Glenn Lucke, For A Shepherd Dying Young: Remembering Dustin Salter

I met Dustin Salter in my first semester at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando. Dustin and I were in the M.A. in Theological Studies program, both sure RTS had made a mistake in letting us in, both wanting to gain a richer, deeper knowledge of Jesus and His ways. He was almost my height (tall), and thin, and had an easy, loping way about him. He laughed easily, too, asked more questions than most, and listened. And he read endlessly.

Dustin was one of those Southerners who epitomized what is best about Southern culture—polite, well-mannered, caring about others, deferent but willing to ask challenging questions, humble yet spirited, and hungry. Like a very few that I’ve known, Dustin was the kind of Southerner who didn’t love the South and held the stigma of backwardness close to his heart. At least during our RTS days, he seemed to want to escape a world that I thought had etched him in beautiful ways, but that he saw as having rendered him intellectually behind others.

The Study Group
Dustin and I were part of a mostly inseparable foursome that did RTS together. John Jackson (Juice) and Patrick Connelly were the other two, and we all remain great friends. We were all in the MATS program, so we took almost all the same classes together. Three in particular stand out because they were a peculiar hellish ordeal all their own, because those three courses were taught by a scholar we loved and feared, Dr. Frank James. Dr. James, whom we referred to as ‘Texas Frank’ everywhere except in Dr. James’ presence, was a superb lecturer. For those who might think Church History or Systematics might define tedium, Dr. James transfixed us with the greatness of God and the ways the Spirit had worked through the saints in history. An elder at St.   Paul’s PCA, Dr. James took seriously the work of the church and the blending of heart and mind in following Christ, and all of this he brought into the classroom.

But his tests were the hellish ordeal. A student a couple of years ahead of us, Ken Aldrich, told us the secret to earning an A on Dr. James’ tests: memorize the lecture notes. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked. He wasn’t. So our study group of Dustin, Juice, Patrick and I would meet for several days before Dr. James’ mid-terms and final exams to….memorize our notes. All of ‘em. Every last concept, fact, person and date that Dr. James mentioned in lecture. Patrick and I memorized independently in quiet places, while Dustin and Juice did it together, and then all of four of us would meet repeatedly at Perkins, Denny’s and Juice’s home to drill. Amidst the intensity we learned each others’ stories and dreams and families, all in the ligature of life in Jesus. In the nearly all-nighters before the tests, when we’d had too little sleep and too much caffeine already for days, compressed by stress, we spiraled into absurdity.

 My recollection: four guys in the study group, three Dr. James courses each with mid-term and final, and we averaged about a 98 when scuttlebutt indicated that the class averages were usually in the low to mid 80s.

 Dustin wasn’t just a smart, hard-working seminary student. He was the husband of Leigh Anne, who became “Spunky L A”, and was the perfect match for Dustin. Their love and evident joy in life together, as with Juice & Judy Jackson, spoke volumes to single guys like Patrick and me. Marriage really could be this good.

 Dustin was also an athlete. Though I was slightly taller, Dustin had a wingspan, and he also had the knack for timing, meaning he blocked my shots when RTS guys played at Orangewood Presbyterian Church on certain evenings. I wasn’t used to that and did not like it one bit. Though Dustin was a talented athlete, I learned the hard way he was not up for running. I persuaded him, sort of, to join me as a regular running partner early in the morning. I think we ran three times.

 A month or so before graduating the MATS program, one of our principal mentors, Richard Pratt, took Dustin, Patrick and me to lunch. An hour later we three marched into the Registrar’s office to switch out of the MATS and into the MDiv program, which meant two more years of seminary, languages, and hermeneutics. Juice and Judy and their kids were leaving; Juice got into the DPhil program at Oxford and it was time to go.

MDiv
The MDiv years were life-changing for us. Dustin, Patrick and I learned Greek and Hebrew together, which meant more ordeals and more life lived together. We studied at “Barnes” because Dustin, the chronic abbreviator, loved Barnes & Noble which was a good 20-30 minutes across town. We learned hermeneutics, which gave rise to a hilarious story about Dustin. One day Richard Pratt was talking about the benefits of literary analysis, not instead of other forms of analysis favored by evangelicals, but in addition to them. To make a point Pratt told a story about Bruce Waltke, a huge figure in Hebrew and Hebrew Bible studies. Waltke had recently come to teach at RTS, he had learned literary analysis a few years before, and was now re-reading the Bible in light of it. Waltke—did I mention he is a huge figure in Hebrew language and Hebrew Bible studies?—told a class the week before he now felt that the text had been obscured to him all these decades, that he was only now really reading the Bible. Pratt’s story about Waltke stunned the class.

