Blind minister reaches out to elderly

The Rev. L.M. Simmons is 79 and blind, coping with a problematic heart and slowing pace. Nearly 40 years ago, God "opened the door," and Simmons does not have the strength to shut it.

"When God calls you into a ministry, which he did me in 1970, you can't get out of that ministry," he says.

It's a ministry he loves: sharing Christ's gift of salvation with the aged and infirm living in area nursing homes.

Love

"Smile at somebody!" he tells the gathering at Life Care Center of Charleston. "May all of us in this room be a blessing to somebody today."

And then Arthur and Mary Risinger start the music. Mary plays the guitar and sings. Arthur plays the harmonica and mandolin. They perform classics: "Will the Circle Be Unbroken," "Amazing Grace," "Down by the River Side."

The elderly sit quietly, listening, thinking their thoughts. A few tap a foot or finger, or nod their heads a little to the music.

Simmons sits erect in his chair, knees together, his hands patting a worn Bible to the rhythm of the songs.

The music captivates the small nursing home audience for about 20 minutes before Simmons rises to preach.

"God loves you!" are the first words out of his mouth. "Why? Because God made you in his image. God is love. We are made in the image of love. I'm talking about spiritual things," he assures his listeners, then begins to speak of "Christ Jesus."

Why do we say "Christ Jesus" and not "Jesus Christ," he asks. "He was God's Christ before he became man's Jesus."

And then Simmons, unable to see the faces before him, talks of God's compassion. "Why did you wake up another day? Because he loves you. He did not consume you because of his mercy."

These words may seem harsh, but it appears to be what his audience wants to hear. Mildred Burris, a resident at the nursing home, says Simmons' words remind all that God is good, also to them. The devil lurks everywhere, she says.

"It really helps us build our faith and trust," she says. "It gives us something to look forward to."

Strength

Simmons, who once visited five nursing homes a month but has since reduced his circuit to three, was not always a God-fearing, blind preacher. He was born in 1930, poor, on a farm in Barnwell County. His family was religious, and the young Simmons learned the ways of the Lord growing up, he says.

"I never got away from God until the Army."

He joined the service in 1953 during the Korean War. He said he was taught ungodly lessons: to kill or be killed. He found work with the Atomic Energy Commission at the Savannah River Site not far from his hometown of Williston.

The facility employed physicists and bombmakers. It is where the hydrogen bomb was developed on orders from President Harry Truman, beginning in 1951.

"I didn't want to get involved in that," Simmons says. "So I went into TNT."

He was assigned work along the nearby railroads, but then realized the rail cars were hauling materials for the fusion bombs.

It was 1956, four years after the United States' first thermonuclear test, called Ivy Mike, on the Enewetak Atoll in the Pacific Ocean. At the Savannah River Site, Simmons felt he was too close to destructive forces. He was 26. He says he wanted to quit, but didn't.

One day, he went to the cafeteria to eat lunch, where, suddenly, he lost his sight.

"What's wrong?" a co-worker asked him.

"I don't feel good," he replied, closing his eyes and laying his head on the table.

A million black dots flickered in his field of vision. Eventually, his sight returned.

Years later, in 1969, Simmons nearly died. Heart blockage provoked cardiac arrest and required bypass surgery.

When he recovered, he was blind again, this time for good.

A friend who owned the Twin Oaks Villa Assisted Living facility on Dorchester Road offered to make a room available to Simmons during his recovery. He was there more than a year, blind, unhappy.

Lon and Tammy Eidem would visit a relative at Twin Oaks. The Eidems and Simmons became acquainted. Then they became friends.

When Simmons was sufficiently recuperated, he moved into a mobile home. He returned to Barnwell County for a time.

Then the Eidems invited him to move in with them. Then they named their son, Lee Marvin, after Simmons.

Though Simmons has family in Barnwell County, including four daughters and a wife living at an assisted-living facility in Williston, he continues to live with the Eidems, he says.

"I came down here to retire," he says. "I came down here to die."

Instead, he lives with a family who calls him "Papa." He has been there many years. He hasn't the strength to shut the door.

Commitment

In 1970, after a trying period of ill health and mental anguish, Simmons returned to the lap of God. He was ordained a minister and soon joined Pleasant Grove Baptist Church in Summerville.

He wanted to teach. He had friends and family read the Bible aloud to him. He began to internalize its messages and memorize its passages.

"God's given him a memory," Arthur Risinger says.

Then one Sunday morning at church, 17-year-old Gwen Joy stood up and declared she wanted to dedicate her life to Jesus. Simmons was moved. The church had been sending parishioners into nursing homes, and it was time again for the monthly visit. Simmons, the words of Joy ringing in his ears, volunteered.

But how could he read the Bible to the elderly? How could he convey his growing faith and love? He invited Joy to go along and be his eyes.

Day and night, he studied the Bible, listening as others read passages, sleeping when the sun shone, sometimes sleeping at the church when the weather was hot. He was beginning to see again, not with his eyes but with his heart.

The door opened to him at a Blackville nursing home. The ministry is still active there today, he says. Then Simmons visited another. And another. His blindness was an asset, he says. Those who see cannot help but pass judgment on others based on appearances, he says.

"Blindness helps you remain honest." And honesty leads to love, and love puts a smile on his face. "I want other people to have what I have, maybe a million times more."

Ann Ramsey, activities manager at Life Care Center in North Charleston, says the residents of the Christian-based nursing home are encouraged by Simmons; many participate in Bible studies and Sunday morning worship and look forward to their visits with the blind preacher.

Simmons has been coming to Life Care Center for nearly a decade, Ramsey says. "He a really committed, dedicated, nice person."

The residents love the old-time gospel music. Those with dementia often remember the older tunes, she says.

And the feelings are reciprocated.

"Nursing homes are full of wisdom," Simmons says. "The sad thing is nobody wants it."

Spirit

On a recent Monday morning, Life Care Center resident Roy Tant enjoyed the music of Arthur and Mary Risinger and remembered his teen years in Barnwell County. Tant knew the young Simmons. The two families had farms in close proximity.

Simmons was sharing his love, preaching from Scripture.

"I want on my tombstone, 'This man had the love of God in his heart,' " he tells his audience. "I'd rather have the love of God in my heart than my eyesight."

Then he quotes Jesus from the Gospel of John, Chapter 14:

"Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."

Your spirit goes back to God, he tells them. Your spirit is going to be where Jesus is.

"When you cross over, that's the beginning of a new life." There, strife is absent. There is only "pure, unadulterated love."

Then Simmons talks about the internal struggle between the physical and spiritual that every person must make.

"It's like two dogs fighting all the time," he says. "Which one wins? The one I feed the most."

And then, knowing that the physical being must also be fed, he brings things back to Earth, listing the items to be served for lunch.

"Round steak with gravy and biscuits, two slices of tomato, a glass of sweet tea ..."

And he smiles. And he bids the residents farewell.

"God bless you," he says. "See you next month."

Exiting, he leaves the door open.

Reach Adam Parker at 937-5902 or aparker@postandcourier.com.