I am saddened to learn that my former @SBTS professor, Dr. James Parker, passed away last night. Dr. Parker had an extraordinary academic pedigree. He studied at Baylor, Trinity, Princeton, Basel, and Johns Hopkins, and he delighted in pointing out that he could trace his academic lineage through generations of teachers all the way back to John Calvin. What made this even more endearing was how lightly he wore all of it. While many of his colleagues built substantial publishing careers, Dr. Parker often joked that one of his great contributions to scholarship was a 2001 Baptist Press article about Santa Claus. He could trace his academic lineage to Calvin, but he was far more likely to tell you a funny story than to remind you of his credentials. During my years as a student at Southern Seminary, Dr. Parker became a regular part of my life. I joined his shepherding group as an M.Div. student—admittedly, in part because I had heard he took his students to a very nice Brazilian steakhouse at the end of the semester. Later, during my doctoral studies, I worked in the School of Theology, and it was almost guaranteed that Dr. Parker would stop by for an hour or more to talk and tell stories. He seemed to know nearly every significant evangelical figure of the twentieth century, and his stories about them were endlessly entertaining. Dr. Parker also somehow convinced the dean to let professors eat in the seminary dining hall for half price, which meant that over my five years as an on-campus student, I shared literally hundreds of meals with him. He taught one of my doctoral colloquium, but some of the most important things I learned from him came outside the classroom. Dr. Parker taught me, among other things, not to take myself too seriously. For several years I lived at the Duck and Goose, a house long associated with men preparing for ministry at Southern. Dr. Parker told me that years earlier the men there had hosted professors for dinner, and he encouraged my roommates and me to revive the tradition—with the understanding, of course, that he would be the first professor invited. We gladly obliged and hosted him several times. I am grateful for the classes, the meals, the long conversations, the stories, and the friendship. Southern Seminary has lost one of its great characters, and I will miss him.