David Truitt Glass

David Truitt Glass, born December 31, 1952, has seen his Savior face to face, December 12, 2020…

Following, is a tribute from David’s daughter who lives in Hawaii and is unable to be here in person...

My dad was a spiritual giant. He thoroughly immersed himself in scripture, devoted himself to prayer, and treated every task and job as a ministry. I don't think there is a single person he met that was left with any doubt regarding his faith and devotion to Christ. He was a deacon, Sunday School teacher, Bible study leader, prayer warrior, mentor and Biblical scholar. 

But to me, he was just dad. He was the best man I ever met. He was thoroughly trustworthy and never once told me a lie. He set a standard for manhood that no man on earth, with the exception of my brothers, has ever met. He laughed and smiled and joked. If there was ice cream in the freezer, it was a guarantee that he would have ice cream after dinner, and the way he packed as much ice cream as possible into a cup was a feat of food engineering. No air, no space was allowed into that cup. Ice cream filled every crevice and sometimes nuts and chocolate syrup and even raisins went on top. There were evenings when he ate that ice cream wearing a fedora and sunglasses, just because it was fun. He always cleaned his plate, scraping it with a fork, while we sat and cringed at the sound of metal against porcelain. He exemplified work ethic. Everything he did, he did with enthusiasm and immersion. It was not worth doing, if not done well. (Colossians 3:17) 
He surfed, and crafted surf boards. He played tennis, and strung racquets. He made toys out of wood for my kids, tops that spun and catapults that hurled little tiny bean bags. We needed a computer- he researched and taught himself what he needed to know to build one. If something broke, he could fix it. He did things of great magnitude, building houses, clearing land, driving tractors, learning Russian to minister to Russian children, but he also was a master of delicacy and art. I will keep forever the hand drawn cards with illustrations and cartoons that he sent me, the bowls and vases he turned on his lathe, with delicate lettering burned into the bottom- dates, names, a message, a scripture. He wrote music and played guitar, crafted a ukulele and learned to play it. There were nights that he would throw on a garish wig and costume and goof around, just for fun, just to make us laugh. Every year, his Principles of Technology class at the high school would do a project- construct a model of a car out of balsa wood with a hole in the back for a CO2 cartridge, then race them to see whose car was the most aerodynamic. Every year, he would bring home a wooden form me for and my brothers so we could make one, too. They were masterpieces. He taught us how to draw a design for the car, how to sand it down, gradually increasing the sandpaper grit, until it was smooth, like butter. When the cars were done and painted, looking like a professional tiny racer, they were strung on a string, the cartridge was fired, and they would fly. My dad gave us the gift of his time. He was not too busy to paint wooden model cars with his kids, help me perfect a cartwheel, play baseball in the backyard, have an ice cream date, build a snowman or go sledding. When we went to the beach, he would launch us into the waves again and again, and I only realize now, as a parent, how exhausting that was. At the time, all I saw was how much fun he was having with us. There were weekly Saturday breakfasts at Mrs. Wenger's. My brothers and I alternated weeks, taking turns so that we all got an equal opportunity for Saturday breakfast out with Dad. He was silly, funny, serious, brilliant, inspiring, faithful, honest- and always there for me. When my daughter was an infant and wouldn't stop screaming, he would take her outside and walk around the yard, in the grass, near the trees, and talk to her and she would grow quiet, listening to the rise and fall of his voice. He was a master story teller. On long car rides, we would often ask, "Tell us a story, Dad." He told stories to my brothers and myself and then told stories to his grandchildren, often about two rather naughty protagonists named Billy and Jimmy. Billy and Jimmy got into a lot of trouble. One of the more memorable tales was told to a certain child of mine that had a habit of eating boogers. Unfortunately, Billy or Jimmy, I cannot recall which, also had this habit, turned into a giant booger and died. After hearing the story, the child in question never ate a booger again, for fear of one day turning into a giant booger and perishing. There was the year that my mother bought my dad turtleneck long sleeved shirts and my dad dutifully tried them on, clearly hating every second that his neck was entrapped in the softly suffocating fabric. She exclaimed, "David, you look so handsome!" He then proceeded to pose like a JC Penney model, while we laughed until we hurt, and there are photos to prove it. The turtlenecks were returned to the store. 

My mom and dad had a marriage that was perfectly imperfect. They laughed, got on each other's nerves and half drove each other crazy, disagreed, and always came back together at the end of the day. He was my mother's best friend, her confidant, her person, her prayer partner. When he worked at the high school, he called her, to the best of my memory, every day when he took his lunch break. It was dependable, like clockwork. On payday, he would call and say, "The eagle has landed." They took care of each other. She kept him humble. He was her rock. There was never any question as to the fidelity of their relationship. It was one of the utterly true and reliable things in my life as a child and an adult. They loved each other in a way that was refined and excellent, through their human faults, lifting each other up always. My father showed so much respect for my mother, and she for him. They spoke highly of each other in the other's absence. My mom always said that she would go first, that there was no way my dad would be allowed to leave this earth without her. She often said that he was the most handsome man, and I agreed. My handsome, strong, dependable dad. He was everything that a man should be, flaws and humanity notwithstanding. 

