“Brandon, remember this: the Christian life is not like riding a bicycle.”
A proverb engraved into the walls of my heart. Wise words that have served as guardrails for me on the narrow road that leads to everlasting life. A pocketful of truth I will carry with me forever. Something the Spirit has brought back to my mind whenever I was tempted to backslide or grow lukewarm—words I have used many times over to exhort others who were likewise tempted. But, though this sanctifying saying is saturated with biblical truth, it does not come directly from the Bible. It came from a man steeped in the Scripture: John Norman Plumley (Sept. 30, 1973 – May 26, 2026).
When I heard these life-changing words, I was a babe in Christ—eager to grow, but vulnerable to indwelling sin, old habits, and the enticements of the world. And this godly man who walked plenty of miles with Jesus told me exactly what I needed to know, exactly when I needed to know it, and exactly how I needed to hear it. This was just a few months after I first visited his home to tell him how Christ saved my soul. When I first became a Christian, I wanted to tell everyone, and started with my hometown of Bandana, Kentucky. And I couldn’t wait to get to his house.
I knew him a while before I knew him as a brother-in-Christ, of course. In my “before Christ” days, I was a rebellious and rambunctious preteen running the roads of Bandana and raising cane on every street with his son, whom we all called “Little Johnny.” Even then, I greatly admired John. I thought the man knew everything about everything—especially cars, motorcycles, dirtbikes—heck, anything that had wheels and an engine. And talk about quick-witted—I remember often wondering, “How does he always have a joke at the ready?”
Evidently, he had gracious words for up-building always ready, too. I don’t know if he came up with it himself, or where he heard it—but I have never been able to unhear it. The meaning was simple enough for a newborn Christian like myself to understand. When you get off a bike for a while, you can jump back on like no time has passed at all. It all comes back to you naturally. But following Christ is radically different—and much more difficult. When you get behind in your Bible reading for a while, it’s hard to get back on the saddle. When you neglect daily prayer, it’s difficult for it to feel natural again. You’ve got to stick with it. It takes determined effort and discipline.
How many times have I gone without reading my Bible and thought of these words? How many times have I grown lax in praying and seen his face in my mind?
This is why in John’s final days, I told him that he did things that count for eternity. He impacted people in ways most never will. He sent treasures ahead of him to heaven. Most believers are familiar with the idiom, “Only one life, ‘twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.” I do not know if John ever knew that phrase, but he certainly lived by it.
John’s life is also a testimony that the Lord can use anyone at any time at any place to do anything. If you didn’t know, the last season of John’s life was spent for the kingdom of God. He became an evangelistic Gideon. He served faithfully as a deacon. He did incredible mission work. He finished his race on earth running.
It is also not news that John received news no one wants to hear: an aggressive cancer diagnosis. I remember hearing about it and thinking it felt deeply unfair. John was a choice servant of the Lord, a loving father, a devoted husband, an exemplary churchman, and an inspiring Christian. A man like that being plagued with cancer just didn’t seem right, if I’m being honest.
But through it all, he held onto faith until his faith became sight recently. In all my years of pastoral ministry, I have seen the faith of many weaken when receiving such a tragic and life-altering verdict. I have seen several more abandon the faith when their cross was too heavy to bear. But not John. The heavier his cross, the tighter his hold on Christ.
Now, his hands are in the nail-scarred hands. His head has been adorned with the countless crowns of glory he stored up on earth. There are untold numbers of people who have a Bible in their hands because of John. And who knows how many people read the Scripture, bow their heads to pray, preach Christ with fervor, and keep on keeping on because a man named John Plumley pointed them to Jesus with his words and life? I know at least one.
John taught me that the Christian life is not like riding a bicycle. And because of the godly legacy he leaves behind, many of us will keep pedaling on the path of righteousness.
Brandon is the pastor of Bandana Baptist Church in Bandana, Kentucky, where he lives with his wife, Dakota, their much-prayed for son, Oliver, and their three dogs. Brandon and Dakota previously served as foster parents through Sunrise Children’s Services of Kentucky. Brandon is also a published author and his Bible Gleanings columns are featured in over sixteen publications throughout Kentucky, Illinois, Tennessee, and Indiana. He is also a devotional contributor for Kentucky Today,a news publication of the Kentucky Baptist Convention, and an editor at Reforming the Heart.
One eulogy is not enough to honor the life and love of my mother. One funeral service is not sufficient to share hundreds of precious memories and the unforgettable ways in which she impacted people. One lifetime cannot possibly repay her kindness and sacrifices. Only one eternity will do to give thanks to the Lord God and His Son Jesus for the gracious gift of my mother.
