Sermons Remembered

I somehow left Bible College believing that my congregants would deeply admire my oratory skills, my passion, my intellect and Bible knowledge. I believed my sermons would always be life changing and impacting. They never told me in Bible College that I would preach some really bad sermons and they never told me that my parishioners would actually be brutally honest about just how bad they were at times.

I have never been one to always preach the church calendar or even necessarily to preach a sermon appropriate to a given holiday. However, my worst mistake missing a holiday was the Mother's Day sermon that was not about Mother's Day. I was working my way through a particular series and it just happened that the subject for that Day was Hell. Well, you can guess what I caught from the Moms of the church after that sermon.

Another time, I knew while I was preaching that it was just not working. I should have quit and sent everyone home, but instead foolishly pressed on. Dallise's brother and his family were visiting for the weekend, and I still vividly remember the lunch-time conversation at home afterward. Of course, Dallise, my lovely and wonderful wife and personal critic, was the first to comment about how bad the sermon had been. Then, my brother-in-law, Dallis, whom I love and respect, chimed in his views of just how bad it had been. In fact, before lunch was over, it was plain this must have been the worst sermon in all of history. To top it off, the next day, Ronnie, one of our Elders and a great personal friend, came by the church just to ask me what had gone so wrong the day before. Even his wife, Linda, always a supportive friend and encourager, got in on the act, agreeing they had never heard me preach such a bad sermon.

And then, there are good sermons gone bad. Steady Freddy will live in infamy at Liberty Church in Birmingham. When I look back over 33 years of preaching, it is the one sermon most remembered. I was preaching about the need to remain steadfast in our walk with The Lord. I wanted to emphasize the need to bounce back from adversities. I borrowed from Jeff and Pam's kids their inflatable Fred Flintstone punching bag. You know the toy, right? It is weighted in the bottom with sand. When you punch it, it falls over, but bounces right back up. Well, my intention was to punch Fred, whom I had nicknamed Steady Freddy for my sermon, explaining that when the storms of life knock us down, we have to bounce back like Steady Freddy. Well, I hit Freddy a little too hard. My punch drove him head first right under the kneeling bench at the altar, and there he stuck, not bouncing back at all. The crowd exploded in laughter, Dallise crying above the din, "I begged him not to do this. I begged him not to embarrass and humiliate the family!" As the noise began to settle, I thought I might still be able to salvage the message. I pulled Freddy from under the kneeling bench to set him upright and hit him again with a little less force. However, my previous blow had burst the sand compartment in the bottom and now Freddy would not even stand upright. I thought the sermon was lost and the message would never have its intended impact. Yet, I discover as we have occasionally heard from friends over the years, this was perhaps the most well remembered sermon I ever preached. My hope and prayer is that all who still mercilessly tease me are always bouncing back from life's adversities.

If any of you remember any other sermons I ever preached, I would love to hear about it. I guess I just want to know that my life has some meaning beyond Steady Freddy.

Monkeys, Crocodiles and Donkeys

Although there are many animals mentioned in the Bible, nobody ever told me just how involved they would be in ministry. In our Christian school, we once hosted trainers of chimpanzees. They were our guests and brought several chimps to interact with the students. Our family still has a photo with one of those primates. We have laughed often that we could not distinguish the chimp in the photo from our three boys.

We also had a member who worked for the guy who developed and manufactured Nautilus Weight Training equipment. The owner was rather eccentric who kept 12-ft crocodiles and rare poisonous snakes. We were invited to the facility to view these reptiles and were able to witness firsthand the feeding frenzy of crocodiles when live chickens were thrown into the pit. It was a major incredible experience.

On another occasion, our school hosted a Donkey Baseball fund raising event. The object of the game is the same as any baseball game, outscore the opposing team in the number of runs scored. Of course all the players are on donkey back running the bases and in the field on defense. It was quite an entertaining and frustrating experience. The donkeys, of course, were trained to be even more obstinate than normal, so they would run the wrong direction, stop and stand stubbornly, or just throw it's rider onto the ground.

