them, exposit them, and apply them—so that we were not involved in isolated parts but in the whole. Thank God for Dr. John.

One of His favorite songs—and of the communicable attributes of God—Dr. Walvoord reflected his God in that attribute of his life. In talking with Mrs. Walvoord and the family in the days surrounding Dr. Walvoord’s departure, they wanted you to know something of Dr. Walvoord’s life away from the spotlight of leadership and off the platform of ministry. He was a man of private interests and personal integrity.

In terms of his private interests, they included sports, electricity, and antique cars. During his Wheaton College football days he said they didn’t win many games, but they won a lot of moral victories in their losses. I had just recently learned about his skills in rewiring old churches—in addition to his own home—as well as rebuilding antique cars. His wife and Johnny, his son, told me about the restoration of a ’34 Ford, a ’36 coupe, a 1957 Corvette, and a Rolls-Royce. On one particular day, when all of the young bucks of the neighborhood were milling around working, they couldn’t figure out how to get the block back in the car. Dr. Walvoord came in, asked what they needed, went over, picked it up, and put it in the car. He had strengths we didn’t know.

One of Mrs. Walvoord’s great memories of Dr. Walvoord’s wiring ability she told in chapel upon his retirement from the presidency a few years ago, and then rehearsed it for us the day after he went to be with his Lord: One alumni couple had been given a garbage disposal for Christmas. They tried to install it and couldn’t finish the job. Dr. Walvoord was going to have a series of meetings in their church, so Peggy said, “Let’s wait till Dr. and Mrs. Walvoord come—he’ll be able to fix it.” He did, and in appreciation Peggy gave them one of her oil paintings. Mrs. Walvoord thanked her for the picture and said, “Every time we look at this picture we’ll think of you.” Peggy responded, “Every time we use our disposal, we’ll think of you.”

I love that story. Having had the privilege of sharing in ministry with the Walvoords off campus as well as on, one of the traits I love about them is their sense of humor. They love the Lord, they love each other, and they love other people—and it shows.

He was also a man of private integrity. Along with his interests, Dr. Walvoord’s integrity can be illustrated in three memories surfaced by the family:

First, his son John E. stated that he could never remember a time in the morning hours that he couldn’t find his father on his knees. Dr. Walvoord was a spiritual man—a man of prayer.

Mrs. Walvoord, in tribute to her husband on that retirement from the Seminary presidency, made all of us husbands shrink, take notice, and sit up when she shared her thanksgiving for the spiritual leadership of her husband in her life. She said every day he was home, they read the Bible and prayed together. Such private integrity was the validating foundation for his public impact.

Another son, James Walvoord, recounted to Chaplain Brian and Pastor Don Geyer from Redeemer Bible Church—and to me—when he said he was recently asked what he wanted most in life. James said, “I want to be like my father. I want to be like my father.” There isn’t a parent alive who could hope for more.

Well, Dr. Walvoord has all the blanks filled in on his eschatology chart. I can only speculate, but I suspect he didn’t have too many corrections to make. [Laughter] I’m grateful for the conferences in which we shared together, the conversations I have enjoyed in his living room these past couple of years, and in the hospital for just those few days. We will all miss our leader and friend.

Dr. Charlie Dyer, Senior Vice President of Education and Provost at Moody Bible Institute, wrote Dr. Walvoord a letter upon hearing of his hospitalization. In it he makes this appropriate statement: “Those of us who love Dallas Seminary owe so much to you for your years of faithful service. And those of us who have served in leadership appreciate even more the role you played in keeping the school on track spiritually and theologically. Your example of faithfulness and your passion for theological soundness have marked my life and ministry.” To that, I think we could all say a hearty amen.

Greg Hatteberg had the idea: We left Dr. Walvoord’s chair vacant today—something they did at Moody when Dwight L. Moody passed away. This is the only day we’ll leave it empty, so faculty, don’t spare—sit in it, please. But we remember his absence, his faithful attendance, and his encouraging presence even in his years of retirement.

Some of his favorite passages are on the back of your program. Will you turn there with me?

To a family that faced challenges and the loss of one son, physical challenges with others—they’ve not been without their suffering—Isaiah 43:1–3 has been an encouragement. Would you read it with me?

Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee:
when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.

