In my youth, I suffered as most from an intense fear of speaking in front of a group of people. The worst week of the year was the second week of December when our Sunday school had a Christmas program on the second Sunday evening. The program consisted of each of the Sunday school children reciting a poem from memory in front of the 300 church members. I spent the week before the program in agonizing fear and trepidation.
In elementary school I had to orally present book reports in front of the class. Those experiences were also very traumatic for me.
These fears created in me a deep respect for my teachers and the ministers in church because they had overcome that fear which I believed they also had to battle. For them it was a battle they had won and I had yet to master. In my youth, I could not yet imagine being successful in that battle.
My Church in Clifton, NJ
One Sunday evening when I was in my early teens, I attended a church service with my parents and younger brother. We arrived at church and my father parked our car in the church parking lot that was located in the back of the church.
Just as we arrived, the minister who was to conduct the service was just exiting his car. He walked toward the church and on the way greeted four men who were standing at the end of the parking lot. They were about the same age as my father. The minister was about twenty feet ahead of me on his way to the entry of the rectory.
As I passed by the four men I overheard one of them say to the others, “Well, I guess we can sleep though this one.”
These words pierced me deeply. It hurt me because I had such great respect for this minister. He was able to do what I never dreamed I would ever be able to do; speak in front of a large group. These men seemed to only judge the quality of his delivery and its content, but disregarded his courageous efforts to overcome the fear of speaking to a crowd.
I entered the church as never before. My mind was set on a personal mission. I was going to get so much out of the service that it would make whatever sacrifice the minister made that evening to serve the congregation worthwhile .
I marched into church, passed the offering box and emptied my pocket with all the money I had. It was probably seventy five cents, fifty cents more than my usual offering. Then I made straight for my seat next to my cousin just behind the choir.
Seated, I bowed my head prayed like never before. I pleaded sincerely with God to help me extract from the service so much as to make the efforts of the minister worthwhile, even if no one else in the whole congregation got anything from the service.
The service soon commenced and the minister began the sermon. The more it progressed the more disappointed I became. The minister, an immigrant from Europe, had a mild accent, spoke in a monotone and used a rather limited vocabulary. On top of that his grammar left much to be desired. But what troubled me was that he never seemed to complete a thought. One by one he would raise a thoughtful statement and suddenly drop it and go on to another. I couldn’t get anything that I could reasonably say made sense of any of it.
Anger seethed in me. After all I did that I thought would ensure a positive outcome, offering all I had, praying sincerely, I now had to face failing the minister. Worse was the sense that I was seemingly justifying the attitude of those four men.
When the service was over, I was filled with deep disappointment, anger and betrayal. I immediately left the church. I ran to the parking lot and got into the back seat of our car.
When my brother and parents entered the car soon after I did. My mother knew something was wrong. I politely repelled her inquiry as to what was wrong. When we returned home, I went right to bed, skipping dinner with the family.
In bed I railed against God, rebuking Him for failing my humble, sincere and noble request. I was so sure that what I attempted to do was so right. Why did my God not respond? After some time of ranting silently in my prayer of frustration, I lay there in silence and calm, exhausted by the experience.
In the silence, I suddenly heard again the first of the many “thoughts” raised in the sermon but dropped by the minister. This time, however, the thought continued to evolve through to its completion. I lay there in awe as I processed the amazing result. As soon as I realized this explanation and a new understanding entered my soul, the next thought from the sermon came to mind.
Just as with the first, this next thought continued on to a revealing conclusion. The revelation of these developed thoughts from the sermon profoundly touched my soul. I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving, but did not yet realize what a turning point this would prove to be for me.
The next day, and for some days thereafter, as I walked to school another of the sermon’s thoughts arose in my mind. Just as they did that Sunday night in my bed, they continued through to a glorious conclusion.
It took some time for me to realize what I had learned by this experience and to fully appreciate the turning point that it was for me and my future life experiences.
Turning Point
As the years unfolded, I discovered the turning point that this experience was and the treasure it became for my life. These are some of the treasures that came out of this turning point:
• When I attended service from this point on, I was able to gain great value even when the quality of the delivery by a minister was not perfect. I learned that my work with God and His Spirit came not only during but after the sermon in the time I gave Him to guide and inspire my thoughts.
• When I attended college, there was no church of my denomination within reasonable distance for me to attend. Visiting the local churches in the small college town, though interesting, did not fulfill my spiritual hunger. Equipped with the knowledge and understanding afforded by this experience, I was able to gain spiritual sustenance from transcripts of divine services in our church that were sent to me. I would spend hours on Sunday mornings studying those transcripts, a fact that surprised even me. However, through the preparation provided from my turning point, I gained understanding, confidence and strength in my pursuit of spiritual maturity.
• Years later when I was a minister, I was able to use this experience relating it to a family who had trouble accepting a particular minister who served them in their congregation. It proved to provide them a different perspective that helped them maintain their spiritual compass. (After that evening, I realized that I had never forgiven those four men for their attitude. I understood that God had used their weakness to bless me with a life lesson that required their participation. I sat in my car that night and prayed, seeking their forgiveness as they were all deceased by that time)
• Some years later, the highest minister in our church was quoted as saying, “No divine service is a matter of course; each is extraordinary.” In light of my turning point experience I realized there are three parts to the sermon, God’s input as creator, the minister’s input as the conveyor, and my “input” as the listener. God’s part is always extraordinary and perfect. The minister’s not always extraordinary or perfect. But I have the opportunity to make mine extraordinary if I am willing to seek and give the Holy Spirit time to guide me and reveal even what wasn’t said in the sermon.
COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN EDWARD MUSTERER