I still remember preaching my first real sermon in front of real people.Preach the word. (2 Timothy 4:2)
It was in Osceola, TX, in 1975, the church met in a small, cubical church building. I remember it as being as high as it was wide or long. Old church pews made of slats, no sound system because the sound just kind of rolled around inside.
A fellow led singing that sounded like an opera singer. It was Church of Christ, non-instrumental, so there were no instruments with our singing, just a bunch of country people singing away in a small country church.
My friend, Gene, preached that morning, while I led singing. I preached that evening. We got paid $50 for the day, $25 each. As we were coming back home, I asked Gene what he was going to do with his money. $25 was quite a bit in 1975. He said, I am going to buy some food and shove it in my mouth. He was quite basic that way.
But I remember preparing as if it would be the sermon of the ages and delivering it with all the gusto I could pack into my young preacher’s life. I was 25 years old and in a seminary in Dallas, TX, that was attached to the Churches of Christ.
I was known for my singing and for the fact that I could get up and talk for a long time about nothing (an assignment once – to speak about something you knew nothing about until someone caught you in an error. I spoke for over ten minutes on automatic transmissions before I finally just quit.)
But I carefully chose one of my two suits (the brown plaid one) and shirt and tie, combed my hair and mustache and mounted the sacred desk to deliver unto the people the word of the Lord.
I was probably a pretentious guy who knew little or nothing of what he spoke. But I meant well
and I wanted to teach the word of God.
After almost forty years, I still do. I have grown tired of ministry, been whacked around enough in the name of God, but I still want to teach.
I teach on Sunday nights at Firm Foundation in Boonville. It is a casual affair, more of directed discussion, trying to make people think.
But every once in a while I think of the young man in the pulpit in Osceola, TX, pounding out the word.
He was an idiot. But he meant well. And I think he had a good heart, even if it did get broke
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