Gary was the tallest of the three "Ivory Tower" rookies at the Far East Advanced School of Theology (FEAST, now Asia Pacific Theological Seminary), then in Metro Manila, Philippines. Fresh out of seminaries, Robert Menzies, Gary, and I formed an energetic, out-of-the-box, and youthful "gang" in the faculty. Some students were older than ourselves and we tried to stay just one day ahead of the class lessons! 

We have almost solved all the world's problems, including challenges in (Pentecostal) theological education. Full of ambitions and grand plans, we dreamt of a beacon of Pentecostal scholarship to lead global Pentecostalism right from the squeezy Ivory Tower. Although three small desks did not leave much room for the three of us to move about, our hearts were always flying in a vast space. 

Although details are no longer in my memories, we and some students were audacious enough to launch an academic periodical in 1985(?), New Horizons,  to foster the lofty dream. Gary always had the last word of wisdom. 

Then we all left for our own doctoral studies! Bob Menzies and I returned to the seminary, now in Baguio City. We longed for Gary, the third member, to resume the Ivory Tower legacy! I personally wanted to benefit from his rich knowledge of the Ancient Near East to enhance my own understanding of the Old Testament. That day never came to our devastation. By the way, the seminary saw a well-established journal, Asian Journal of Pentecostal Studies. Not many would know the deep roots of the seminary's scholarly prowess, but Gary, you laid a rich foundation. Now you will have more time to read it up there! Yes, I will finally sit down with you to pick your brain on the Ancient Near East. In the meantime, we miss you, dear friend! 

When I learned of Gary’s passing, I felt a mixture of emotions: sadness for his family and friends, the latter of which includes me; but also, thankfulness for Gary’s impact on my life. I knew Gary as a friend during three stages of his life. First, Gary and I played the trumpet together in our middle-school jazz band. This took place during the short period when Gary’s family returned to the U.S. for a furlough from their missionary service. I have fond memories of our time together — four of us from the same church played our trumpets in that jazz band — and the fun we shared during those early days of our youth. We produced some pretty good jazz for young musicians, but the friendships formed and the experiences shared were far more lasting and significant than the music.

Secondly, Gary and I (along with our wives) were reunited in the early years of our adult lives. We had both just finished graduate programs and taught together for one year at the Far East Advanced School of Theology in Manila of the Philippines (1984-85; now the Asia Pacific Theological Seminary, Baguio City). Gary’s enthusiasm for academic study of the Bible and his dedication to pursuing PhD studies had a profound impact on my life. Without Gary’s influence, I do not believe I would have been able to walk through the doors that the Lord would later open for me, which included PhD studies at the University of Aberdeen. At the time, Gary was eagerly seeking acceptance into the PhD program in Northwest Semitic Languages at the University of Chicago. I vividly recall the day that Gary received an impressive looking envelope from the University of Chicago. Three young faculty members shared a single office located on the second floor of the “Ivory Tower.” Wonsuk Ma (now of Oral Roberts University), Gary, and I shared this office and coined the nickname. All of us would later go on to earn PhDs and teach in various institutions; no doubt, due in part to Gary’s influence. We called our office the “Ivory Tower” because it was located on the top floor of a small building positioned behind the seminary’s main building. Gary breathlessly held the envelope before us. As he opened it up and pulled out the letter enclosed within, all eyes were fixed upon him. When he read the joyful news that he had been accepted into the University of Chicago’s prestigious program, we all erupted with shouts of joy and thanksgiving. In the midst of riotous laughter and wild celebration, Gary became quiet and his countenance, sober. Wonsuk and I stopped our frivolity and looked at Gary, who in solemn tones declared, “I don’t know if I want to attend a school that would accept me.” There was a slight pause and then unbridled, raucous laughter filled the room. The three of us together laughed until we cried. I have seldom laughed that hard. That was Gary. It was a memory I still cherish.

Finally, during my time of study in Aberdeen, Scotland, Gary and Kathryn visited my wife, Joanne, and I for a time of reconnecting, sight-seeing, and fun. Joanne and I had purchased a small camping trailer (in Britain they called it a “caravan”) that we pulled with our Ford Escort. When I say “small,” I do not exaggerate. The trailer was only 8.5 feet in length, barely long enough to contain a dinette, which converted into a small bed, and a bench on one end. The trailer was designed to enable one couple to sleep on the dinette-bed and a small child, on the bench. Gary was not a small man. His 6’5” height was matched nicely by Karthryn’s tall frame. So, there were four of us adults, and not small adults either. But we were undaunted and headed out for a tour of Britain, our little Escort pulling our small trailer behind.

