Each day at Bible College began with chapel, which was held in a large lecture room and consisted of prayer, a hymn, and a short devotional. The devotional was led by a student and students were assigned this function in alphabetical order. This being the case I was not scheduled to share a devotional until late in the academic year - I guess God had other plans.
A phone call, a conversation over coffee, a "chance" meeting at a conference or in Wal-Mart, following up on an impulse to contact someone; for every seemingly insignificant interaction or encounter we have in our lives that leads us to something significant, I wonder how many we miss?
On the first academic day in January 1967 the student who was scheduled to give the chapel devotion was sick. I don't even recall who the student was. I don't know if he had a bad cold, or chickenpox, or measles, the flu, or leprosy. I don't know if he was relieved he was sick so he wouldn't have to give the devotion; though I doubt it for one reason most of us were at the school was to preach - so who would want to pass up even 5 minutes before the student body and faculty?
That morning began like all other mornings for me, and as I sat in my dorm room preparing to head for breakfast and chapel there was a knock at the door. When I opened the door there stood two seniors, they were leaders in the dorm - they carried that "all-knowing" look about them, they'd been there and done that, and while people weren't wearing T-shirts in those days that proclaimed accomplishments, had T-shirts been available they would have been the first to receive them. I suppose their T-shirts would have carried the words, "We have been to the heights and depths of theology, and explored the hidden wisdom of preaching, and know the deep secrets of the faculty - follow us."
I'm not sure these guys ever smiled or laughed, but hey, they were kids too - which is to say in the season of life in which I write this most all of the students then were kids. They were doing the best they could with the models they had.
You know, or maybe you don't know, that every time I've taken myself seriously I've messed up. I don't know about you, but I know about me, at least a little about me. And when I take myself seriously I tend to not take God seriously and I tend to not take others seriously - this is by way of comparison with myself. For when I take myself seriously then I put myself at the center of the universe and that's never a good thing. I end up thinking less of God then and less of others - whether I intend to or not. Now I want to take what I do seriously because I want to be a good steward of life, a good friend, a good employer, a good pastor; whatever the relational case may be.
I think maybe Bible College and seminary students should have T-shirts that read; "Take God seriously and forget about yourself." What do you think?
One of these guys was tall and slender, the other of middle height and a bit portly. I'm not sure that prior to this particular morning I'd had a conversation with either of them.
"Brother Withers," one of them began, "Brother Clovisfundruckerstein (that's as good as any name when you can't remember the real name) is supposed to give the devotion today and he's sick, would you do it?"
"Sure," I replied.
Have you ever said "sure" when you didn't know what you were getting into? Come on now...have you? Do you have any examples you could contribute to an anthology titled, "When Saying 'Sure' Was Not the Smartest Thing to Do"? Or what about one titled, "When Saying 'Sure' Led To Surely Unintended Consequences"?
When the senior brothers left the room I sat at my desk and opened my Bible looking for Divine inspiration, for it wouldn't be long before chapel and I needed something to say, something that mattered. It was a Schofield Reference Bible that had been given to me, used - as in previously read, by pastor Donald Wilkes.
It was important to say something that mattered, that is different than taking yourself seriously, that is taking what you do seriously. The Apostle Peter says in his first letter (1Peter 4:11) that "Whoever speaks, is to do so as one who is speaking the utterance of God..." My old preaching professor at Gordon-Conwell (not the Bible College), Scott Gibson, says that "If there is a mist in the pulpit there is a fog in the pew." What he means is that if the preacher isn't sure about what he is saying that that uncertainty will be exponentially communicated to the congregation. I think that's true of leadership in general - what do you think?
I turned the pages of that old red Schofield Bible, with its well-worn binding and frayed edges, looking for a beam of light to shine from the heavens down on just the right passage. No beam of light. No voice from heaven. No goose bumps. Not even an image of a goose. Not a candle flicker of light. Not a twinge of excitement. What do do? Well I couldn't hide in the dorm. I could pray for an alien abduction - but that prayer probably wouldn't be answered.
My attention was drawn to John 13:34 - 35 in which Jesus says, "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." However, no beam of light, just a couple of verses spoken by Christ in the Upper Room shortly before His arrest, trial, and execution.
I took my seat in the lecture hall not knowing what I would do. The protocol was that after the hymn that the student giving the devotional stood at his chair and spoke from there, rather than walking up to the front. No one but the two senior brothers knew I was the substitute speaker.
The hymn was sung, it was time for me to stand and speak...and I froze.
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