Leaving Never-land
Recently, I was speaking to a member of our church and thanking him for
taking on the challenge of serving St. Andrews and Christ through his volunteer
work here. He was so sweet and thanked
me then asked, “Now who are you?” I
honestly dreaded telling him because I was afraid he would be embarrassed that
he didn’t know me, but that experience reminded me that many people here don’t
know me, or, if they know who I am, they don’t know much about me. So when Jeanette and Kay asked me to speak
this evening and said that they wanted
me to share some stories that would enable people to get to know me better, I
was delighted. It’s amazing that I would
be here talking to you because, growing up, I never thought of myself as
someone who people would care about knowing or who would be speaking to a group
of church women. But here I am! Something I never thought would happen is
happening. God has often surprised me
that way. So that’s what I want to talk
to you about tonight – the “I’ll nevers” in my life and the lessons that they
have taught me about myself, others, and God.
First, “I’ll never be a
teacher.” I grew up in Gaffney SC one of
five children. In those days, there were
no video games, computers, or round-the-clock television. My brothers, sisters, and I made up our own
games. One of them was school. Along with the neighborhood children, we took
turns being the teacher and students and though I no longer remember the rules,
we somehow managed to have a winner.
Although I played these games along with my siblings, I never thought
that I could be a teacher. Teachers,
both at church and in school, were the smartest people I knew. In my mind, I could never know enough to be a
teacher. When I went to Furman, I
deliberately didn’t pursue an education degree, because I still didn’t believe
that I could teach. After graduation,
Dee and I married, and he was called as the pastor of Carey Baptist Church in
Henderson, NC. One Saturday evening, a lovely
senior adult Bible study teacher asked me to teach her class the next
morning. She was sick and just couldn’t
be there. Not knowing how to say “no” at
the time, (I’ve since learned how to do that), I agreed and began work on the
lesson. I was terrified and didn’t know
how my lesson would turn out. Thanks to
a group of very kind ladies, my first teaching experience went well, and I
later agreed to teach our young couples Sunday School class. Years later, with many Bible study classes
under my belt, I found the courage to say “yes” to Greenville Technical College
and began teaching GED students. My
first class was a mixture of men and women, old and young. One of my students was a truck driver who
introduced himself to the class by saying that he had five children and two
ex-wives. He was a very smart man, but
just could not understand the reason he had to learn some of what I was
teaching. One day, in class, we had a
discussion about the Pythagorean Theorem.
“Mrs. Vaughan, why do we have to learn this ‘pagorum theorem’? I’m never
going to use it?” Well John, even if you
don’t use it, learning how to use it will help you learn to think. It will stretch your brain.” “I know, but that’s not enough of a
reason.” “Well, John, a lot of people do
use the Pythagorean Theorem in their work.”
“How?” “Builders, John, might
have to use it in construction.” “I’m never going to be a builder.” “Well, John, you have to learn it to pass the
test.” “Yeah, but it’s still stupid to
make me learn it.” “John, I’m going to
give you the final reason that you have to learn the Pythagorean Theorem. I call it the Mama reason.” “Okay, what’s that, Mrs. Vaughan?” “Because I said so!” John learned the Pythagorean Theorem and a
lot of other stuff; he earned his GED, finishing in the top five percent in the
state. When he brought his diploma and
award to show me, he told me that he not only wanted that top 5 percent for
himself, he wanted to do it for me. This
was humbling – I thanked God that day for sending Alice Newton to ask me to
teach her class. I learned from this “I
never” that, if we will let him, God can use each one of us(even me) to help
others and make a difference in this world.
Here’s a second never
that happened to me. “I’ll never date
that wild man!” The first time I saw Dee
was in the Furman University dining hall.
My roommate had a crush on Dee’s roommate, and she decided that I needed
to date Dee and that she would date his roommate. Well, Dee was wearing white, bell-bottomed
overalls that were out of date even then. He had a red beard, and curly blond
hair. He also had that strange “stand on
his tiptoes” walk. I took one look at
Dee and told my friend, “I’ll never date that wild man.” A few weeks later, Dee and I met for the
first time, again in the Furman dining hall, and I learned that he was smart,
and funny, and kind. He loved God and he
loved his family and pretty much came across as the perfect man. Eventually, his good sense prevailed and he
asked me out. Thirty-one and a half
years of marriage later, here we are. I
learned from this “I never” that first impressions aren’t always right, and
sometimes, God wraps a jewel in bellbottoms.