The memory that stands out most prominently to me takes me back to my late teenage years, when my parents and I were going through a very rocky period. Relationships were strained to the point of breaking and tensions were high. My dad and I were facing off, standing outside in the driveway, about 8 feet apart. We were having a very intense conversation, about what exactly, I cannot recall. I do remember the way I felt. I was angry, hateful, hurt, and stubborn. I was non responsive. Finally, he held  out his arms, like an earthly representation of Jesus on the cross, and said, "I love you, Joni." Then he stood, waiting for me to come to him. I stood rooted there and didn't move. I waited. His arms stayed outstretched, steady. I waited a long time. Finally, he wavered, dropped his arms. His head dropped. At that moment, my heart broke a little bit and I went to him, accepted the hug he offered. He was always there. No matter what, I have never doubted that my father loved me. He truly did exemplify Jesus to me and is the standard of manhood that I will forever hold as ideal. 

If I have any regrets, it is that we did not have more time. We didn't have enough coffee dates. I didn't get to make him enough cookies. I didn't get to hug him goodbye. I hope he knew how much I loved him, how special I knew he was.

Following, is a tribute from David’s eldest son who lives in Thailand and is unable to be here in person...

‘…and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race,

I have kept the faith.’ 2 Timothy 4:6-7

Today, David Glass is enjoying his inheritance among the saints. While his earthly life is no more, his glorified body is just getting started. My dad captured the fullness of what it meant to live life abundantly, giving his absolute best in everything (Col. 3:23) with the purpose of giving glory to God

(1 Cor 10:31). For most of his life, this meant teaching, building, creating, fixing, and a myriad of other things. Dad was not just a jack of all trades, he became a near expert in every single thing he did. He believed in being a good steward with what God had given him and if something was worth doing then it was worth doing right. Even when his physical body began rapidly fading, Dad did not waver from his purpose in life. Through it all, his only aim remained to finish the race and to complete the task given to him by his Lord Jesus – to testify to the good news of God’s grace (Acts 20:24).

Only by the power at work within him through the Holy Spirit was it possible for Dad to rejoice in the midst of unimaginable physical pain and distress (Ephesians 3:20). Through it all, Dad did not lose heart, but chose instead to ‘…contemplate the Lord’s glory…’ as he continued to be …’transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory…’ (2 Cor. 3:18-4:1). This glory was far beyond anything an earthly body could produce or experience, and as his outward body wasted away, Dad set his eyes like flint towards eternity, and his inner man sprinted toward the finish line (2 Cor. 4:16-18).

My dad had many favorite Scriptures, and I would like to use some of them here as a foundation for a brief tribute, exhortation and invitation for anyone who might take the time to read it.

‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil. This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones.’ Proverbs 3:5-8

My Dad held many verses close to his heart, but this one was one of his most quoted. One might ask how my dad could cling to this verse so tightly while his body deteriorated. Dad trusted in the Lord and did not lean on his own understanding, even regarding his own circumstances. Even in the midst of his physical agony, Dad acknowledged the Lord who was faithful in making my his path straight by giving him grace to keep his eyes firmly set on eternity.

‘If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.’ 1 Corinthians 15:19

My dad knew that any healing in this life, though welcome, would only be temporary. His true hope always lay beyond this life as he looked forward to a resurrected body – true healing that would never again give way to sickness.

‘I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me – the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.’ Acts 20:24

More than anything, my dad wanted to finish well. His fear was never dying – it was the process involved and the opportunity it may present for him to falter in his ability to give God glory. For most of his life, even in the first 6 months of being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, Dad glorified God in many practical ways as he used his many skills and abilities to bless other people through teaching, building, creating, fixing, singing and countless other tangible ways. As his physical abilities were increasingly stripped away from him, my dad’s purpose and task remained the same – to glorify God and to testify to His grace. And, in so doing, my dad was filled with increasing joy, as he received the end result of his faith, the salvation of his soul. (1 Peter 1:8-9)

‘So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.’ 1 Corinthians 10:31.

‘Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.’ 1 Corinthians 15:58

‘Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day – and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.’

2 Timothy 4:8

May we who know Christ honor my dad’s memory by following in his example as he followed Christ.

(1 Corinthians 11:1) If anyone who reads this does not know the Lord, may I extend an invitation on my dad’s behalf – ‘Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.’ Isaiah 55:6-8

‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.’  I Corinthians 15:54, 56-57

David is survived by his mom, Dorothy Glass, and his brother, Jon, and wife, Elizabeth, and his two nieces, Isabel and Stella. His legacy includes his wife, Connie, and children, Joni, Jason and wife, Christy, Kevin and wife, Jamie, grandchildren, Molly, Sam, Malia, Makoa, Zachary and Zane. A special Thank You to his brother-in-law, David Pettus and wife, Anne, who walked closely with us throughout the last two and a half years and who dearly love David.

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