Life
is a lot more fun after you realize you are not indispensable. There is always
someone who can do your job as well or better than you can.
I learned that early on as a pastor.
Between Union Springs and Eufaula there is a small community named Midway,
Alabama. With our small son Matt still in diapers my wife and I made an
emotional departure before moving to Pensacola, Florida. In our final worship
service we sang “God be with you till we meet again” and the tears flowed. I
figured the little church could not possibly survive without my brilliant
leadership. To my amazement the church did quite well without me. Amazingly,
every church I served has managed to survive without my profound wisdom.
God has many ways to deflate a
puffed up ego. Once I journeyed to Fairfax, Virginia, to preach a revival in a
church there. My hosts urged me to bring along my wife, Dean. She would enjoy
seeing the sights around the nation’s capital. After preaching one sermon, I
collapsed early the next morning and was rushed to the hospital in an
ambulance. Instead of pontificating from the pulpit, I spent the next week
recovering from a bleeding ulcer.
Dean stepped up to the plate and
preached in the remaining four worship services. She did such a good job that
the pastor said, “You really did our church a favor by getting sick; the people
have loved Dean’s messages.”
That was not the last time Dean has
filled in for me. One year I was scheduled to preach at a conference retreat.
At the time we were struggling with very difficult problems involving our four sons.
As the zero hour approached we agreed that I needed to be at home with the
boys. Dean drove alone to the retreat center, on a dark and stormy night, and
gave a powerful testimony. Once again our friends shared their joy that I had
been detained so that Dean could take my place.
Once in my lifetime the bishop moved
me from one church to another against my better judgment. Having vowed to “go
where I was sent,” I had no choice in the matter. I thought the pastor who took
my place would not do well. I was wrong; he did an excellent job. Once again I
had to admit the church prospered without my brilliant leadership. By the grace
of God I learned to “get over” my estimate of my own importance.
One January I was scheduled to speak
at the annual conference Men’s Retreat (they actually call it “Advance” instead
of retreat). I was excited about the theme, “Fathers and Sons,” since my son
Tim and his son Joseph usually attend this retreat with me. Actually Tim and I
were scheduled to share the platform. Our plan was that Tim would offer a brief
testimony and I would bring the sermon.
When it developed that I was too
sick with the flu to go anywhere, I asked Tim if he could take on the
assignment by himself. There was a long pause. Then Tim said, “I will talk to
the Lord about it and let you know.” A few hours later Tim called back. “Dad,”
he said, “I believe the Lord has given me a message for the men, and I am
willing to offer it.” My heart leaped with joy.
At the retreat Tim told the men, “I
am not a preacher; I am a forester. I had been planning to share a brief ‘sermonette,’
then let Dad deliver the power punch. When Dad told me he could not go, I
realized I had to find some meat and potatoes for my little talk. With the
Lord’s help, I have put together a message that I hope God will use to bless us
all.” He proceeded to deliver a message that was more powerful than anything I
might have offered. The report of my friends confirmed this and my heart was
melted by their response.
Like Jeremiah, Tim is a weeping
preacher, though not a prophet. He cannot share five minutes without reaching
for his handkerchief. By that time the people in the audience are reaching for
a Kleenex of their own. Tim’s emotional response to the work of God in his
heart is usually quite contagious.
When someone takes your place, you
can react with resentment, anger, grief, or joy. I am convinced the only wise
response is joy, even when that does not come easy. As I look back over my
life, I remember that my reaction to being replaced was not always a joyful
one. More than once I was resentful and angry toward others, and disappointed
in my inability to be Superman on every occasion.
That I now regret. I finally realized
that I need to celebrate my opportunity to be anywhere, anytime, no matter the
brevity or length of my time there. Such an attitude opens the heart to joy.
While no one is indispensable we can nevertheless enjoy our work while we have
it, and learn to rejoice when someone else takes our place.
Choosing joy is a good idea because no
one can rob you of it and it tastes much better than anger, grief or
resentment. Our reactions can leave a bitter taste in our mouths. But by
managing our attitudes, we can choose whether that taste is bitter or sweet. + +
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