David Bertch - Athena's Disguise

“I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched by him in all speech and knowledge.” (1 Corinthians 1 - 5

I sat down on the floor in front of our bookshelf, opened the lower cabinet on the left side, and found the large stack of papers, booklets, and binders I had received from David Bertch over more than two decades. There was everything from one-sheets on liberal education to pages copied from various articles and books by Josef Pieper, Abraham Kuyper, Peter Kreeft, Elton Trueblood, Francis Schaeffer, Dorothy Sayers—and the list could go on for pages. There are several binders of David’s own published works on topics such as being a Pauline tentmaker, the importance of the laity, understanding the triune God, and the steps to becoming an effective church leader. I’ve done my best to read and save everything he ever gave me.

Above me were countless books David and I read and discussed—works by Pascal, Descartes, Cicero, Homer, Horace, Arnauld, Nietzsche, Camus, Hemingway, Dante, Plato, Erasmus, and many more. All of them filled with notes, underlines, and symbols he taught me to use while reading. “Never read without a pen in your hand,” he would remind me.

On May 28, 2025, David passed from this side of eternity—but not before he spoke into the lives of countless individuals and influenced many for the sake of truth. He did this by taking an interest in his generation and the generations that followed. He was a student of the questions each generation was asking, and he was prepared to offer answers. He followed Francis Schaeffer’s teaching to “provide honest answers to honest questions.”

David, Don, Danae, Barbara

Week after week for years, we sat together at Dutch’s Hamburgers on University in Fort Worth, working through books and discussing the ideas they presented. Never once did he tell me what to do with what I read. Instead, he asked questions and got me thinking.

When we first met, I was curious and somewhat intrigued by the new formats showing up in Christendom. I thought some modern methods might help attract more people. He never called me out, but instead had me read Blue Like Jazz, Love Wins, Velvet Elvis, and The Shack. It didn’t take long before I recognized how damaging those books were and how dangerous the ideas within them were for the future of Christians. Then he gave me a foundation—introducing me to timeless ideas and ancient books that had stood the test of centuries.

We met because David and Barbara Bertch answered a call. My wife Danae and I were leading a Sunday class in 2006. We were in our thirties, guiding a group of thirty-, forty-, and fifty-somethings. Many were facing life experiences we hadn’t yet encountered—losing a parent, job loss, difficult teenagers, illness, addiction, and more. I placed an “ad,” for lack of a better word, in our church’s bulletin that read:

“Dear Old People, we lead a group of couples our age and older, and there are life experiences we simply haven’t lived yet. If you’re in your 60s or 70s, please join our class and share your wisdom with us.”

To my surprise, two couples showed up the next Sunday. One couple was David and Barbara.

I taught that Sunday, and afterward David approached me, offered kind words of encouragement, and asked if I liked to read. I said I did, though I hadn’t read much lately. He replied, “You make time for the things you believe to be important.” After a brief discussion, he invited me to read True Spirituality by Francis Schaeffer with him. “We can meet each week and discuss a couple of chapters—if you're interested.” I accepted. Then he added firmly, “If you’re not going to put in the work and read the book, I don’t want to waste time.” I committed. That was the beginning of our near-weekly lunches.

David took learning seriously. He saw it as the hard work of building a bedrock of knowledge to help navigate life: faith, family, friends, work, politics, and leisure. Reading gave us ideas; discernment helped us live rightly.

“You are wrong, my friend, if you think a man with a spark of decency in him ought to calculate life or death; the only thing he ought to consider, if he does anything, is whether he does right or wrong, whether it is what a good man does or a bad man.” —Socrates (Plato, Apology)

For David, there were two primary sources for revelation: the Book of God and the Book of Man. The Book of God—Scripture—is God’s revelation to us, showing His person, expectations, love, and gifts. It is our foundation (2 Timothy 3:16). The Book of Man is the aggregation of all written thought from Homer to Grisham. Since men are made by God, our thoughts on paper can reflect truth, beauty, and error. But discernment is required—and that discernment must begin with the Book of God. While many in Christendom cry “Sola Scriptura!” David affirmed Scripture above all, but he also insisted that intelligence and beauty can be found in the books and art of man.

Kermit Horn, Don Owens, David Bertch

David once wrote, “Christians did not invent a new education system. The ancient studies come down to us from the Greeks, Romans, and early Christians, through the 20th century when they began to be lost by many educators.” For him, the purpose of education was the discovery of truth. Theology was the queen of the disciplines, philosophy her handmaiden, alongside literature, history, medicine, and architecture. Foundational tools included grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. Biblical studies were the starting point. He lived and taught by this structure.

David introduced me to “the democracy of the dead”—the ancient writers whose ideas still shape the modern world. He showed me how the words of the past live on, and how many works still offer wisdom for living well today.

