When I was growing up, there was a man in our church named Mr. Teeter. He seemed impossibly old when I was a child– he’d been born in the 1800s! And he and his wife often looked like they were still living in the previous century. Mrs. Teeter wore dark-colored dresses that came past her calf, sturdy shoes, and a white cap over her carefully arranged, long white hair. Mr. Teeter always wore a suit to church, complete with a gray fedora. Mr. and Mrs. Teeter were both short–he was probably no taller than 5’4″, and she barely cleared five feet in height.

One of the weekly church meetings we attended was mid-week prayer meeting. Sometimes, we would start with worship and singing. Various people would call out old favorite hymns. Sometimes we had a pianist; sometimes we sang a Capella. And almost invariably, Mr. Teeter would request the same old hymn. He liked other hymns–“What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” or “He Lives! He Lives! I know He lives; He lives within my heart.” But his clear favorite was “I Love to Tell the Story.”

As a child, I found this frustrating. First of all, I liked to sing a variety of songs; this one was NOT one of my favorites, and I thought we were “wasting time” by always singing the same old songs. Secondly, because of his age, everyone deferred to Mr. Teeter, so even if other songs were called out, it was a given that his choice would probably win out.

But one evening, Mr. Teeter explained WHY he loved this old hymn so much. He said he had lived a rough life in his younger years– he drank more than he should, and he had a short temper. I was shocked. I could not imagine this tiny, wrinkled, gentle man as being anything other than how I knew him. He was dapper, soft-spoken, kind, and wise. When his wife suffered a stroke, he patiently and lovingly cared for her. He was generous and compassionate, even if I thought his musical taste was more limited than it might have been.

Instead of singing the song, he read it aloud. And after a couple of phrases, he would linger and talk about how, all these years later, he was still in love with the simple Gospel message– that Christ died for sinners, rose again and offered forgiveness and redemption to all who believed in Him. Mr. Teeter had never forgotten the joy and wonder of his Salvation. He never tired of “the old, old story” because it had changed his life in a dramatic and eternally satisfying way. Mr. Teeter died when I was still a teenager. He had cared for his wife until she died, and he was at peace when it came time to leave his life on earth. In fact, his face almost glowed as he lay in his casket. He was absent from the body, and ready to sing the “new, new song.”

There was nothing slick or intellectually challenging about Mr. Teeter’s testimony, but it was very real and powerfully moving. There was nothing musically exciting about the song he loved, but the message was eternally true, and worth singing over and over again. So many years later, whenever I hear this timeless hymn, I am reminded of how Jesus changed my life, and how grateful I am to sing His praises.

Today, as I remember Mr. Teeter and his faithful witness of God’s love and mercy, I pray that you know the simple and enduring truth of Christ’s love for you. And I pray that we would be as faithful in proclaiming the “Old, Old story of Jesus and His Love” as we go through life.