Safe in the Arms of Jesus

My dear daddy, Kye Harris, left this earth yesterday and went to the arms of Jesus. The cause of death was pneumonia, which he had struggled so valiantly with many times over the last few years. Thank God, He answered our prayers and Daddy went home peacefully, without struggle.

Daddy was the 10th of 12 children, born in south Georgia in the midst of the Great Depression. Stories of his childhood always fascinated us children growing up. As an adult, we loved to sit and listen to him and his siblings tell those stories and laugh at themselves, each time revealing little secrets about one another.

When the Second World War began, he was 14 and tried to join the Navy. They (wisely) sent him home. When he was 15, he succeeded in joining the U.S. Marines and was sent to the Pacific theater. There he engaged in combat in four major battles including the Marshall Islands, Saipan, Tinian and Iwo Jima and received the Purple Heart for numerous wounds.

Although Daddy grew up in a Christian home, he went to war lost. The Lord graciously used that war to draw him to Himself, and he was saved in a foxhole, a true foxhole conversion. When he returned home at 18, he and my mother, who was 17 at the time, were married shortly after. They prayed and told the Lord, “If there is a job You need done and you can’t get anyone else to do it, we’ll do it. If there is a place you need someone, and you can’t get anyone else to go, Lord, we’ll go there.” And they did.

We were really, really poor in my early years, but Daddy made life fun (though he also trained us to be good Marines!). We traveled the United States (frugally) and spent years and miles meeting God’s people (friendships which endure to this day) and speaking in Bible conferences. We thought we had moved up in the world when he took a pastorate in New Mexico and had a regular paycheck.

When I was a teen, we moved back to North Carolina, and Daddy never failed to have a Bible conference or teaching series going on, sometimes for weeks. Along the way, the Lord convicted him that God’s children did not belong in state schools, and he began a ministry of pioneering Christian schools and colleges, eventually numbering more than 70 all across the U.S.

The last time I saw Daddy, on Tuesday, I held his hand and told him how eternally thankful I am that he poured himself into his relationship with his children. He saturated our every day with the Word of God. We learned the Word, memorizing lengthy passages as well as learning deep principles, from a very early age. Of course, I thought it was punishment to sit through all those hours and hours of Bible teaching, in conferences as well as at home, but how I bless my father for his wisdom! What a strong foundation he gave us! And it is our privilege to pass that on to our children and grandchildren.

Yes, a weary warrior has gone home. His suffering is over. Of course, we mourn, and Mother is lost without him, but we are so thankful the Lord has him in His care now. He is with my little sister Ginger and his parents and dear friends who went before. He is waiting for us, and it is our honor to carry the torch and pass it to the next generation.

I want to thank all of our dear friends who faithfully lifted him up. Please continue to pray for the family, especially Mother. She is a strong woman, but of course this is hard for her. The funeral is November 3 in Winter Haven FL, and his earthly temple will be committed to the ground on Monday, November 5, at the National Cemetery in Bushnell, FL. Thank you for reading this lengthy tribute. May the Lord receive glory and honor in this time of grief – that would be Daddy’s highest desire.