You may have known her as Connie Ann, as a neighbor, a friend, or family—but I knew her as “mom.” As a matter of fact, when I was little and someone told me her name, I swiftly corrected them, “No, her name is ‘Mom.’”
Mom gave me the gift of life—existence itself. God formed and nurtured me in her womb, and she nurtured me as a son. And I couldn’t have asked for a better mother. Proverbs 31 was written centuries ago with mothers like her in mind:
“She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household . . . She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy . . . Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue . . . Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her” (Prov. 31:15, 20, 25, 26, 28).
That’s how I remember her. I can only imagine how many times in the midnight hour she rose to tend to me as a baby. But I do not have to rely on imagination to know how many times I got in trouble for staying up past the midnight hour.
She always opened her hand to those in need. She took care of her grandparents who raised her until they took their final breaths. She tenderly cared for nursing home residents when she cooked meals there. When she delivered meals to senior citizens, she would not just bring food—she would go inside and bless them with the warmth of her presence. She even opened up her own home to many family members who just needed a place to stay for a while until they got back on their feet.
And she always took care of me. Whenever I cried, she was there to hold me. Whenever I got a scrape or cut, she was there to nurse and kiss it. Even as an adult, she was the first one I’d call when I was carrying a heavy burden (although, thank God she wasn’t a phone receptionist—answering the phone was not one of her strengths).
She was so full of love, too. There are too many stories of her love to share, but one stands out: she took to my wife instantly. When my wife and I first broke up in high school, I remember my mom saying, “Brandon, you are making a big mistake.” And I just learned recently that she told my now-wife in the school pickup line, “Honey, I know my son broke up with you, but you and me are still friends.” She wasn’t even on my side! I didn’t even know how close they were until a few days ago. My wife was showing me photos on her phone of them going out shopping all the time once we got married. One time they even went bowling together, and I didn’t get any invitation!
She had a big heart for two-legged creatures like us, and for four-legged creatures like cats and dogs. I can’t remember any time we didn’t have animals running around the house and yard. Bandana was always a drop-off town for stray animals, but it didn’t take long before they found their way to our house.
There are too many to list, but one I remember was a dog named Missy Poo, which she adopted from an elderly man who was placed in the nursing home who couldn’t keep it. We had cats of all colors, and countless dogs: a cocker spaniel, a Pomeranian, a mutt my dad rescued from the interstate, a shepherd mix, and two lab mixes—those were just the strays. We had beagles, Jack Russels, and one boxer as well. She even raised a squirrel that we had for many years. Our home was a sanctuary where animals were treated like family.
Mom also loved to be outside. She had a green thumb—something she didn’t pass on to me. She always smelled like earth from tending to and planting flowers. Our yard was always teeming with greenery and life, and nearly all the bushes and flowers there today were planted by her. In fact, our backroom would be transformed into a jungle in the winter—we’d have to bring in all the real valuable plants from outside so they wouldn’t freeze.
Mom loved to cut up, too. She was always laughing and always had a playful insult in her pocket, ready to throw at anyone with a weird haircut, funny-looking clothes, or for just walking funny. If someone’s hair was unkempt, she’d say things like, “Somebody put their finger in an electric socket.” Sometimes, we’d just look at each other and laugh when someone funny looking came around. And Lord help anyone who cut her off in traffic or sped around her while we were driving. I don’t know why, but if someone was speeding around her, she’d say, “Somebody’s in a hurry to get a bag of chips!”
We were always laughing together. When I was a kid, we were at Wal-Mart during a heavy rain and it made her hair curl, and I said, “Mom, you look like George Washington.” And from that day forward, a tradition was born—anytime her hair was messy, she would say, “Bran, I got George Washington hair.”
I can also remember, one of our neighbors would mow the property next to us, and there was a big walnut tree. And he would send walnuts flying like missiles against the side of our house, and anytime he’d mow, she’d say, “Get down, we’re under attack!” We’d also laugh about how she didn’t believe in expiration dates. She had medicine and food that was five years expired, and she’d say it was still good.
I can’t possibly paint a full portrait of my mother’s life, but the most important thing about her is that she was a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. She wasn’t a perfect Christian—none of us are—but she entrusted her soul to a perfect Savior. And she pointed my soul to that perfect Savior. I wouldn’t be a believer without her. That’s why I am so indebted to her—she gave me life, and pointed me to the Christ who gave me everlasting life.
We didn’t go to church that often until I was a teenager—and she would drag me to church many Sundays. One morning in the summer I had stayed up all night, playing outside until 7 am, and she found me and said, “C’mon, we’re going to church.”
