Rev. Ron Christian of Christian Love Baptist Church will be missed by his congregation and Irvington community. The popular pastor died suddenly at the church.
He didn't wear a pastoral robe or a suit and tie in the pulpit. That was too formal for Rev. Ron Christian.
Wait.
In fact, that title was too formal, especially for the man who wore cowboy boots and a casual print shirt over ripped jeans.
Drop the last name, too. He was just Rev. Ron. He was different, down to earth and he wanted everybody to be themselves at Christian Love Baptist Church in Irvington.
If you ever visited, he blended in so well that you might have walked right past him on your way into the sanctuary - and you didn't realize he was the pastor until he started preaching the Gospel.
"He wanted people to see that we're not far apart,'' says Assistant Pastor Alfreddy Fletcher. "No matter what walk of life you come from, you should be able to walk in the church and see yourself.''
The congregation did that yesterday, looking to each other for comfort because Rev. Ron, 51, was no longer with them.
He died early in the morning at the church. Authorities have not announced a cause of death, but say no foul play is suspected.
William Christian, the pastor's father, says a church member who was with his son became concerned after noticing Christian had stopped breathing while sleeping in his church office.
Police and emergency units were called, then members began to call members. They gathered at the church as early as 7 a.m. Some had just dropped kids off to school. Others just left work.
They were out front and inside, and they did the only thing they knew how to do. They held a service. The worship team led them in prayer and song. It seemed like an ordinary Sunday, as if Rev. Ron would pop in with his boundless energy to lift them up with scripture.
His sister, Everette Christian, marveled at his drive, calling her brother supernatural, not only for his endurance to serve, but for his ability to forgive, even his enemies.
"He was an amazing life force,'' she says.
He was something else. His mother, Willie Mae Christian, was in labor 32 hours with him, but says he was always a blessing and a reliable family member who always knew what to say.
"He was the rock in the family that couldn't be chiseled,'' she says.
Rev. Ron, gone? Not like this. Not now. He was everything to everyone - pastor, son, father, brother, friend and confidant.
"He just belonged to everybody,'' his father says. "He crossed all lines."
You could be black or white, a professor or pimp, a doctor or a prostitute, gay, straight, transgender or anything in between, as Rev. Ron would sometimes say.
He didn't judge. His journey from cocaine and heroin addiction, as well as time spent in prison, wouldn't let him. Instead, he became a Baptist preacher like his father and welcomed everyone who walked through the church doors on Lyons Avenue.
"It was something I had been praying for all of his life,'' says William Christian. I was thankful that God had made that choice for his life.''
When Rev. Ron took over the church in 2001, the membership grew rapidly. Christian Love became the community church, which sponsored a "Fun Day" event in the summer that families in the neighborhood looked forward to every year. There would be food, music and games for the kids.
The church was a refuge, even for those in trouble, such as gang members and drug dealers, who often called Rev. Ron for help in surrendering to law enforcement.
In times of death, members say it was common for Rev. Ron to reach into his own pocket to pay for anybody's funeral or to go above and beyond normal pastoral duties.
LaTronia Sanders, the mother of the church, says her sister died three years ago in a fiery car accident with a tanker truck. She says Rev. Ron, whom she calls her best friend, identified her sister's body because she was too distraught.
"He took on everything as if she was his daughter,'' she says. "He's like the father I never had.''
Everyone has a story that sticks. Some are emotional like this one, others are funny, including the time he danced his way down the aisle of another church he was visiting with his members.
"I just fell in love with him after that,'' says Barbara Turner, comparing their entrance to the "Soul Train" line.
The stories - and there are many - are spiritual, too, because members say he was a man of God. Margaret Woodson says she and her brother were visiting Rev. Ron's church when he became pastor. His sermon, she says, was titled, "Bring your brother to church.''
"We walked down the aisle and joined the church that day,'' says Woodson.
However you met him, whatever was said, it was lasting. And regardless of what you were going through in life, Fletcher says, Rev. Ron would love you to a better place.
It was his mantra and he wanted all of us to do that for each other.
Love.
Barry Carter may be reached at bcarter@starledger.com or (973) 836-4925. Follow him on Twitter at @BarryCarterSL.