It's happened to all of us. Those dreaded moments in time when you wish your life had a rewind button and you would instantaneously receive a free “re-do”. It may even be a situation in which you perseverate for many days, wondering if the recipient of your mistake remembers as vividly as you! Several years ago, Scott attended the funeral of one of his friend’s sister. As he approached the family, he worried about the exact words of comfort that he could share with his childhood friend. Being a close friend, it was important to him to provide those magic words of peace that would make the situation just a tad bit better. Inching closer, he quickly found himself face to face where the verbal transaction would begin……..And then it came……..the words of comfort……”Hey. How’s it going?” The end. That was it. That is all that came. “How’s it going?” Immediately mortified, Scott thought to himself, “Really??? Those were my comforting words? How insensitive! Of course he is not doing well! His sister passed away! Can I please initiate that rewind button and have a do-over?” Doing what we commonly do when we have questions in life, he turned to Sam Dean for words of wisdom. And of, course, Dad did not disappoint.
Growing up, I remember my parents always being there. As a 43 year old working mother of two, I now know what a commitment that was. Being a pastor was not a 40 hour a week job. It was a great deal more than 2-3 sermons a week. It involved middle of the night phone calls, long hospital visits, weekend weddings, out of town funerals, Sunday School parties, weekend retreats, long counseling sessions, and spur of the moment crisis management. When he got the call that someone needed him, there was no second thought. Out the door he would go. He left in the middle of the night, and he left in the middle of dinner. I even remember a few times where we cut our vacation short because someone needed him back in Clinton. Many of you reading this may remember a time that the “Baptist Rabbi” came to you in a time of need. We graciously shared our father with hundreds of families because we knew the power of his presence.
Amazingly, Chris and I never felt the stress of his ministry. He was always there for us. He made an effort to spend alone time with me. In elementary school, I remember him coming in from work and going to the driveway to shoot basketball with me (I also remember how frustrated he would get trying to teach me how to shoot a lay-up, but that is a story for another day). He made an effort to really listen to me. Growing up, he would always ask about my day, and you couldn’t get off the hook by saying, “It was good.” He would dig deeper. I’m sure I acted like these conversations drove me nuts, but in reality, I looked forward to them everyday. He made an effort to build a family who supported each other. I remember us traveling to all of Chris’s basketball games. A few times, we landed in some shady motels in which I’m sure he was glad to see us escape alive! Finally, he made an effort to support us in all our extra-curricular activities. He never missed one of my 11 piano recitals, although he would probably prefer I not mention that he was known to sneak in late to escape the key plucking of the beginners. I just remember Mom and Dad always being present.
As I grew older, the power of his presence was felt in both happy and tense times. When I received my first A on a college paper, Mom and Dad drove to Carson Newman to take me on a celebratory dinner. My first year of teaching, I was involved in a wreck on my way to school. Not long afterwards, Dad was at school checking on me. Early in my marriage, Scott traveled out of town for a week. After hearing a big bump in the night, Dad drove to Knoxville in the middle of the night to sleep on my couch. No questions asked. No humiliation. Only his presence. Fast forward a few years later... doctors discovered a tumor in my right ear that was going to require a fairly extensive surgery in a Nashville hospital. Within one hour of the doctor delivering this news, Mom and Dad were on my doorstep to offer their presence. This spring, Scott was diagnosed with a malignant tumor in his right eye. Immediately, we were in the presence of my Mom and Dad. In all of these situations, they didn’t have magic words to fix the situation. Honestly, I don’t really recall the exact words that they even said. I just remember how comforting it was to be in their presence. Scott and I have always found Mom and Dad’s presence to be comforting and supportive.
So what words of wisdom did the “Baptist Rabbi” bestow on Scott regarding words to say at a funeral? You probably know by now. Sometimes words just can’t make it better. Many times, our words can’t fix a situation, but our presence is what will have the lasting effect. Oftentimes, people won’t remember specific words spoken, but they will remember who took the time to come be with them. These words still speak to me today as we live in this world of social media. It is so easy to send quick words of comfort on Facebook or via text message. At least for me, I then fall into the trap that I have supported this person in some lasting way. Let Sam Dean’s words of wisdom live in our hearts knowing that there are times when there are no words of comfort, but God can use our presence to offer peace and support both in times of celebration and tribulation. There IS power in our presence.
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