However, I was least prepared for my own experience as a mule. Yes, you read that correctly, my own experience as a mule. My father-in-law, whom I served as Assistant Pastor, was an avid gardener. He was not content to cultivate an average plot of ground or grow average vegetables. Noooo, he was outstanding in his field. (Now that's funny if you know the joke.) He grew 100-lb watermelons and 20-lb cantaloupes. He was not satisfied with a small garden-size garden that could be managed with a tiller. He had a garden plot that required the services of a mule. Problem was, he did not have a mule to pull his bottom plow. He did have a plow, however, so he came up with the brilliant idea (and I use the term, brilliant, rather loosely), that he and I would take turns pulling the plow. Yes, you read that correctly also. He would take up the harness to the plow, I would take up the plow and he would pull the plow about 150 feet to the other end of the garden. We would then switch places and I would pull the plow back to the beginning point. I still vividly remember how conspicuos I felt to anyone driving by on the road in front of the church. I remember even then thinking that no one had ever told me this was what it meant to submit to spiritual leaders. I suppose I could have stood my ground and told my Father-In-Law I was not going to humiliate myself thus, but then he was also my Pastor and boss and I felt a certain duty to go along with his wishes. Besides, I was almost as proud of those watermelons as he was.

They just never told me in Bible College that I would ever perform the duties of a dumb animal. It does however, clarify I Corinthians 1:27, "...But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise..." I still wonder how God gets glory from that ministerial experience!

Bubbas, Bubbettes and Other Amazing and Wonderful People

They never told me just how many different kinds of people we would be privileged to meet in the ministry. Keep in mind I grew up in Georgia. When I mention Georgia, most people who have never been there think of Atlanta, a great southern metropolitan city. Most have not heard of Moultrie, a small farming town in the southwestern region of Georgia. I grew up on a 75-acre farm that was then, and still is, a half mile off the main dirt road. As you might imagine, we lived a pretty sheltered life. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights and Wednesday nights were church times and our family was always there. We never argued that fact; it was just accepted. Although we often heard about drugs and such in high school, I never witnessed much of anything firsthand. We worked hard some seasons of the year, but others were laid back and fun. I had a pretty good childhood and a pretty good life since then as well.

It was after I entered the ministry that I began to value the wide variety of church members with whom we have crossed paths. For example, on one of our church picnics at a state park, one of our members came dressed in a "toga-like-outfit-like-you-would-imagine-Jesus-would-wear-in-his-sojourn-on-earth" kind of outfit. With his full beard, he did look a lot like Jesus as he walked among the crowd in this public park "ministering" to church members and "heathen" alike. It was a little unnerving to me as Pastor. Then there was the young couple who showed up believing he was a modern day Elijah prophesying there would be no rain in the continental USA the month of June that year. Sadly for him, it rained on our little town June 1st. He was genuinely disappointed and confused. Believe it or not, we think he truly was convinced of his proclamation. He submitted himself to our counsel and remained in our church for some time to come. We think he even grew spiritually.

Oh, back to growing up in Georgia. I understand I'm as much a Bubba as the next good old southern boy, so trust me, I know a Bubba when I see one. Once an otherwise nameless Bubba was introduced one day when our church staff was having breakfast at Cracker Barrel. As I walked up to the table upon my arrival, Bruce greeted me, "BUBBA!". The waiter walking by stopped and said, "Yes, may I help you?" Surprised, we read his name stitched on the front of his shirt, "Bubba".

It has been my privilege through the years to discover there are a variety of Bubbas in our little world and most of them seem to find their way into whatever church I happen to be a part of. There are southern bubbas, redneck bubbas, western bubbas, northern bubbas and even those I classify as just plain ole bubba bubbas; and please, let's not forget those precious bubbettes. I'll not take the time just now to describe the differences in these classes of bubbas, but trust me they exist.

We know and value some of the most wonderful bubbas and bubbettes in the world; people we call friends; bubbas like Robert, Ronnie, George, Donnie, Charles, Jeff, Mike, Dallis; bubbettes like Mary, Karen, Becky, Linda, Sue, Lisa, Jackie. This is just the short list of a long list of names I could note here. Some of these names are real; some are made up, but if yours is here, you probably know who you are.

Well, you get the picture, I hope. The name Bubba and Bubbette has somehow become a term of endearment for some of the best people in the world whom I still call friends. So don't be surprised if I greet you as Bubba! or Bubbette! It just means I like you.

They never told me in Bible College about Bubbas and Bubbettes!