Last Sunday, the 5th, I had another of those humbling moments that seem to be a frequent occurrence in my life. It was my turn to give the communion devotional and I was ready. I had some deep, profoundly insightful thoughts with which I was going to astound the congregation. O.K., over stated, but I was comfortable with what I had prepared. Now first of all, understand that I realize that I am not the most eloquent public speaker. In fact, I’m down right uncomfortable speaking publicly in any situation outside my classroom. When I have to speak publicly, I know going into it, I will make a mistake, I just hope and pray it isn’t too obvious or at least not too embarrassing. Well, you know what happened. I stepped up on stage and I couldn’t make the microphone work. I’m 47 years old – almost anyway. A 2-year-old can turn on a microphone. I couldn’t though. Scott, the worship leader, finally stepped in, turned on the microphone, and saved me from further humiliation (or so I thought).
I proceeded to tell my story, such as it was. I suppose if I had been grading myself on it, I would have given myself a C+ or so. Not great, but O.K. considering it was me, talking, trying to sound smart, in front of a couple of hundred people. Everything was going fine, other than the obviously shaky voice because I knew I was going to mess up something before I left that stage. And of course, I did. I messed up, right at the very end too. I closed with the Lord’s Prayer. You know, Our Father, Who art in heaven, and so forth. I got to the last line – For Thine is the Kingdom, etc. Well sure, I know it perfectly now. In fact I’ve been reciting it since I was six years old. We used to recite it every morning in elementary school (before the Supreme Court said we couldn’t do that any more). But last Sunday morning? Nope, as if I never heard it before, ever, I could not say it. So what did I do? I thought out loud (never a smart thing for me to do), into the microphone, “Oh, help me out please!”
At that moment, I just wanted to climb into the microphone and disappear. Thanks to someone on the front row, I honestly don’t know who it was (but am very thankful for him), they spoke up loudly and finished for me,”For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever, Amen.”
I was able to overcome the embarrassment pretty easily, especially since the church was polite enough to not fall out of their chairs from laughing so hard. It was, after all, time for communion. I smiled, chuckled and thought to myself, quietly this time, “Oh well, I knew I would and I did.” When I returned to my seat, I began thinking that if this is really the best I can do, I probably shouldn’t lead the communion devotional any more. That’s a very sacred moment of worship and should only be handled by someone who can do it right, and I obviously cannot do it right.
Then after the bread and juice and prayer, Chuck began his sermon. I think I’ll not soon forget the message God and Chuck spoke to me in those few minutes. His sermon was on service. He began with a short segment about who should serve and that God calls the least and the lowest [my paraphrase]. What I got from what Chuck was saying was that I am an imperfect servant, that I do not have the skills, talents, intelligence or anything else to do God’s work, any work, perfectly. There are so many examples in the Bible of imperfect servants, the least and lowest. Consider Moses, David, Mary and Joseph, and a whole band of simple fishermen, shepherds, thieves and prostitutes. But look how God used them. God takes our imperfect efforts and He perfects the results.
When I got home after church that day I shared with my wife, Beth, my thoughts of not doing the communion devotion again. In her loving, gentle way, she set me straight (if Chuck hadn’t already). She said that there are probably a lot of other people who are just as afraid as I am of speaking in church, and just as inept [again my word, she was kinder than that] at it. She said that I was someone for them to relate to, someone with whom they could identify. As usual, she was right. (I hope she doesn’t read this.) I guess I was serving God’s plan as the perfect example to lead into Chuck’s lesson. I was the imperfect servant. So, Chuck, if you read this, glad I could help; and Lord, thank you for the opportunity to serve imperfectly for your perfect purpose.
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