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Eulogy for Harold E. Salem

One thing has become very clear to me over the last several days and that is this: Everybody has a Pastor Harold Salem story.

People at the grocery store, at church, those who have known him for decades and those who’ve just met him, everybody it seems to me, has a story they want to share about grandpa.

They will tell you about the first time they met, the sermons he preached, the jokes he told, or the experiences they shared. In every story, you can hear the same refrain, “He touched my life. And my life is better because Pastor Salem was part of it.”

I read one such story on Facebook this week that went like this, “It was Pastor Salem’s Christmas sermon in 2003 that led to my grandmother’s salvation. Thank you Pastor Harold.”

There is not a doubt in my mind that every single person in this room, or watching online, could stand up here today and share their story about Harold Salem.

At the very least, every mother in this room could stand up and share about the time he offered them $100 to name their child, Harold.

I have my own story:

10 years ago, I had an unexpected conversation with my grandpa. I happened to be in town and he asked if I could meet him in his office at 1pm the following day. It was an unexpected request. It wasn’t unexpected that I’d be in his office. I mean, I’ve been sneaking into his study since I was a child to steal Tootsie Rolls or Certs out of his drawer.

But this request was more formal, official.

When I sat down with him, my grandpa took a sheet of paper from his drawer and slid it across the desk. When I picked it up, I read clearly typed out across the top: Funeral Service for Harold E. Salem. Every detail of his funeral had been planned out.

He pointed out my role, where it landed in the service, and asked if I’d take part in it.

It was a conversation that I have never forgotten, even to this day. It wasn’t particularly surprising that my grandpa had planned out his funeral, he was just that type of guy. Thoughtful and thorough.

The surprising part was when I looked up from the paper and looked into the eyes of my grandpa. They were calm, assured, and unafraid. He spoke of the end of his life plainly and matter of factly. He spoke of his death as something that he looked forward to with joy.

He had lived his life well. He had no regrets. As he liked to say, “If I had a hundred lives, I’d give them all to the ministry.”

He told me that he was ready to die—that he desperately wanted to see Beulah again and he couldn’t wait to finally meet Jesus face-to-face.

He was not afraid of death because he had run the race well. He had finished strong. Oh how I long to reach the end of my life as satisfied with my pursuits as he was with his.

That was over a decade ago.

For the last ten years, I have known this day was coming. And for the last ten years, I have been at a complete loss of words to know how to articulate the person Harold Salem was and the impact his life has had on both heaven and earth.

The day after my grandfather passed away, my mom got a telephone call from a woman requesting information about the funeral. Her father, 97 years old and confined to a nursing home, wanted to be there at the funeral to pay his respects properly. And she would do whatever it took to get him there.

The following morning at church, just 12 hours later, a prayer was offered from the pulpit mentioning Harold’s death. Immediately when the prayer ended, a 10-year old boy in the row in front of me, looked up at his mother with tears in his eyes, “Pastor Salem died?”

What type of man compels a 97-year old man in a nursing home to move heaven and earth to attend a funeral and yet can also bring a 10-year old to tears at the mere mention of his death? Who has this type of impact across generations and can communicate love so effectively?

I only know one man—and the world lost him this week.

His accomplishments are second to none. I know not everyone watching and listening online has access to Harold’s obituary. For your sake, allow me to just read a few paragraphs from it:

He entered the ministry at age 23, serving faithfully as the pastor of First Baptist Church in Belle Fourche, his home church, for 13 1/2 years.

In 1958, he accepted the call to the First Baptist Church of Aberdeen, South Dakota, where he faithfully served as Pastor for 52 1/2 years. While pastoring the church, he started the First Baptist Christian School, now Aberdeen Christian School.

Harold founded the Christian Worship Hour in 1979 by telecasting the church worship service on a single TV station. Today, his preaching is broadcast on over 100 stations around the world and shortwave radio reaching 90% of the world’s population. 

He was a well-known and well-loved community member of Aberdeen where he served on countless nonprofit boards including the YMCA, Red Cross, Habit for Humanity, St. Luke’s Hospital, Presentation College, FCA, Northern Plains Hospice, among numerous others.

He served as the President of the South Dakota Baptist Convention, served on the faculty of the Billy Graham Schools of Evangelism for 16 years, was named “Pastor of the Year” twice in the state of South Dakota, and was inducted into the South Dakota Hall of Fame in 2000. 

He is the author of three books and the subject of one documentary, Heart of a Shepherd, produced in 2018 to document his extraordinary life. He worked passionately for the Lord every day of his life promising repeatedly that he would retire “3 days before his funeral.” He fulfilled that promise working full-time until the very end.

Harold’s selfless spirit, kind words, sense of humor, impeccable memory, sharp mind, and boundless energy endeared him to others wherever he went—whether a country farm or an executive board room.

His children will tell you he was the same person at home as he was in the pulpit. Always loving, kind, fun, and faithful to the Lord. His love for Beulah was unconditional and his love for others was never questioned.

What can I say about this man? What can I say about a man I’ve always wanted to be just like? What can I say about a man who shaped my worldview and understanding of God more than anyone else? What can I say about a man I named my own son after?

For ten years I have wrestled with this question.

And it wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that I knew what I wanted to say.

Two weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, I received a text from my mom. And it said this, “Please pray for dad. He is going down hill. It is very hard to watch.”

I knelt down to pray and felt immediately at a loss for words. 

I recalled my conversation with my grandfather ten years ago, when he told me contentedly, “I just want to go see Beulah and finally meet Jesus face-to-face.”

Praying for his recovery, in an odd way, began to feel selfish. Oh, how I’d love more time with him. Oh, what good he could continue to bring into this world. Oh, how many souls could he continue to bring into the kingdom of God if he would live longer here on earth.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my grandpa would have welcomed that opportunity. If he had recovered, there’s no question that he would have returned to preaching and answering letters and sharing the love of Jesus with everyone he met. 

Because that is who he was—selfless through and through. His life was for Christ and his life was for others. Harold lived an entirely selfless life. 

He never lived for the glory of himself, he never loved in a self-serving manner. He gave himself, every day, to the God who saved him and the sheep He sent his son to save. Through and through, he had the heart of a shepherd, giving his life for the sheep.

As I closed my prayer that Sunday morning, I said to God, “Maybe just this one time Lord, maybe just this one time, you give him what he wants. A chance to see you, and Beulah again.”

The reception he received in heaven, I’m quite confident, is greater than he ever imagined. As countless souls line up to share with him their Harold Salem story of how he touched their life, how they accepted Jesus because of his preaching, and how their souls will spend eternity with God because of him.

Heaven is fuller because of Harold Salem’s life. And I can think of no greater compliment to offer a human being.

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