After a few years of reading together, he introduced me to what I now consider the greatest work in the Book of Man: Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy. He gave me his own copy. I took a long weekend alone by Lake Murray, Oklahoma, and read for hours. I was never the same.

“Avoid vice, Theodore, and cultivate virtues; lift up your mind to the right kind of hope and put forth humble prayers on high. A great necessity is laid upon you, if you will be honest with yourself—a great necessity to be good, since you live in the sight of a Judge who sees all things.” —Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy, 520 AD (Penguin Classics, p. 169)

David was a counselor. He offered advice when asked but mostly counseled through thoughtful questioning.

If not for David, I may have made the greatest mistake of my life. Though often in full-time ministry himself, he encouraged me to stay in business. “You are a boat rocker, Don. You can do much more for the faith in business than you ever could in professional ministry,” he told me. “Professional ministry will suck the life out of you.” For years I had felt like a second-class citizen in Christendom. He helped me see how vital the cultural mandate is—and the role I could play in it.

He did not suffer fools. Either you were studied and thoughtful, or he would not waste time on debate. He cared deeply about the direction of the church, but more importantly, the depth of people’s relationship with Christ. He confessed his own shortcomings and encouraged others to be honest about theirs. He was intentional in friendship, pursuing others instead of waiting to be pursued. He gave freely of his time. I’ve met other disciples of his in the strangest of places—people who, like me, had their lives changed by him.

He was a mentor, in the truest sense. He often referenced Mentor from The Odyssey—Athena in disguise, guiding Telemachus in his father’s absence. “Where is your courage, your power, your fighting heart—always so dependable in times of war and hardship?” (The Odyssey, Book 22). David believed a mentor should challenge your thoughts and your actions.

He looked the part too: tall, often in a tweed jacket with elbow patches, glasses perched on his nose, hair and beard a little disheveled, legs crossed tight, leaning back in thought. He was a picture of the dinner party professor.

He was also a woodworker, often showing up with a new scar. I think he nearly lost a thumb once.

He told me, “Don, if I have two students a semester who are truly committed and engaged—it’s a good semester.” I was fortunate to be one of those students, not in the university, but at Dutch’s. He introduced me to the great books and opened my world for nearly two decades.

He was a good friend—calling to check in when I traveled, keeping our lunches scheduled, following my progress in reading, work, and family. He wanted me to grow in virtue, in the fruits of the Spirit, and in my callings. He attended our May Club events, joined us on trips, and showed up for breakfasts and dinners. He remembered people and their stories and followed up with genuine interest. We read Cicero’s Treatise on Friendship together. I saw how he lived it out.

“In the face of a true friend, a man sees as it were a second self.” —Cicero, Treatise on Friendship, 50 BC

David introduced me to his friends—leaders, thinkers, and doers. Because of him, my circle expanded with people who sharpened my life. “If Christians cannot communicate as thinking beings, they are reduced to encountering one another only at the shallow level of gossip and small talk. Hence the peculiarly modern problem—the loneliness of the thinking Christian.” —Harry Blamires, The Christian Mind

Reading a book recommended by Kermit

He loved his family. He often spoke of Barbara and how she had made him a better man. He was proud of his children, frequently sharing stories of his daughters and Zuriel’s music, especially stories of his twin grandchildren.

Even as he aged, he didn’t slow down. He knew his time was short, and he didn’t want to waste it.

In late 2020, after months apart due to the pandemic, we had lunch in his backyard. I brought La Madeleine and stacks of books. He was struggling physically but said he had been listening to Alan Jackson’s “The Older I Get.” I played it on my phone. Tears streamed down his face.

“The older I get, the more I think, you only get a minute, better live while you’re in it, 'cause it's gone in a blink.” (Alan Jackson)

As I watched him, I felt it too—our time was running out.

What a gift to be included in the life of David Bertch. He gave us a great example of how to make disciples, how to work out our salvation, how to labor in old age, and how to learn, discern, and teach. How to be a Christian influencing culture.

My parents laid the foundations of faith and introduced me to Jesus. Steve French and Craig Hoffman guided me in my youth. Don Staton modeled committed mentorship. Al Boenker expanded my world through teaching and opportunity. David Bertch and Kermit Horn brought it all together through the great books and the big ideas behind them.

To give someone your time is one of the greatest gifts you can give. I am grateful for every moment David gave me, and I will do all I can to live the example he set.

“Nothing is more to be esteemed than aptness in discerning true from false. Other qualities of mind are of limited use, but precision of thought is essential to every aspect and walk of life... Capacity for discerning the truth is the most important measure of men’s minds.” —Antoine Arnauld, Port-Royal Logic (1662)

Our first meeting after the pandemic.