The first night we spent in a campground near Cambridge. We arrived late and it was very dark. Although we had brought a tent, we decided to go the easy route and the four of us simply crammed into the trailer. One couple slept on the dinette and the other husband slept on the floor with legs tucked under the bench, while his wife slept on the bench. The space was so small that the one sleeping on the floor could not roll over without difficulty because there simply was not enough room.

That first evening I can’t recall who slept where since we traded places throughout the trip. What I do remember in vivid details is what happened the next morning. Joanne was the first of our group to exit the trailer. She was greeted by a nice British couple sitting nearby, next to their camper, drinking their morning tea. They offered Joanne a nice greeting. Then, I emerged from the trailer and the greetings were repeated. When Kathryn next emerged from the small trailer, a puzzled look shaped their faces. Finally, when all 6’5” of Gary emerged from the tiny trailer, the fourth in a seeming unending line, their mouths dropped to the ground. Our British neighbors blinked, wiped their eyes, and gaped in unbelief. Of course, we all loved it, especially Gary.

Over the intervening years, especially since Joanne and I have lived in China for most of the past 30 years, we have not had the opportunity to share other moments like these with Gary and Kathryn. Nevertheless, we will not forget these enduring moments, and several others. We will always with fondness and joy remember Gary. And I, in particular, will continue to thank God for Gary’s influence on my life in those early, formative years of my life.

With joy and thanksgiving,

Robert Menzies

I met Gary when I joined the Bethel faculty in 2013.  He would often walk by the painting studio (where I was teaching) with Bernon and Juan on their daily mailbox stops... we would chat or say hello and they were all welcoming and congenial.  I got to know Kat and Gary-the-fabulous-chef (with a wicked sense of humor) through Dave and Marion's parties, which introduced me to a number of excellent people and I am very grateful for that.  You could always hear his distinctive laugh resound in the midst of the fun.  A few years into my time at Bethel I joined the Faculty Senate and got to know another side of Gary: direct, seemingly fearless to raise hard questions, and deeply passionate about the institution, it's students and faculty.  A principled person.  I was sort of amazed at how he showed up in that space.  I have a real fear of public speaking and struggled at first to participate.  Watching Gary, I felt I could let the courage of my convictions overturn my anxiety about speaking up.  I shared this with him in an email exchange last year when he left.  I wrote: "I try to have courage but don't always know if I do. I always thought you did. I think about this quote from therapist Sheldon Kopp: 'You are free to do whatever you like. You have only to face the consequences.' I am often afraid but you have been a person that made me feel it was possible to be bold and honest. I have tried to do that in my department and in leadership roles beyond. So thank you for that. That's a good marker for me."  I'm glad I shared this with him - his fearlessness has had a lasting impact on me.  Love to you and the family, Kat.

Life with Gary, Part 1: My first experience of Gary was across the table at an interview. I'd applied for a job at Bethel University; Gary was chair of the search committee. A day before the designated time for our first chat in a hotel lounge in San Diego, I caught sight of him striding across the commons of the San Diego Conference Center. I'd looked him up online before, and so had a sense of what he looked like. The reality was unnerving in the first. He stood six feet five, his head was shaven (later, I learned that this was an action taken in solidarity with Alan in his figth with cancer), and he walked with a sense of purpose and determination, even with a touch of anger (to my imagination). Did I really want to work with a chap like such? That first impression was mollified, later on through the interview process. Gary picked me up at the airport for my on-campus visit. We stopped at United Noodle to pick up an article of grocery. (It was just his gracious way of introducing me to amenities in the city I might inhabit. That was Gary: looking into the fine details of welcome, anticipating the anxieties of someone contemplating transition.) The next morning he got me in his shiny new Ford. We went to breakfast at Keys Cafe. In transit to campus, I spilled coffee in his new car. I thought I'd be in for a harangue before this important day had even begun. No angry words. I might have detected a sigh, nothing more. Instead, I got a tour of the school's neighborhood in his now coffee-crusted carpeted car, and was afforded views of the school buildings from several angles. Geographical orientation for the maybe-new colleague. Just another of the thoughtful Garyisms that made my life with him as a friend and colleague immensely rewarding. Fifteen minutes before my leading of a class at the school (a part of the interview process), the effects of the Keys coffee set in. There's Gary at the door of the stall... tap tap; 'you're up in seven.' Awkward! Spilt coffee, runny bowel...this isn't going well. Out of the stall, strolling down the corridor; no judgment, barely a whiff of the rupture to my composure in the exchange that followed. 'Looking forward to your A-game, Bernon. Bring it on!' Ever the mindful host, my guide walked me through an introduction to this strange place and this still strange man. Angry Gary, noticeably, was dismissed in the course of the first hours of the day.

