Over My Head

If you are like me, sometimes things are over my head I remember a colleague calling me about some theological question. I was clueless when he asked me what I thought. I sat for a moment trying to figure out the theological term. Not wanting him to think I was ignorant I asked, “What do you think about it?”

As he told his position on this theological query, I finally understood what theological principle and knew it by a simpler terminology. We conversed for several minutes, and he thanked me for my input. He never realized that he had bumfuzzled me.

I must confess. I have pulled this insane method on many occasions. Years ago before I became a minister, my home church was discussing Communion. I had no clue what Communion was, so I listened trying to decipher what the heck was Communion. My feeble mind thought about the Hippie movement and their communes. Then I thought that it must be something about the community.

Finally, there was talk about break and wine or for Baptist, grape juice. Then something was said about white tablecloths, the table in front of the pulpit, and deacons wearing suits. Walaa, the light bulb in my mind came on. They were talking about the Lord’s Supper. I often wondered why the table in front of the pulpit had engraved, “Do This In Remembrance of me.”

I have had the great honor and privilege of serving on committees and boards. Most of the time discussions were over my head. I lived by the Redneck rule: Be silent and listen and let people think you are stupid and speak to prove you are. The wise person remains silent.

People thought I was intelligent, but they just don’t know. I am smart enough to be quiet until the conversation turns to something I understand before I comment. I have been in conversations with University presidents, Alabama governors, members of congress, and many other venues.

People have told me that I am shallow. That is why I try to stay in shallow water. Last year Lisa and I went mullet fishing in the Lagoon in Gulf Shores, Alabama. The water is shallow and since Lisa cannot swim it made it challenging walking in the Lagoon and casting the net.

I held her hand and consoled her the entire time. We caught more sting rays than mullet, but we Had a great time and grilled some good mullet without getting in over our heads. That was until the second trip out. Lisa did not go. A second time I waded into the Lagoon and occasionally step in a hole submerging me. I went in over my head a couple of times but was able to stand up out of the water. I was glad Lisa was on dry land.

Rather than wading back to the cabin, I rode back in a boat. When we arrived back to the pier, I slid from the bow into the water. I was in way over my head. I can swim but having replaced both knees with titanium makes swimming difficult. As you can tell, I made it.

Like many reading this article, I have been over my head with debts, discussions, and decisions. Some of my decisions have put me in over my head and I needed to repent and change my life. By God’s grace I have survived being over my head.

As was Ezra in the Old Testament I had to realize that I am in over my head and seek God’s forgiveness and mercy.

 And said, O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God: for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is grown up unto the heavens. Ezra 9:6 KJV

I know that eventually I will be in over my head again. God knows I will too.

Dad's Last Supper

 This past Sunday, Resurrection Sunday, Union Springs Baptist Church observed the Lord's Supper during the Worship.  My mind goes back to that last supper when Jesus became a servant and washed the disciple's feet.  True to who He was He humbled himself to the lowest of servants.  It was a nasty job.

I'm reminded each time of being the one in my immediate family that had to empty the "slop jar" each morning.  Some people would call the "slop jar" a chamber pot.  Our slop jar was an empty gallon paint can.  We couldn't afford an inside toilet nor a store-bought chamber pot.  They did not have them in Jesus' day and the lowest of servants would empty the clay jars of human waste at the local dung gate or dump.  I emptied our tin gallon bucket in the edge of the woods.

The slop jar resided in my brothers and my bedroom.  Our sister had to do "Number Two" in it almost every night.  I believe did it because I had to empty it.  My brothers and I just went outside to pee and to the outhouse (toilet) when dad built one.

When Granny Hopper would stay with us, she always used the paint can slop jar.  There was no modesty curtain and our ten-by-ten bedroom with the army cot which was my bed and my brothers' double bed filled one end of the room.  A baby bed used for clean clothes that mama ironed was at the foot of my cot.  Each corner beside the door opening (no door) were wires nailed loaded with clothes and coats.

I was ashamed carrying the slop jar especially when we had company.  When there was company, I would place the tin bucket through my sister's bedroom window outside on the ground.  I would carry and empty it.  The edge of the yard was so beautiful green where I deposit my sister's number one and two. 

My sister was like one the Buc-ee gas station’s rest rooms sayings, “We are number one at number two.” 

Sunday marked the forty-first Easter since my dad died.  As were observed Communion, I thought back to the Last Supper I had with dad.  It was the Monday night after Easter, and we had convinced momma to take some time off.  She had cared two years for dad who had a brain tumor.  He was in his last hours.  Momma had babied daddy and his nursed could not believe how healthy he was.

