Shaking hands with Jimmy Carter

January 9 has been declared a National Day of Mourning in honour of the 39th President of the United States, who died at the age of 100 on December 29.

This cartoon was distributed during the 10th Anniversary Celebration for Habitat for Humanity. Mine is hand-signed, and has a place of honour in my home office.

During the sweltering spring and summer of 1986 I lived in Sumter County Georgia, and slept in an old farmhouse that had bullet holes in the walls. 

I also met former President Jimmy Carter, and former First Lady Rosalynn Carter.

The Carters, as well as their Secret Service detail came to visit while I was summer intern at Koinonia Farm, which is about 10 miles from Plains. 

Koinonia was founded in 1942 as a “demonstration plot for the Kingdom of God.” The bullet holes in the farmhouse walls were from the years in which their neighbors objected to their efforts towards racial integration. 

You can read about the inspiring history and ongoing mission of Koinonia at: https://www.koinoniafarm.org/brief-history/

Koinonia was also the birthplace and inspiration for Habitat for Humanity, the worldwide housing ministry to which Jimmy and Rosalynn dedicated much time and effort.

The Carters rode their bicycles from Plains to join us for Sunday afternoon worship, followed by a community meal. The heat did not seem to bother them.

Their Secret Service detail did not ride bikes. They had a lead car and a following van. Each agent had the ear-bud with the curly-wired leads we’ve all seen in the movies, that went down under their collared shirts, over which they all wore matching blue blazers, which tastefully hid their holstered weapons.

As I remember, there were 4 agents, who placed themselves near the exits of the dining hall where we met for worship. (I thought of those strong young men this week as I watched 6 former Secret Service agents escort Mr. Carter’s casket from the hospital in Americus to the funeral coach.)

I was the worship leader and preacher the day the Carters joined us. I have no idea what I said, and it’s a blessing none of my notes survived. I’d had a whole two years of seminary training and possessed far more confidence than practical wisdom.

The Carters were as gracious as you’d expect, and Mr. Carter extended an invitation for the following Sunday, for our intern group to attend his class at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains. 

Five years after the Carters left the White House, people flocked to Plains to go to Sunday School. When we pulled into the church parking lot in the Koinonia van, the same one we used to run to town to pick up groceries (and the occasional clandestine case of beer) we saw license plates from almost every state.

On that day, Mr. Carter taught about the ancient history of Israel, with many references to the Camp David accords, and the Arab-Israeli Peace Process. 

Before the formal lesson, Mr. Carter introduced the Koinonia summer interns. He said all of our names, and told the large crowd (there were hundreds in the auditorium) where we were from. 

When he got to me, he introduced me as the sole Canadian in the group. He said he continued to be grateful for the involvement of Canada in the rescue of American diplomats from Tehran in 1980. 

I received a handshake from a former president, and an enthusiastic round of applause from those gathered in that church auditorium.

Thirty years later, I told this story to my daughter, and she quoted me as a primary source for a high school history paper. 

It’s hard to say which was the greater honour.