Gary Long welcomed me to Bethel University in 2014 and was one of the best reasons to show up to work. Gary made negronis – too good, too strong – that left me lost in Mears Park. Gary introduced me to one of Syd’s preferred bands: The Dead South. Gary officiated my kid’s wedding, and completely understood the moment. Gary philosophized and counseled and lamented when I wanted to take a flamethrower to a problem. Gary outwitted me at work and parties and Pizza Lucé happy hours. Gary got me; he once played the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack at a dinner party he hosted for us. Gary internally freaked out when my class went long before his class and he couldn’t set up his meticulously chosen YouTube video to set a tone for class. Gary rightfully scolded me for taking a joke too far. Gary said the thing that most of us wouldn’t because he gave a damn at all times. Gary changed who Deena was and who she wanted to be with his smashed potatoes. Gary never asked for anything of me, except to show up, which was the easiest thing. I miss Gary and regret every moment I didn’t spend with him when I could have.

I grew up with Gary at Faith Academy, a school for missionary kids in Manila, Philippines. He was in my older brother Scott's grade, 3 years above me, so I didnt really know him then, but certainly knew who he was. He achieved icon status in his senior year, in the early years of Faith's soccer program, when, as the starting goalie, he sacrificed his face diving for the ball in a one-on-one break-away situation in practice. His teammate missed the ball but found Gary's jaw. I was third or fourth string goalie that year, so was there at practice, and can still remember the sick feeling in my stomach watching Gary's motionless body lying in a heap on the ground at the other end of the field. To sacrifice one's body for the sake of the team, and for the love of the game, was, in that sports-crazy little missionary school, the highest calling. Needless to say, Gary walked an inch or two off the ground for a lowly, impressionable, aspiring freshmen jock like myself.

The next time I met Gary - and for the first time, really - as I dont think we said two words to each other when we were growing up, we had both reinvented ourselves as academics, and he was teaching Bible at Bethel College in MN and I was teaching theology at Drew Theological School in NJ. It was an accidental meeting, and a great surprise, an unexpected reconnection back to our shared upbringing. And as we spent a few minutes briefly catching up in his office, we briefly marveled at the distance we both had travelled since 1977 - not just geographical and chronological distance, but theological and cultural.

We did not get to explore exactly how far we both had come, and how closely aligned our respective journeys had been, even though traveling on entirely different tracks, until this last year. I still teach at Drew, in NJ, and live in NYC. Gary looks me up out of the blue, says they have moved to NJ, and asks if I wanted to get together. I said of course, and he met me at my neighborhood pub this fall. Over burgers and a few pints, we swapped stories, and again were struck at the long odds of us both not only ending up as academics, but as evangelical missionary kids from Faith Academy who had both struggled with, wrestled with, critiqued, and moved beyond the conservative white evangelical theology and culture that nurtured and shaped us, both landing in the relatively under-populated neighborhood where the good news about Jesus is seen to be universal in embrace while calling for progressive social visions and commitments, placing us on opposite sides of almost every political and social issue from the community that raised us. Over the course of many years, and circuitous travels, we had each felt ourselves to have been redeemed by this new hearing of the gospel, and it was as if we had been journeying alongside each other, step by step, while in fact our journeys had moved along very different geographical and social trajectories.

This reunion with Gary had a profound impact on me. It is rare, at least in my experience, to find other evangelical church kids of our generation - much less from Faith Academy! - who have moved left theologically and culturally in such similar ways and for reasons that resonate so strongly. It was a powerful sense of shared journey, of communion, of being fellow pilgrims on a path that is largely misunderstood and disapproved of by so many of the loved ones who raised us as well as those raised with us. It was like meeting a dear friend, a brother in arms, that I never new I had but who I have always needed. As I told Kathryn, after those couple of hours, it seemed certain we were going to be fast friends, with so much more to share, and we immediately started planning his next excursion into the city.

And then came the news, the day before our next day out.