I guess Dee led me into my next “never.”
“I’ll never be a
pastor’s wife.” My pastor’s wife when I
was growing up was Beverly Morrow, wife of Bobby Morrow. In my mind, Mrs. Morrow was kind, and smart,
and she was very holy. She would laugh
really hard if she heard me say that, but I could never picture her losing her
temper, telling even a little white lie, or not giving the perfect answer to struggling
believers. I could never be that kind of
person. I grew up in Gaffney (enough
said), one of five children, and fighting was in my blood. My brothers, sisters, and I fought over the TV,
who was going to ride in the front seat, and who was going to get the last
piece of dessert. Even as a child, I
realized that I struggled with my temper and knew that God was so disappointed
with me. I could never marry a minister. What God has taught me over the years is that
he uses imperfect people to accomplish his perfect will. I do try to emulate Mrs. Morrow because I’ve
realized that what she did so well was love people – I can do that. I can’t achieve super holiness, I don’t
always know the answer to difficult questions, and I still sometimes struggle
with my temper. But I can love people,
and I try to do that as faithfully as I can.
As time went on, I
became the mother to three “preacher’s kids” which knocked down another one of
my “nevers.” “I’ll never be one of those
mothers who yell at her kids in public.”
We’ve all been in Wal Mart and heard a mother yelling at her kids to
shut up or come here. I bet we have all
shaken our heads and said, “I can’t believe that woman is so mean to her
children. I would never treat my child
that way. There should be a law!” I’m glad there’s not. When Josh was in middle school, I took him to
Old Navy to buy clothes. The operative
words here are “middle school.” He was
being particularly stubborn that day and uncooperative but he really needed
clothes and I was determined we were going to find him something. I had a stack of jeans, jogging pants, and
shirts piled high in my arms trying to find something that would please
him. He absolutely refused to try on
anything I found. There we stood in the
middle of the boy’s department of Old Navy, and I lost it. That huge stack of clothes went flying at
Josh – “fine, you put these clothes back on the racks. We are going home!” Just as the clothes went flying and the words
flew out of my mouth, one of our church members walked by. She taught me a big lesson that day. She just shook her head, laughed, and said,
“I have a middle school boy as well. Good
luck to you.” What I learned that day
was never to judge someone by their worst moment. Most of us are never as good or as bad as
others might think we are. We are
imperfect people just trying to navigate our way through this world as
faithfully as we can.
Let me share one more
“never” that life knocked down. This is
the most recent and the most personal. “I’ll
never go to church again.” No, those
words weren’t uttered by the ten-year-old me.
They were uttered by the fifty-year-old me. Friends at church had hurt me
desperately. My mind and heart couldn’t
wrap themselves around the pain, and I truly didn’t think I could ever walk
through the doors of a church again.
Then, the phone rang. A gentleman
named David was calling to ask my husband if he could help their church during
an interim. Dee agreed to talk to him,
and two weeks later I found myself walking through the doors of the Parisview
Baptist Church in Greenville. Inside
those doors, I found kindhearted people who took it as their mission to love
me, my husband, and our children and to remind us that God still had work for
us to do, people for us to serve, people for us to love, and people to love
us. The retired pastor emeritus of that
church told me one day that he knew how hurt Dee and I had been by all that
transpired. He then quoted the words
Joseph spoke to his brothers who had sold him into slavery. “You intended to harm me, but God intended it
for good.” He said to me, “We needed you
and God sent you to us. He has used you
to bless our church.” I experienced
healing that day. I was reminded of what
I should have known – that God always wants to bring good things into our
lives, He always has works of service for us to do if we will do them, and He
always loves us. Some months later, in
God’s time, our phone rang again. “Dee,
this is Al Walker. I am the chairman of
the search committee at St. Andrews Baptist Church and we were wondering if you
would be willing to have a conversation with us.” God brought us here to St. Andrews, he gave
us a place to serve Him, people with whom to serve him, people for us to love,
and people to love us. Dee and I thank
God every day for you and pray that he will allow us to bless you just a
fraction of how you have blessed us.
When God knocks down a never, a great blessing appears on the other
side. May that be true for you, as it
has been for me.