I was deeply saddened to hear any news at all after such a long time without word from Neil Irwin and Bunny Irwin. We had always loved and admired that couple—and this unexpected, tragic update struck us all with profound shock.

I first met Neil and Bunny about ten years ago when the pastor was assigned to serve at the First United Methodist Church in the rural town of Coxsackie, NY. On Sundays, one of the most visible couples in their thirties stood out: Neil, a remarkably large-bodied auto mechanic, always wore his blue work clothes, often with a collar—the edge of his white undershirt—hanging out at the back. He had bright, clear eyes and a constant smile, and treated everyone with kindness. One of his arms often held their youngest son, while the other helped with various tasks at the church.

Bunny, his wife, would bring their children to Sunday School, but she rarely attended the worship service inside. Instead, she sat on the steps outside—chatting with passersby, playing with her mischievous boys, lighting a cigarette—always waiting for the service to end with her hearty, audible laughter even during the solemn worship.

Neil, the eldest of twelve siblings, had quit school in fourth grade and become an auto mechanic early in life. He was a devoted husband, living each day simply and reliably for his three sons. Bunny contributed by babysitting, caring for the household, going fishing along the Hudson River on the weekends, and attending every festival, big or small, in their close-knit village.

One day, the pastor encouraged Neil to try attending the 6 a.m. morning prayer service—curiosity led him there. Sitting in the chilly, empty church with the pastor and me, praying, singing hymns, reading Scripture, then quietly meditating—this became a spiritual experience unlike anything he’d ever known. His days had been filled with repairing broken cars, lying under greasy vehicles, returning home to play with the kids and watch TV. But suddenly, he sensed another life waiting for him. Prayer began to bring tears—and an awareness that his life until now was sustained only by God’s grace. He yearned to respond to a stronger call from God.

Neil dug out his old suit—now snug—to wear on Sundays, paired with a broad, outdated tie, and began worshipping God more earnestly each week. At home, he turned every free moment into Bible reading and reflection. Bunny soon began attending worship more often. Both attended every leadership and spiritual training offered by the pastor. Their lives visibly changed, and a holy spark began to glow within them.

That spark was beautiful. On Thanksgiving, they hosted dinners for underprivileged and lonely neighbors. At Christmas, they led plays, choir programs, and early morning carols. In Sunday School, they taught God’s Word to children with zeal. They found joy in service and began to glorify the Lord publicly. And somewhere along the way, Bunny’s much-enjoyed cigarette habit simply vanished.

Eventually, they both felt called to lifelong dedication to God. The pastor sent Neil to a lay pastoral training school, preparing him for ministry. Neil worked as a mechanic by day, studied at night, passed the exam for college admission, and enrolled in community college, preparing for seminary. When he graduated with a “C” grade, Bunny wept tears of pride. To them, and to God, he was certainly no ordinary student—he was a faithful overcomer.

Neil went on to become a notable lay leader—Diaconal Minister—for the Methodist Church’s New York Annual Conference, overseeing ministries and interviewing new lay ministers.

He then answered God’s call to lead a small, pastor-less rural church. As a lay pastor he helped it flourish. Their devotion and faithfulness remained known as an associate pastor, through the conference, even after our move. Neil and Bunny became our pride, vibrant witnesses of God’s work.

Just a few days ago, we received troubling news: Neil is suffering from kidney failure, and Bunny has been diagnosed with breast cancer and is undergoing radiation and chemotherapy. My first reaction was, “How could this happen?” I almost questioned God—but then I found myself deeply grateful. They lived their once-in-a-lifetime days consumed by God’s fiery calling, and through their lives God was glorified. The Holy Spirit prepared them in health days to face future suffering. Though we can’t know how God will lead them forward, we trust He has already been glorified through them—and will continue to be so in the days ahead.

As Exodus 14:13 declares:
“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today.”

These were Moses’ words as he led our spiritual ancestors forward toward the Promised Land. I hold these words close now, kneeling in prayer for Neil and Bunny, trusting God’s deliverance amid their suffering.

(* Bunny passed away a few years later. Neil was eventually called to Heaven on June 9, 2026 after serving faithfully in the Lord’s ministry for over two decades, deeply loved by his congregation.)