Years ago, when my boss told me we were going to meet former President Jimmy Carter at his place of worship, Maranatha Baptist Church, I was a little surprised. When she told me why, I was shocked. “Because that’s where he teaches Sunday school every Sunday,” she said.

“How could a former president of the United States, a former governor of the state of Georgia, a former Georgia state senator, a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and a student of nuclear physics teach Sunday school?” I thought to myself. “This must be a gimmick or some kind of P.R. ploy.”

On that Sunday at Maranatha, the church was packed, not for the regular church service mind you, but to attend the Sunday school that led up to it. Everyone was there to see one man — Jimmy Carter. Those who followed Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and Judaism were all there seated together with Christians. And I am certain there were other faiths and plenty of non-believers in that packed sanctuary, too. Everyone was there for the former president. I have never seen anything like it. Here was the 39th president of the United States leading us through a Sunday morning discussion about God, Jesus and the Bible. Later, he and Mrs. Carter would offer to take a photo with each person.

All of my subsequent visits to Maranatha to see and hear Jimmy and Rosalynn, along with my work with them through Habitat for Humanity, were wonderful and unique. They were quite a team and nobody, no one, could say the name “Jimmy” like Rosalynn Carter.

But there was one incident that stands out for me because it defined and cemented my view of President Carter.

We were in eastern Kentucky carrying out one of the former president’s yearly work projects. As the project was getting underway, staff, volunteers and supporters gathered with the Carters in an auditorium for a special program. Part of the program called for singing Kentucky’s official state song, “My Old Kentucky Home,” by Stephen Collins Foster.

Written in 1853 and originally titled “Poor Uncle Tom, Good Night!,” the song was written with what many consider, then and now, to be racist lyrics, indicative of the times leading up to the Civil War. But some saw the words as a rebuke to slavery.

I wasn’t fully aware of the song’s lyrics at the time, but I was amazed at how voices filled the auditorium that evening. People sang it with full-throated passion. So, when it was time to sing the controversial lyrics, no one seemed to notice and no one seemed to care. They just sang.

But there was one man who did notice and who did care.

After the program, as I followed others going to greet Carter, I saw him moving toward me and a colleague who was also of African descent. Surprisingly, Carter grabbed my hand as if there was something urgent and pressing on his mind he had to say.

“I want to apologize for you having to sing that song with those lyrics. I’m sorry you had to do that,” Carter said. “I am sorry you had to experience that.”

And that is all I can remember that he said that evening. It was enough.

This week, as the nation and the world bid farewell to Jimmy Carter, I think about that evening, about him, all the things he said, and all the things he did. Building a house, teaching Sunday school in a small town, holding the highest office in the land, even apologizing for words to a song written decades before he was born.

Kim Fuller, “Uncle Jimmy’s” niece, recently referenced this quote from Carter that has been on my mind since I read it:

“I have one life and one chance to make it count for something. I’m free to choose that something. … My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I can, whenever I can, for as long as I can.”

What an amazing man!

Goodbye, Jimmy Carter.

Floyd Nelson is a consultant, adviser and teacher who lives in southern Maryland. At Habitat for Humanity International, he served as associate director of international programs and associate director of external affairs.