Dr. Cook was a gentleman.
Think how rare such a simple description must be.
He was as gracious to the person serving the table as he was to the honored guest. Once I saw him, when he could not know I was watching, grow quietly mournful when he heard a student was suffering. Biola is a big place and such compassion in a leader of a major educational institution is perhaps more talking about than seen.
I saw it in Dr. Cook.
He was willing, perhaps too willing, to give others the credit for the major initiatives of his presidency, but he was the steady hand that made any initiative possible. He was not a self-promoter, but a Christ-honoring man.
If Moses was the meekest man who ever lived, then Dr. Cook as I knew him was surely of his kind. Mercy without weakness is rare, but he had both.
He was a man one could trust in a crisis to act gently, calmly, and with dignity. He had seen the worst in men in World War II, but believed in the power of the grace of God to cure all men.
Many students I knew genuinely loved him. Again, this is devoutly wished for in higher education, but few sacrifice as he did to make it possible. His zeal for students and for making Biola possible for them was also real. He wanted, I know how badly he wanted, everyone to be able to come to Biola who wished it.
So this Saturday morning, the Reynolds’ family faces the loss of a man my children would toast each Christmas as one of the chief founders of our jollification. They were stunned by the news and drifted off in silence to their rooms. The center may hold, but it slipped a bit for them Friday night.
He is only the second member of Torrey to pass away and it is hard to think of Biola University without him.
We will meet, but we will miss him.