If you’ve been in chapel these last few years, every time Dr. Walvoord spoke he had a few themes that he rehearsed for us—not the least of which was the need to walk by the Spirit. Listen to Galatians 5:16: “Walk in the Spirit, and you will not fulfill the lust of the flesh.”

A service like this would not be right without 1 Thessalonians 4—his love of the doctrine, his preaching of it, and his practice and application of his life—the expectation of the rapture. Would you read it with me?

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.
For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.
For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep.
For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:
Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.
Wherefore comfort one another with these words.

And when asked to sign a book—to give his autograph—most often the following passage would be listed under his name, Revelation 22:20, which was his expectation, his longing—and ought to be ours:

He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

I would like to ask the Walvoord family and extended family to please stand for us to express our love to you the only way we know how to do it in a place like this.
[Applause]

Dr. Richard S. Seume was the chaplain at the Seminary for a number of years. Unfortunately, those years occurred following my time here as a student, for I always loved Dr. Seume—and I especially love the passionate way that he sang the hymns and often quoted some of the background history of many of them. I returned to the school about eleven years after graduating, and we were celebrating our Jubilee year back in 1974. Dr. Seume was the chaplain at the time, and I remember he took the occasion in a packed chapel—like we have today—to give the colorful background of the Charles Wesley hymn “And Can It Be That I Should Gain.”

One of Dr. Seume’s favorite hymns, this grand 18th-century piece, written by a writer of thousands of grand hymns—Dr. Seume began his explanation of the background by making a comment I’ll never forget to all of us who were sitting in the gathering: “Now please remember—there were giants in the land back in that era.”

When the chapel ended, I found myself walking alongside Dr. Seume out of the chapel, and I was lamenting the absence of giants in the land today. He stopped—we had gotten to the corner down there, turning toward Davidson—and he said, “No, that isn’t true. Look up there—there’s one on the loose right there.” Dr. Walvoord was turning into Davidson Hall to go back to his office as he was serving as president at that time. “Look there,” he said, “There’s one on the loose. The Chief is a giant.” (We who knew Dr. Seume remember his affectionate title for our president at that time—“the Chief.” I always liked that—vintage Seume.)

For those of us who knew, sat in the classes, listened to him preach, witnessed his single-minded leadership, and watched him fulfill his calling while experiencing both success and enormous difficulties—and sometimes deep grief—we admit without a moment’s hesitation that Dr. John F. Walvoord qualified as one of the giants in the land.

Webster defines a giant as “a being of great stature and strength.” Dr. Walvoord was both. Though he has gone from us physically, the memory of his great stature and strength lingers in all our minds.

Those of us who cut our spiritual teeth on prophetic truth from Dr. Walvoord’s course on eschatology were almost persuaded that the Lord Jesus would synchronize His return in the sky with Dr. Walvoord’s time of departure from this earth. It just seemed so right. But as we have found out, that was not the Father’s plan—that Dr. Walvoord’s leaving us would precede the coming of the Lord in the clouds. So we now anticipate our reunion with him in the air.

We come today to honor the faithful life and the splendid ministry of our esteemed mentor and friend. There is no need for any of us to do a lengthy search through the Scriptures to try to find an appropriate passage that would aptly describe the man’s life. The apostle of grace has done that for us. His own epitaph, written by him at the end of his life, is like apples of gold in settings of silver when applied to the epochal accomplishments of John F. Walvoord. The three succinct statements that appear in 2 Timothy 4:7–8 say it best:

First: “I have fought the good fight.”
Battles rage in the spiritual world—they may be invisible, but they are real and rugged—which explains why Paul chooses agōna (agony), a term that refers to a contest in the arena. Whoever engages in the theological disciplines steps onto a battleground, not a playground. Admittedly, some battles are minor skirmishes, better overlooked and ignored. Others are important enough for defenders of truth to weigh in and to stand fast. And then there are occasionally major battles that call for clear thinking, keen discernment, and courageous counter-strategies that are well stated, biblically based, and firmly set forth. Fighting major battles is especially exhausting, since the adversary fuels those flames—and that calls for a strong mind and an unintimidated will. Sometimes the fight is subtle and sneaky; other times it’s blatant and brash, dangerous and sweeping in scope. It’s often doctrinal in nature; it can be in the realm of morality or ethics. It can emerge from within the ekklesia, weakening our ranks, or it can emerge from an assault from the kosmos, bringing serious harm to the unsuspecting. No matter the size, scope, or source of attack, it takes a keen eye of discernment to see the dangers and bold courage to fight for what is right. Isaac Watts’s words, though now old, are ever relevant: “Sure I must fight if I would reign; increase my courage, Lord.” We come today to acknowledge the discernment and the courage of our esteemed friend, who spent his professional life fighting the good fight.