I heard the gospel over and over, and saw the gospel in my mother. One night, we had a terrible family situation transpire, and she took the floor and said, “What we need to do right now is pray.” I had never prayed before in my life—well, once I did when the police were looking for me and my childhood friend after we had thrown mud at cars by the hardware store (that’s another story for another time). But something else—Someone else, rather—took control of me, and I said, “I’ll pray with you, mom.” We went into the bathroom, she knelt down and her prayer shocked me. She said,
“Lord Jesus, we thank You for dying on the cross for our sins. Thank You for sending Jesus to save us. Please help us get through this. Please, Lord.”
And I remember thinking, “Wait a minute. What does Jesus got to do with this? If God answers prayer, shouldn’t you be asking Him for His help? Why is Jesus so important?”
And that’s when it hit me: Jesus mattered more to her than the situation getting better. Christ dying on the cross for sinners is what it’s all about. And then I began to make all the connections—I was that sinner Christ died for. I needed Him to save me. And only a few hours later, I went to my parents’ backyard and gave my life to Christ. All because my mom took me to church, exemplified the gospel, and prayed for me.
And it didn’t stop there. She nurtured me in the faith. She prayed with me every morning before school. We read Scripture together. She got me my first study Bible ever. She was there for dozens of my first sermons. I would often read my sermons aloud in her bedroom for her critique and suggestions. She spent so much time discipling me.
And this is why, while she suffered at the hospital, eventually my desire for her to depart this world became greater than my selfish desire for her to stay on this earth. I felt a peace wash over me when I saw her pass. Because I knew that in that very instant, she was translated to glory with Christ. After her last breath on earth, she took her first breath of heaven’s blissful air. She instantly entered a place of “no-mores.” No more sorrow, sin, death, or mourning. She joined heaven’s choir of angels and saints, and is at this very moment, singing praises to Christ around His throne. She prepared a place in her heart for Jesus, and He prepared a place in heaven for her—and she settled in the moment she left us on Wednesday.
This is why the Scripture says that we grieve not as others do who have no hope. We have hope. Those of us who believe in Christ like she did have the hope of seeing her again, and most importantly, of seeing Jesus. If you have repented of your sins, trusted in Christ, and committed to follow Him for life, you are not saying, “Goodbye” to Connie Bramlett. You are simply saying, “I’ll see you again.”
But I must tell you, while I grieve to the depth of my bones at times for the passing of my mother, I grieve much more for anyone who does not have this hope. Some of you have not turned from your sins to trust in Christ, and you have no hope of seeing my mother again or ever seeing the eternal kingdom of God. But it is good that you are thinking about death. The Scripture says that it is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart. In other words, it’s better to go to more funerals than parties, because every funeral is a preview of you.
You are going to die. You are not invincible. One day, your number will be called and you will meet the Lord in judgment. If you are forgiven through believing in Christ, you will hear the most blessed words of all, “Well, done, my good and faithful servant. Enter the kingdom prepared for you before the foundation of the world.” But if your sins are unforgiven because you do not believe in Jesus, you will hear the most harrowing words of all, “I never knew you. Depart from me you workers of iniquity.”
For those of you who do not believe, do you understand the level of eternal danger you are in? Hell is beneath your feet, and your foot is about to slip. God would be perfectly just to open the mouth of hell to receive your soul before I finish this sentence. You are one heartbeat away from separation from God—one breath away from paying for your sins in a burning eternity where you will suffer under the wrath of God forever. And forever is a long time. The human mind cannot possibly conceive it, but consider this. Judas betrayed Christ in unbelief over 2,000 years ago, and it is as though today is his first day in hell.
And why is the punishment so severe? We have offended an eternal God with our sins. We have all broken His commandments. Lying, stealing, taking the name of the Lord in vain, lusting after someone, failing to keep the Sabbath, failing to love God with all our hearts—all of these things are treasonous crimes to a holy God.
And, what’s worse, He is the just judge of all people. And what do just judges do with crimes? They punish them. So does God, and the punishment for sin is death, hell, and separation from God forever.
You are in serious trouble with God if you are unforgiven. And that is why you need Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. Jesus died the death you deserved on the cross. He paid your sin debt in full. God the Father tried and judged Him in your place. He was separated from God for a time so you’d never have to be. God treated Him like a sinner—pouring out the full weight of His wrath upon Him—so that He could treat you like a son or a daughter.
But to be saved and go to heaven, you have to do what my mother did—what the Scripture commands you to do. And that is to repent and believe. It’s that simple. To repent means to turn away—to turn your back on the life you’ve been living without Christ and kiss it goodbye. To say to Jesus, “I’m not living this way anymore. I’m done.” But you must also believe in Jesus, which means trusting in Him and His finished work as sufficient for your salvation. Believe that Christ is enough. Believe that only He can forgive your sins, reconcile you to holy God, and write your name in heaven.