Momma had fixed daddy a wonderful meal with his favorite potatoes, green field peas, pepper sauce, corn, tomatoes, cornbread, and sweet tea.  I wheeled dad to the supper table in his wheelchair.  He was very feeble and could not speak.  I prepared him a plate and began to feed him.  Every time I watch Driving Miss Daisy, I weep.  I think of feeding daddy what would be his last meal. 

I would take a fork and point it to his food.  If he wanted it, he would nod his head yes.  If he did not want it, he would nod no.  One time he nodded no to everything.  I finally bumped the sweet tea glass, and he smiled and nodded yes.  It is a precious moment in his and my being that I will forever cherish.

I feed him some cornbread, and he choked.  I thought he was going to die, and I was alone with him.  We had a great time not realizing it would be the last time we would communicate.  During the night he slipped into a coma.  Early Friday around four in the morning, daddy died.  I would spend our last moments holding his hand.  When he the nurse pronounced him dead, I shook his hand and said, "See you later pop."

Daddy had turned sixty on April 9, 1984.  Easter Sunday was April 22, 1984, and I fed dad his last meal on the 23rd which is today's date for this article.  He died on the 27th.  

Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hand, and that He was come from God, and went to God; He riseth from supper, and laid aside his garment; and took a towel, and girded himself.  After he pureth the water into a bason, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded.   John 13:3-5 KJV

"Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me." John 14:1 KJV  

"If You Can't Spell, How Do You Use A Dictionary?"

I want to squash a vicious rumor that has slowly circulating about me.  As with any rumor, it is hard to locate the source.  Rumors and gossip have a tendency to be bigger and better than reality.  Rumor has it that your Director of Missions is very intelligent or as some say, smart.  Well, It ain’t so.

Truth is you do not know what I do not know.  In the words of the great communicator and master of wit, Will Rogers, “It isn't what we don't know that gives us trouble, it's what we know that ain't so.”

My father-in-law once asked me why I was going to school, referring to seminary, for so long.  I responded by saying that when I was a young man, I thought I was pretty smart.  That was until I started classes at the University of Montevallo.  Once I started into the wonderful world of academia, I realized I did not know anything.  I told paw-in-law that the more I went to school the dumber I got.  Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Knowledge is knowing that we cannot know.”

I know that I cannot spell.  I rely heavily on the dictionary, the thesaurus, and the spell check.  That reminds me of my friend Lamar from the university who talked really slow, but could spell anything.  He asked me how I spelled correctly.  I said, “I use the dictionary.”  With all of his Chilton County wit he asked, I might add very slowly, “How do you use a dictionary if you don’t know how to spell the word?”  I called Lamar a “Smart Aleck!”  What’s funny is I had to use Roget’s Thesaurus to look up “aleck” while writing this article because spell check could not understand what I was trying to say.

The thing is I appear to be more intelligent than I am.  I enjoy being with intellectual thinkers, theologians, and people of wisdom.  I listen more than I speak and act as if I know what they are discussing.  If I listen long enough, a familiar topic will pop up and I will chime into the conversation.  I remember one time in church they were talking about Communion.  I sat among these church folks and I was clueless.  I had visions of something from a hippie commune or something.  I kept my mouth shut long enough to realize they were talking about the Lord’s Supper.

I like what Christian motivational speaker Zig Ziglar says, “It's not what you've got, it's what you use that makes a difference.”  He also says, “Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude.”  Confucius says, “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance.”

In Seminary, my friends would ask, “How in the world are you an English minor and cannot spell?”  I replied, “Very limited vocabulary.”  During lectures, I was continually asking my friends how to spell theological words and terms.  I remember the professor talking about “exegesis.”  I was clueless to what exegesis was and spelled it Xahjesus.  Hermeneutics was another one.  I spelled it hermahnudecks and was clueless to what it was.  Regardless of what Lamar says, I am glad I had a dictionary at home to look up these words.

I had a pastor friend call and ask me what I knew about “such and such ism” that was the new hot topic in scholarly thought.  Having no clue, I said, “I don’t know, what do you think?”  After a while, I figured out what he was referring and I told him my take on the subject.   Jewish scholar Mivchar Peninim says, “A wise man’s question is half the answer.”

It is always good to ask someone how to act and what to wear when attending special events.  Admitting that you do not know something is a very important step in the road to knowing something.  To know that you do not know is true knowledge.  Knowing when to say I don’t know is very librating.  I like Yogi Berra philosophy that says, “If you ask me anything I don’t know, I’m not going to answer.”

It reminds me of a statement from a sermon on Esther.  The preacher said, "It is important knowing what you do not know.  Esther was not afraid to ask for help when meeting the king." 

When the turn came for Esther (the girl Mordecai had adopted, the daughter of his uncle Abihail) to go to the king, she asked for nothing other than what Hegai, the king's eunuch who was in charge of the harem, suggested. And Esther won the favor of everyone who saw her (Esther 2:15 NIV).