2 Corinthians
3:1-4
Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Or do we need, like some
people, letters of recommendation to you or from you? 2 You yourselves are our letter, written on our
hearts, known and read by everybody. 3 You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but
with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of
human hearts. 4 Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God.
My dear friend, Harriet, and I, working in
two different places, were each trying to get things organized.
Harriet had set aside the day to tackle the
job of cleaning up and cleaning out a small building that sat behind her
home. This wasn’t a storage building or
a workshop, as most of us think about a workshop. This small building was the place where her
now deceased husband would go to study the scriptures and write his
sermons. Doug was truly a masterful
preacher. A tall strikingly handsome
man, his voice had a unique melody that few could trace to his Canadian
roots. Week after week for thirty years,
he had filled the pulpit of the church I had come to serve. Doug was a great pastor to follow. He was my friend. He was my encourager. He was my helper every time I asked. When I didn’t ask for help, he never once
intruded. He, like our own Fred Miller,
could’ve written the book on how to support your successor.
Now Doug was gone and the time had come for
Harriet, his wife, to sort through the things in his backyard study. She looked at the rows of books shelved along
the walls. She thumbed through stacks of
notes on the desk, sermons in progress, ideas for future messages, verses and
quotations that struck a tone in Doug’s heart.
As Harriet took inventory of all that surrounded her and all that it
meant, she noticed a cardboard packing box pushed back under the desk. What could this be? What would she do with what she
discovered?
When Harriet opened that hidden away box, she
found it stuffed full of awards and recognitions, the kind of things you might
find displayed in an office or a living room.
She pulled them out, one by one, and read and remembered each one.
·
Here was a plaque given to Doug to thank him for serving as the
President of the South Carolina Baptist Convention in 1988-89.
·
Crammed in next to it was an award from Southwestern Baptist
Theological Seminary congratulating Doug on being chosen their Alumnus of the
Year.
·
The Medical University of South Carolina had given him a framed
certificate for serving on their Board of Visitors.
·
Baptist College at Charleston, as it was then known, offered him a gift
of gratitude for serving as a trustee, and as the chair of the trustees during
days of challenging change.
·
Anderson College, too, gave him a thank-you gift for serving as
trustee.
·
In the box were two honorary Doctor of Divinity degrees, one from
Charleston Southern University and the other from Furman University.
This box was stuffed with plaques and
certificates, engraved gifts and awards, the kind of recognition that marks a
great career and celebrates a life invested in the church and community. Then why, you might wonder, were all these
symbols of accomplishment packed into a box and pushed back under the desk in
Doug’s backyard sermon factory?
To answer that question, you need to remember
that Harriet was not the only one working to get things organized. A few miles away, I sat in my study at the
church, reading through a sweet and sacred stack of stories. A few weeks after Doug’s death, I had invited
people in the church and community to send me stories about Dr. Baker; their
fondest memories of his life and their personal testimonies of the scope and
depth of his ministry. I had the idea
that we would take a few excerpts from these written tributes and publish a
special edition of the church’s newsletter to share the stories. I frankly wasn’t prepared for the response I
received. Well over one hundred people
responded to my request, some writing a sentence or two and others writing
pages of heartfelt gratitude for Doug and his ministry. This overwhelming response promoted me from
the writer of a newsletter story to the editor of a book.
Picture this: a box full of the symbols of
success and accomplishment were hidden away in Doug’s backyard study while my
desk was covered with grateful memories from more than a hundred people. What does that say about my friend’s
life? And what does it teach us about
how to live?
Spend Your Life Writing Living Letters
In Paul’s second letter to the church at
Corinth, he told them and us the goal of his life. He didn’t want or need the praise or approval
of those in positions of influence or power.
He wasn’t seeking any kind of credential for his position in the church
or any evidence of the value of his ministry except for one; the difference he
was making in the lives of people. His
mission was to make a mark of truth and love and grace on the hearts of those
he served. And, in return, the changed
lives of the people Paul served made a mark upon his heart, giving him the
assurance that his life’s work mattered to God and to others.
The awards Paul cherished were lives changed
by his ministry. The people he touched
and changed in the name of Jesus were the living letters that gave joy and
meaning to his work.
Today, we have honored two of the wonderful
people with whom you and I have the joy of serving. We gave Fred and Sharon new titles
today. When I say that, I almost imagine
them kneeling before the Queen of England, being touched on the shoulders with
a sword, and being told to rise as Sir Fred and Lady Sharon.
But that’s not what we’ve done at all. What we’ve said, in this small way, is that
you have written the words of life and love upon our hearts. We, and many others in many other places, are
your living letters. And we hope that
knowing that will do for you what it did for Paul—give you the sense of
fulfillment and joy that comes from investing in the lives of people, in
knowing you have made a beautiful faithful enduring mark on each of us.
To be a minister, I’ve learned, is to have a
front row seat from which to witness the many scenes of the drama of life. I’ve held babies on their first day in this
world and held them up thank God for a new miracle. I’ve sat with children as they “talked to the
preacher” about giving their lives to Jesus.
I’ve shaken hands with hundreds of graduates to congratulate them on
their accomplishments and express the church’s blessing as they move forward
into adult life. I’ve stood with couples
as they pledged their love to one another for a lifetime. I’ve sat with families in principal’s
offices, courtrooms, and hospitals in moments of crisis. And, more times than I can count, I’ve stood
by the bed of a saint as they finished their earthly race and have gone
home.
As I’ve witnessed the final hours of life,
I’ve seen what truly matters to those who know they will soon go home.
·
I’ve never heard someone ask to see their college transcript or their
university diploma.
·
No one has cried out to hold a trophy one more time.
·
Not a person has spent life’s final hours admiring an investment
portfolio.
·
I can’t remember anyone asking to be rolled to the window so they can
look out and see their favorite car with the boat on a trailer behind it.
·
Never has a dying person asked me to comfort them by reading their
resume.
What do they want? What do they need? What do they now see so clearly as the
crowning achievement, the enduring impact of their lives?
Surround me, they say, with the people I have
loved; the people who have loved me.
As my mentor Doug and the Apostle Paul and
Fred and Sharon can teach us today,
The words of praise that truly endure and
inspire are engraved upon human hearts.
May we learn that lesson and live it. May we spend our lives writing living
letters.