Do not put this off. I hear many people say, “Well, I’ll start following Jesus later in life when I’m older.” You may not have later, but you have now. That’s why the Scripture says, “Today is the day of salvation.” Do it now. Repent and believe in Christ now.
God may give you 65 years on this earth like He gave my mother. He may give you 81 years of life like He gave my grandfather. There is no way of knowing how long we will live. What we do know is that life is short, a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes. We know that our time is in God’s hands. We know that it is appointed unto man once to die and after this is the judgment. And we know that if we do not believe, we will suffer in hell. We know that if we do believe, we will enter heaven where my beloved mother is. And perhaps the only reason you are hearing this is because God is calling you to be saved.
If my mother were here right now, what she would want more than anything in the world is for you to repent and trust in Christ. Nothing matters more than that. And while our grief is natural—simply unexpressed love as I say it is—she would not want us to grieve. She’d want us to rejoice—to give glory to God that she is absent from the body and present with the Lord. The true Connie—my true mother—the soul that we loved who loved us—is with Christ forevermore.
Brandon is the pastor of Bandana Baptist Church in Bandana, Kentucky, where he lives with his wife, Dakota, their much-prayed for son, Oliver, and their three dogs. Brandon and Dakota previously served as foster parents through Sunrise Children’s Services of Kentucky. Brandon is also a published author and his Bible Gleanings columns are featured in over sixteen publications throughout Kentucky, Illinois, Tennessee, and Indiana. He is also a devotional contributor for Kentucky Today,a news publication of the Kentucky Baptist Convention, and an editor at Reforming the Heart.
Tomorrow I preach the funeral of one of the most loved students at our church. She was one of the sweetest young ladies I ever knew, and it was a privilege and honor to be her youth pastor for many years. Preaching her funeral is not something I’ve ever thought once of doing since the moment I met her. I certainly didn’t think it would be this soon. This is definitely the hardest thing that I’ve had to deal with as a minister. Below is my tribute to this wonderful young lady, who I loved very much.
“It takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, and a day to love them, but it takes an entire lifetime to forget them.”—Anonymous
Without a doubt, as our lives go on, you and I will never forget Theresa Hughes. We’ll always remember her and all the times she made us laugh, all the times she made us cry, all the times we had fun with her, all the hard times she helped us get through.
If you ever met her, I can guarantee you that you have positive memories with her. She was just an overall great-spirited person to be around. Never once did I ever hear an ill word utter from her lips. She was a bright, and always smiling young lady who made a lasting and positive impact on everybody who knew her.
That’s just the kind of person she was. You can’t say that about everybody, but you can sure say it about Theresa. She was friends with everybody in our youth group, and if she wasn’t your friend, it was just because you weren’t introduced to her!
I was her youth pastor for several years (since 2012), and because of this I have many wonderful memories with her. When I first came to Ohio Valley, she was one of the first persons I was introduced to. I knew from the day I met her that there was something special about her.
I could talk all day long about so many good memories and experiences that I had with her, but I’ll just highlight a few that stand out the most to me. I’ll never forget this one time she smashed a plate full of shaving cream right into my face. Yes, as a youth pastor, you have those type of experiences. Moral of the story: teenagers cannot be trusted with shaving cream.
We had an outdoor event, and I had just recently been hired by Ohio Valley to be their youth minister. I was rubbing elbows with all the students they had, getting to know them and their stories. And I was only briefly introduced to Theresa a few times, but I recall sitting down in a lawn chair and it got real quiet. I also didn’t see any of the other students around, and the next thing I know: SQQUIISSHH! I had a face (and mouth) full of shaving cream, and the culprit standing behind me was Theresa. Next thing you know, everyone is wiping shaving cream on everybody! (pictured above)
I’ll never forget all the times she sat in our Sunday school class and asked questions about the Bible. I’ll never forget all the discussions we had about the Bible on Wednesday nights with our youth. I’ll never forget about all the volleyball and kickball we played during VBS together. I’ll never forget about all the events she went to with our group, and how she fit right in with everybody.
But I thank God for the memory of her that is pressed in my mind. There’ll be times when you and I are at work, while we’re at school, while we’re in bed, or while we’re outside that we will remember Theresa and the good times we had with her and our hearts will be warmed by those wonderful memories.
Praise God for Theresa, and praise God for allowing us to know her, befriend her and love her these 18 years she was allotted to be with us on this earth. She was truly someone we will always remember, and someone we will always love and cherish.
Resources from the Ministry of Pastor Brandon G. Bramlett
Brandon's Desk 