Second: “I have finished the course.”
Many start strong but finish weak. “How the mighty are fallen,” said David upon hearing of the suicide of King Saul. The stories of too many fallen spiritual leaders litter our landscape. Some were people who once looked pious and spiritual in public but were irritatingly carnal and petty in private. Others sounded humble, but secretly and selfishly pursued their own agendas and polished their own image. No such hypocrisy was found in Dr. Walvoord. He was one who was the same whether many were watching or no one was looking. The race was set before him, and that’s the race he ran. Like a distance runner—steady and strong all the way to the end. Isn’t it wonderful to be able to say that his love for Christ, to the very last, was obvious to all of us? Isn’t it refreshing to remember that his devotion to his wife and their sons remained consistent to the end? Isn’t it delightful to announce that his loyalty to the Scriptures never weakened, never waned, never wavered?

His contributions in print were numerous, representing tireless effort and a high level of intelligence and sacrificial discipline. His commitment to prayer, and his dependence upon the Holy Spirit for guidance, wisdom, and stability, were understated non-negotiables in the life of John F. Walvoord. And now—lest I portray the man as a flawless saint—I need to add that another reason he finished the course so strong was because he was, at times, so stubborn. His niece told me, after a previous memorial service we had in December, that she was exasperated with him on one occasion at a family gathering, and she blurted out, “Uncle John, you are tight, and you are stubborn.” He responded with a twinkle in his eye, “No, no—I’m economical, and I’m determined.” We pause today to recognize a man who finished the course strong and well.

Third: “I have kept the faith.”
Those words would be a fitting caption at the base of any portrait of John Walvoord. No matter how discouraged you and I may have gotten in our spirit—regardless of the doubts that may have roared during our weak and fearful moments in the past—we always knew there was one giant of a man living in the city of Dallas who was standing true, guarding the gospel, embracing the faith, preaching the Word in season and out of season. Today we give our God great praise for this fine man who kept the faith without failing.

What does this say to all of us today, since he is gone and we live on? The words of two men come to mind—one dead, one still living. A. W. Tozer put it this way: “When a man of God dies, nothing of God dies.” The man of God has passed on, but the God of the man is ever present among us—worthy of our worship, waiting to be adored, and loving our service. John Stott adds: “As the leaders of the former generation die, it is all the more urgent for those of us in the next generation to step forward bravely to take their place.” The greatest honor we can give Dr. Walvoord is to sustain the model he has left in our memories. We too must fight the good fight. We too need to finish the course—strong and well. We too must keep the faith.

And what can I say of him who has gone—what is he now experiencing? Well, hear it well: following the epitaph comes the promise—“In the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing.” Eugene Peterson captures it in a paraphrase: “This is the only race worth living. I’ve run hard to the finish, believed all the way. All that’s left now is the shouting—God’s applause.”

The memory of the man, life, and ministry lives on—but Dr. Walvoord’s work is done. His labors have ended. The ninety-two-year-old champion has hung up the gloves, having fought a good fight. He’s now enjoying a well-deserved rest, having finished the course strong; and he leaves us with a reminder of the value of keeping the faith till the last day of our lives. To borrow from Dr. Seume, “The Chief”—the giant—is no longer on the loose, not around here. Having served the purposes of God in his own generation, he has moved from time to eternity, and now he worships the Savior face to face.

But is it shouting he’s hearing? I don’t believe I read of the sound of shouting in heaven now that he’s finally home. I believe, rather, he’s hearing the Father’s applause.

Let’s pray together, shall we?

Dear Lord, all of us in this room—and a multitude of people from all over the world who have benefited from his ministry—are most grateful to You for the life of John F. Walvoord. Not only are we grateful for his life, but we are thankful for the legacy of excellence he leaves at Dallas Seminary. His memory is an encouragement to us all to live a life totally yielded to the Holy Spirit. Indeed, he was faithful to his calling. He finished well, and we desire to do the same. Dismiss us now, Father, with a renewed commitment to serve You fully and to bring honor and glory to the name of Jesus Christ in everything that we do. For it is in His name that we pray. Amen.