Walking in two worlds: family, tribal community, church mourn Michael Gavin

Clothing ranged from regalia to matching jackets with skulls on them to Sunday-best formal wear, but all were quiet as CTUIR faith leader Armand Minthorn spoke.

Minthorn was joined at the center of the room by a row of men, and after Minthorn finished speaking, they raised their voice in song, the traditional songs of the Umatilla, Cayuse and Walla Walla tribes.

Michael was “a proud Cayuse man” in the words of his family, a crucial part of his identity that also shared space with his life in the church, and the pastor who would rise to speak at the Longhouse next.

The 27-time prodigal son

Pastor Tim Van Cleave’s voice wavered and broke as he welcomed his congregation to the Aug. 11 service at Bethel Church, Michael’s face projected on the screens behind him.

Bethel is housed in a solitary building on Pendleton’s airport property and affiliated with the Assemblies of God, a Pentecostal Christian denomination. It was the first Sunday service Bethel held since its youth pastor died from COVID-19, and Van Cleave was searching for words of solace for his tight-knit congregation.

“We don’t understand why everything happens the way it does,” he told his congregants. “I’m still in shock myself. I still feel like I’m just in a dream waiting to wake up.

Van Cleave recalled one of Michael’s sermons, about being a prodigal son 27 times over. The Prodigal Son of the Bible is a story about a son who squanders his father’s inheritance, only to be welcomed back with open arms when he returns home in destitution, a parable about the resilience of God’s love. Michael told Bethel congregants that he had been the prodigal son 27 times in his life, falling away from his faith before reconnecting with it. But as he stood before them that day, Michael vowed he wouldn’t walk away from his faith again.

Van Cleave met Michael through his son 13 years ago, and despite being in his “partying” days, he still would regularly talk with the pastor about God.

“He could talk it, but he wasn’t walking it at that moment,” Van Cleave said.

Over time, Michael became more serious about committing himself to his faith, making the shift permanently about three years ago. Michael became a youth pastor for Bethel, using his natural ability to connect with youths who otherwise had no connection to church.

But Michael also harbored larger ambitions. He talked with Van Cleave about traveling to Los Angeles regularly to evangelize, maybe take a trip to Israel. When he wanted a van for the youth program, he prepared to sell his truck to pay for it, only for another church in Newport to step and send Bethel one of its unused vans.

Before his death, Michael made it known that he wanted to pastor full time. Van Cleave had his misgivings about how it would fit into the church budget. Although Van Cleave worked full time for the church, his salary fluctuated depending on Bethel’s finances. He occasionally took extra work, such as driving a school bus or selling cemetery headstones to make ends meet, and he didn’t know how Bethel would cover the cost of employing Michael.

Michael’s prayers were seemingly answered when a donor stepped forward to sponsor Michael’s position with the church. Van Cleave wanted to work out the details before telling Michael, but by then, he was already in the hospital. Van Cleave was working a job delivering potable water to wildfire sites when he learned of Michael’s death, having never told him about the job development.

To Van Cleave, Michael’s achievements with the church weren’t just a product of his determination, but a testament to his spiritual conviction and his relationship with Jesus. Van Cleave found joy in Michael’s spiritual transformation.

“It was amazing to watch,” he said.

Walking in both worlds

At the Longhouse, Michael’s brothers painted him as both a jester and a provider.

Derek told the assembly when he saw Michael laying in the casket at an earlier viewing, he still had “that same stupid smile” on his face, a smile that came from a well-cracked joke or one of the many pranks he played on Shawna, video evidence of which would quickly make its way to the siblings.

Derek declined to be interviewed, but he did provide a statement about the other side of Michael. The Michael who taught Lee how to hunt and fish, a source of guidance and protection, from childhood to adulthood.

“He was always my rock and protected me from the nightly nightmares I had when we were kids,” he said. “I’d sleep in his room and they never came to me in there.”

Lee said the snow at their childhood home in northern Idaho often forced them inside, giving them no choice but to learn how to make each other laugh. But Michael also was forced to mature early when their father, Greg, became paralyzed. Jill-Marie, Michael’s younger sister, said he had his first job at 14 and moved out to live independently by 17, eventually moving to Canada with his family’s support to attend Pacific Life Bible College.

The other constant in Michael’s life was his Christian faith. Whether he was running in a street gang in Portland or making a permanent move to Pendleton, Michael was attracted to Christianity at an early age and remained steadfast. Jill-Marie and the rest of siblings respected his commitment, even if they didn’t always share his beliefs. A product of a Native mother and white father, Jill-Marie said much of her mother’s family tended to follow Washat, the traditional religion of the Umatilla, Walla Walla and Cayuse people, rather than Christianity, a system of faith that has had a fraught history with the indigenous peoples of America. But Michael didn’t see it as a binary.

“It’s kind of a funny thing in Native circles to say that, ‘Oh, he walked in both worlds,’” Jill-Marie said. “We say it jokingly, but Michael really did.”

Jill-Marie said Michael was proud to be Cayuse, the walls of his room adorned with the CTUIR flag and pictures of tribal elders. He worked several jobs in tribal government over the years and when he hunted, it was often to provide subsistence to his family and community.

In addition to his duties at Bethel, Michael had begun assisting with services at the Mission Assembly of God, motivated to share his love of God with the people of the reservation.

At sunrise on Aug. 12, Michael was buried at Homly, a small cemetery nestled against the Umatilla River east of Mission. The family felt Michael’s love of the outdoors made the spot thematically appropriate. They all may not have shared his faith, but they drew comfort that Michael knew where he was going.

At the Longhouse ceremony, the audience spontaneously rose as Greg Gavin drew out a guitar to play a couple of songs in tribute to his son. Once he finished, his family quickly surrounded him in an embrace, taking a moment to hold each other a little longer.