I'm going to make that excursion over the holidays, visit the haunts, eat the food, raise the glasses, and think about Gary, be thankful for the gift of meeting him again, and miss my new good friend and fellow pilgrim, whose company and reassuring, confirming presence I will now have to live without. 

Good Christian fellowship in the olde style

Left: brew buddies, rooftop dessert, 25th anniversary; middle: pretending to be "fifty", role-playing dinner as Rev Hal Fyre; right: Mpls farmers' mkt, Guthrie Theatre

Left column: holiday skit, New Yrs Eve; right column: another new year, gloating over winning "Shady Cup"

I met Gary about twenty years ago when my kids were launching. In the newly empty house, I needed post-parenting friends. Gary was a perfect mate: genuinely pleased to connect, interested in everything, willing to say what he was thinking, but also ready to listen with an open heart.

I've described Gary—to Kathryn—as a safe space. He was someone that was willing to tackle any of my doubts, and to share whatever nerdy thing had my attention. He eagerly tried out my hobbies, spending a dozen years brewing beer with Joey and me. (We counted on him for final approval of all ale recipes. Duh.)

And I think this is related somehow to Gary's open perspective: he could also be really playful. I'm sorry to use the phrase "dance like nobody's watching" but that's apt. He fully inhabited his activities and didn't care too deeply how it looked. That occasionally made it tricky at work. He taught his students like they were the ones that mattered, that their lives were more important than the content. (But he certainly DID expect that his students should be prepared to let the content change them.) He didn't much care if someone thought he should have a different priority. Again, like no one is watching.

That playfulness was openly displayed to all who loved him. He was willing to dress up in goofy costumes if that's what the situation called for. Whether making a meal, putting on a skit, or participating in a prank. All in.

Gary was a professor of mine that I always described fondly as one of my favorite people I’ve ever learned from. He taught me to love learning and complexity, and was always a professor that took a genuine interest in his student’s lives. I’d recently reconnected with him and it made me miss learning from him and his ability to make a group laugh hysterically and learn deeply at the same time.

Thinking of his family this holiday. Thank you for sharing him with the rest of us for so many years. 

You are missed Gary.

I’m missing Gary deeply. Good friends since 2003. MANY fun happy hours together with great conversations and some middle school humor. One summer we talked the bartender at Pizza Luce to put the EuroCup on for us each afternoon. Gary, Chad and I would meet up there to watch the matches most days. It’s the simple connections like that that will be missed the most. And Gary correcting my grammar. And how he’d make fun of my pedestrian knowledge of wine. That man had an amazing palette and was a phenomenal cook (and mixologist). Rest in peace, Gary. My prayers for Kat, Syd, Alan, Sierra, Cora and Theo.

Young friends

Sake with Frances at Moto-i

Celebration for Adam (RIP) on rooftop at Lyn Lake Brewery

Gary reading my texts over my shoulder

A toast to Gary

Gary wins at Buck Hunter

After Gary officiated a wedding

Twins Game — with Gary, Dave and Scott

Coffee klatch with nespresso. Clooney would be proud of you, Gary.

Gary and Adam, traveling together and doing what they did best: contemplating how to challenge students to think more deeply.

I was deeply saddened to hear of Gary’s passing. I can’t imagine what the Long family is going through, but my thoughts are with all of you during this incredibly difficult time.

Throughout my high school years, Gary was a constant and grounding presence in my life. Alan’s house was practically a second home for me and our entire friend group; we were there almost daily, whether we were playing video games in the basement, hanging out in the backyard, or just existing together in that easy, formative way only teenagers can. Gary made that possible by making it clear, in both big and small ways, that we were always welcome.

He treated us not just as his son’s friends, but as guests he genuinely cared about. The “magic box” of snacks somehow never ran empty, and there was always an encouraging word, a check-in, or a quiet moment of interest in how our lives were going. He had a remarkable ability to make a group of awkward teenagers feel seen, safe, and valued, something I didn’t fully appreciate until much later.

Gary was a pillar in Alan's (and by extension, my own) life. He was there at jazz band concerts, ultimate frisbee games, school dances—sometimes as a ride, always as support. He was deeply engaged with the world and never shied away from thoughtful conversation, whether it was politics, religion, or whatever topic we happened to be wrestling with at the time. Those conversations mattered, and they helped shape how many of us learned to think, listen, and engage with others.

Gary wasn’t just a loving father to his children, he was a steady, generous presence for an entire community of kids who benefited enormously from his kindness. He will be deeply missed.

The family — with Syd, Alan, Sierra, Kathryn and Gary