UNTRAMPLED SALT

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF EARLY TEENS

"The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.”
Proverbs 9:10 (God's Word Translation)

My Father spent forty-seven years on active duty as a Methodist preacher. Therefore, I was a "preacher's kid.” I grew up with that said about me. Some people never cared to find out a single thing about me. They knew everything worth knowing with that label for me.

Later, I was told that a more correct nickname for folks like me was "theological offspring.” It just does not have quite the ring, does it?
A few minutes ago, I made up another one. I am going to call myself and others like me: "parsonage progeny.”

My Bible knowledge was less than weak in my youth and childhood. I could get out something like "Jesus wept" or "God is love.” Beyond the range of those, I was a lost cause.

Worse, I misunderstood Bible passages. I memorized the Twenty-third Psalm for my grandfather. I wear his name, George, as a part of mine. That Psalm opens with: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” That is a great opening line for anything Biblical. My problem was that I heard it like this: "The Lord is my shepherd and I do not want Him to be.”

"Whoa" for any preacher's kid who might think like that.

With that kind of poor Biblical background, can you imagine the terror in my heart when I was applying to attend Seminary and to serve as a local Pastor?

Right now, I need to offer a word of apology and sincere thanks to those congregations who received me as their Pastor when I did not know Jehoshaphat from Jerusalem.

Word of apology and sincere thanks!

I suffered from Biblical ignorance. I suffered from Biblical misunderstanding. I think the most frightening thing about me was that I would speak up in church if the Preacher asked what sounded like a question.

I have been told by certifiable sources that a good Preacher or Pastor does not ever tell a story that involves any of their family from the pulpit or the podium or the lectern.

Those same sources told me that you should avoid having those same family members raise their hand to answer a question that you might pose to your congregation. I tried to honor both those bits of wisdom.

Until that Sunday morning in East Cobb County, Georgia. The day was bright and crisp. The Sanctuary was filled. The music was strong. My text was the title to this story. In a moment of clarity or something else, I stopped my sermon and asked those folks, "Can anybody tell me what 'fear of the Lord' means?”

It turned out that many of my congregation were like me. They had also grown up with merely a modicum of Biblical knowledge. I did not panic at the silence or at the eyes cast away from me looking for an answer to my question. My anxiety did begin to rise when I noticed that the only hand raised in that Church House was the hand of my beloved son, John.

I was like an auctioneer who is not satisfied with the last bid and begins to yell: "Is there another.” Silence and un-raised hands were the responses of my people. You finally reach a point, don't you?

I looked up as if I was seeing John and his hand for the first time. I looked up as if I had expected him alone and no one else to offer an answer to my question. I said, "John, did you have an answer?”

"Yes, Dad,” he replied. "Did you ask: 'What does 'fear of the Lord' mean?”

"I did," were the words I chose in some fear and trembling.

"'Fear of the Lord' means totally awesome respect, "John said with authority.

The sermon was over. It was time for the closing hymn and the Benediction.