A TRIBUTE TO DR. DALLAS BURDETTE — A LIFE GIVEN TO TRUTH
Some people inherit certainty early—and never question it again. Others inherit boundaries, fences carefully built by tradition, and spend a lifetime learning where they came from, why they exist, and whether they deserve to remain.
Dr. Dallas Burdette of Montgomery, Alabama grew up in a very sectarian wing of the Churches of Christ, where conclusions often arrived before questions had time to breathe. Yet instead of shrinking within those walls, something remarkable happened: his hunger to learn only intensified.
He is ninety-one years old now—and still studies the Bible for hours every day. Not out of habit. Not out of nostalgia. But out of reverence. Few men I have ever known have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of truth with such steadiness, such patience, such humility. He has never mistaken age for arrival. He remains a student—alert, curious, and willing to be corrected by the text itself (Psalm 119:18).
My father taught me to love the Bible. He taught me how to study it—how to handle it carefully, how to respect its words. Dallas taught me something just as important: how to keep studying. How to widen the conversation. How to read beyond familiar voices. How to let good books challenge inherited assumptions instead of merely reinforcing them. He showed me that truth is not fragile, and that faith does not need protection from honest inquiry (Proverbs 18:15).
His own life bears quiet testimony. He did not graduate from high school, but earned his GED later. And now he holds an accredited doctorate. Not as a credential to brandish, but as evidence of perseverance—a mind unwilling to surrender to limitation, circumstance, or expectation. In my view, he is a scholar in the deepest sense: disciplined, reflective, and reverent before Scripture.
I do not recommend his views on eschatology—and that statement itself would not trouble him in the least. He understands that disagreement is not betrayal, and that unity does not require uniformity. He embodies the rare grace of holding convictions without clutching them so tightly that love is squeezed out (Romans 14:5–6).
Dallas is a prince of a fellow. Gentle without being weak. Serious without being severe. Deeply committed to Scripture, yet gracious toward people still finding their way. His reflections are worth reading—not because he claims final answers, but because they emerge from a lifetime spent listening carefully to the Word and resisting the temptation to rush it toward conclusions.
In a world addicted to speed, noise, and certainty, his life reminds us that truth often comes slowly—and only to those willing to stay with the text long enough for it to examine them (Hebrews 4:12). He stands as living proof that it is never too late to learn, never too late to grow, and never too late to sit quietly with an open Bible and an open heart.
I am grateful for him. For his example. For his patience. For the way he taught me—without fanfare, without force—what it looks like to pursue truth for a lifetime, and to do so in the presence of Christ.
Outside of immediate family, I’ve never known a better man. And never had a better friend. I love you, Dallas. The world is a better place because you’ve lived in it.
BDD