Then Dustin stunned the class. “Woo hoo! Richard! The power of a grid!” He didn’t just say it, this fairly erupted from him. As you might expect, in the context of a seminary class this loudly shouted, exuberant exclamation was startling. But he was right, and Pratt agreed that even someone as expert as Waltke could be and had been restrained by the power of his paradigm. It wasn’t that the Bible Waltke now read hadn’t been there before—the same Hebrew text was in his hands. But as Dustin said, the grid had ruled out any other way of reading the text….for decades. 

Naturally, we loved the outburst for its form as well as its content, and “Woo hoo! Power of a grid” became a saying on campus and a closing for emails and goodbyes. Dustin was embarrassed by it, but what Patrick and I and other close friends saw was Dustin’s un-self-conscious love for learning, his passion for living and for submitting his mind and heart to the Lord for reform. The story was endearing to us and also a landmark: I will never forget the story about Bruce Waltke, “the power of a grid” and reading the Bible through the lens of literary analysis. I loved that about Dustin. We all did. 

Part of the MDiv program was preaching. Dustin had presence, partly because of his physical stature, but also his humility and honesty and his many hours of study communicated a gravitas that must be reckoned with. He probably preached another sermon during the class but I remember one on the image of God. Dustin had done his biblical and theological homework and showed us from the text more acutely than we (or at least I) had realized the grandeur of our being made in God’s image and the wickedness of our fallen estate. He narrated an illustration that was later to get him into hot water when he preached this same message as his maiden sermon at the church in Fort   Worth that sponsored RUF. The illustration was from the movie Trainspotting, a scene in which a heroin addict trying to quit cold turkey fails, and then goes to extreme measures to retrieve a hit of the heroin god he worships. I think it’s fair to say that Dustin made it memorably, vividly clear how fallen the image of God is in chasing our false gods.

Originally all three of us believed we would head on to PhD programs, and Patrick and I did so. Juice was already two years into his DPhil at Oxford by our graduation. Dustin and Spunky L A, though, believed the Lord calling them into the pastorate. Dustin and Leigh Anne were invited to open the RUF ministry at TCU and off they went.

RUF at TCU
I remember Dustin telling me in phone conversations how hard it was to start this work at TCU. The Christian faith in the Reformed way does not grow well or quickly in all soils. The first year Dustin had a Bible study. I think the second year RUF at TCU was a Bible study and a bit more. Each time we talked he would repeat how hard it was to get stuff going, but that he loved hanging out with the guys and being in their lives and teaching them the Gospel. 

Dustin would speak of the RUF pastors who were really good pastors and good preachers. Greg Thompson who started the work at UVa, Brian Habig at Vanderbilt, Bill Boyd at Texas—these were the guys who were actually talented, who knew what they were doing, who were enjoying the Lord’s blessing. This was Dustin’s peculiar humility again and again. No matter how hard he worked, he saw himself as the possessor of meager talents and it was always others who really had the stuff and were really doing things right. 

So I visited several years ago. 

I stepped into a spacious room in a student center at TCU and this spacious room seemed miniscule and so packed a fire marshal might have blown the whistle. The Lord, through Dustin and Leigh Ann, had transformed the soil and out of their initial scratching and sowing the Lord had brought a harvest of over a hundred students. Undeniably it was fun to see the numbers, but Dustin never seemed to care about the numbers. What he wanted was for the men and women students to believe the Gospel, to submit to Jesus in all of life, to live Gospel-centered lives of joy and lament, obedience and repentance for disobedience, and worship. 

I was dazzled by the singing that night and even more so by the preaching. Dustin’s text that night was Romans 10 and I saw the same blend of diligent study of the text and exuberant, passionate preaching. He pled for his people to break out of holy huddles and to embrace their peers at TCU, to get into their lives, to live the Gospel among them. I don’t know how many sermons you remember from three years ago, but that one made an impression on me. 

As is my way, I grilled students before and after RUF, and then later at a dessert party that Dustin and Leigh Anne hosted for the students. I wanted to push and probe and see what difference their ministry was really making in students’ lives. Was it merely a cool ministry that had finally attained momentum at TCU? From student after student I saw on their faces and heard from their lips the health that comes from living the Gospel. They knew they were fallen, they knew they were redeemed. They were neither blasé about sin nor stuck in depression, but walking in the joy of the Gospel. I could scarcely believe such spiritual health, person after person. Joy abounded in that place. 

I drove away, marveling. Dustin, in his extreme humility, always thought the real talent and the real successes were other people in other places, but what I had just witnessed in the RUF meeting and dessert party was God at work, changing lives. It was genuinely beautiful to behold. What I saw was a shepherd who loved his sheep and was laboring with all he had to help them get the Gospel for all of life. 

I know Paul tells us that death has lost its sting, but right now, in the wake of Dustin’s death, it sure feels like sting. But I also know, right now, that my grief is not without hope. Dustin is alive because he is one with the resurrected Lord. 

One of my favorite hymns, For All the Saints, seems used by churches mostly at times of funerals. I sing it often without connection to death and funerals, but I see also its resonance for saying goodbye to a friend and shepherd dying young. 

For All the Saints
For all the saints, who from their labors rest, 
who thee by faith before the world confessed, 
thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest. 
Alleluia, Alleluia! 

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might; 
thou Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight; 
thou in the darkness drear, their one true light.
Alleluia, Alleluia! 

O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, 
fight as the saints who nobly fought of old, 
and win with them the victor's crown of gold. 
Alleluia, Alleluia! 

O blest communion, fellowship divine! 
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; 
yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. 
Alleluia, Alleluia! 

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, 
steals on the ear the distant triumph song, 
and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. 
Alleluia, Alleluia! 

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast, 
through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, 
singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: 
Alleluia, Alleluia!

Comments

[Amy Lauger]

Glenn,
What a great tribute! It sounds like Dustin was a wonderful man of God.

Oh, and just to assure you, “Texas Frank” and his tests haven’t changed a bit. I’d make hundreds of flashcards and pace back and forth in my apartment for days, memorizing them. But you’re right – if you just memorized everything he said (and knew how to spell it), you were fine! After two years, I can still pull out names like Hieronymous Baumgartner!

Praying for your diss!

[Tim Udouj]

Glenn,

Thank you much for writing this. I barely knew Dustin, but in the few conversations I had with him, I walked away feeling like I just talked to the gentle giant. He possessed a humility that was evident immediately, and as a new runt in RUF he instantly made me feel as if I belonged more than he.

Last night, Rod Mays, our head coordinator asked the question that I have been pondering all morning: "Can you even imagine what Dustin is experiencing right now?"

Tim

[David Wayne]

Glenn - this is one of the most moving things I have read in a long while. I feel like I should know Dustin but I guess our paths didn't cross at RTS or if they did I just never got to know him. You have not only given us a tribute to a wonderful man, but a glimpse of God's grace.

[Dan Adamson]

Glenn- Thank you for sharing this with us. I have never met Dustin but I learned through Patrick Connelly about the accident and little about Dustin. My thoughts and prayers have been with him and his family these past months. I truly feel a loss in his death and I can't wait to meet him one day. Thank you for sharing from your heart

[Diane Armitage]

Beautifully written, and what a revealing glimpse into the life of Dustin, the seminary student! I didn't get to know him until he was at TCU and did some pulpit supply for our church (Grace Community Presby.). My kids always loved to hear his passionate preaching, and I was always so impressed with his connection to the culture.
Thanks for writing this.

[Meredith Leachman]

Glenn-
So great! I can just picture D bursting out "the power of a grid" in class! He will be missed.

[J-ho]

Glenn,
You brought back some great memories of Dustin and Leigh Anne. I stayed with them a few times for those one-week intensive courses and we always had a blast. They were some of the most hospitable people I've met.
None of us in that class will ever forget that wonderful "power of a grid" day!
Thanks for writing this. Guys like Dustin need to be celebrated!

Justin

[Glenn Fincher]

Brother, we share a first name, and an eternal one in Christ.

I never knew Dustin, but his sermon on Providence and the walk that Leigh Ann has been on these many months have given strength to my family through similar experiences. My brother in law was injured in an assault about two weeks before Dustin's accident, and through the long months since, Dustin's sermon has called us to our loving Father and kept us hoping in Him. We are forever knit by our common circumstances and I long to meet my brother Dustin in glory.

Under the Mercy,

Glenn Fincher

[Richard Pratt]

Thank you for reminding us of Dustin's gifts and faithfulness. His absence from the church on earth will be felt for years to come. I am grieved for his lovely family and for the church he served so faithfully. His untimely departure reminds us all of how short life is and how important it is to seize every opportunity God gives us for service.

[scott cunningham]

Thank you so much for this Glenn.