THE OTHER PULPIT

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Life Lesson—Limit Your Untouchable Heros

Whenever I hear the words "Good News" I think of God's Holy Word and my thoughts turn immediately to my father. He was my hero! The best preacher I've EVER heard. Considered by many of his contemporaries to be a "Preacher's Preacher". My mind races back to a cloudy and overcast Monday morning. I was playing "Church" in my bedroom upstairs on the second floor in the rear bedroom overlooking the back yard. My bedroom was located next to the bathroom down a long hallway which separated me from my momma's bedroom. We were poor, so toys were at a premium.

I adapted and improvised and had made a pulpit out of a steel milk crate. Yes I used a makeshift pulpit. I began to emulate my father as he preached. He had delivered an exceptionally furious sermon that had set the church on fire. I was both elated and extremely proud. I longed to tell him, but I could not. He was unavailable. So, in my subconscious mind, I internalized and mentally tape recorded from afar my hero, my father's sermon. As I mimicked his actions and mirrored his voice patterns, something came over me. Today, I recognize it was the Holy Ghost. I began to walk down the hall, made a right passed the steps and into my mother's bedroom. She was in bed, talking on the telephone. I drew on heavenly strength, narrowed my eyes, raired back and declared with power: "Momma! I'm going to preach!" It was stated with passion. I then left the room almost as immediately as I came, returned to my bedroom and became a child again. My mother, however, never forgot that day, and thought about it until the day she died.

THE OTHER PULPIT

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Life Lesson—Differences Dress You For Your Destiny

I wanted desperately to be like the other kids in our neighborhood. I had to wear a dress shirt, neckties, and dress pants to school everyday. I wore glasses, and I was fat. Making matters worst, I couldn't grow a bush (afro). So by those standards I was not cool. I was immediately identified, on the first day of school, as if I thought I was better than everybody else. Not true, but the bullying and harassment would continue because of the way people interpreted my style of dress. It's a shame that an eye for fashion is discouraged, and as my mother instilled the value of having a good appearance is so competitive, even in the church. I remember a Sunday morning worship service at a local church where I was serving as the minister of music. The pastor approached me and said, "What are you trying to do? Look better than the pastor?" I was amazed! What was I wearing, you ask? It was a two-piece separate, a red suit with red / gold suede shoes. Leadership Lesson—Scripture: "Man looks on the outside, but God looks at the heart." Jealousy is an untimely and unwelcomed hindrance to success and unity. The Bible states that "Jealousy is crueler than the grave."

At some point during my teen years, I was drafted to sing lead on a song entitled "Sign Me Up" by the J.C. White Singers. As I entered our warm-up rehearsal every Sunday night before singing for weekly radio broadcast, my mother announced that shocking piece of news. The closer my Sunday to sing came the more nervous I got. Finally, the day came I dreaded, and as I took the rostrum, along with my mother's choir, it seemed that the church was packed, even in the balconies. The music intro was being played and I was petrified. How did I handle that? Well ... I didn't move a muscle when it came time to sing. I didn't move the second time as the pianist and organist played the intro.

I was beginning to think I could get away with it a third time and not sing at all, when my mother angrily stepped forward and fanned me with her hand out of the chorus of singers. I was ordered to get to the microphone behind the pulpit. Laziness and apathy were not allowed on her watch. So I began to sing the lead. It was to me terrible, because I didn't have formal voice lessons as I had on the piano. It came out all nasally like those dwarfs who sing "Follow the yellow brick road" in the "Wizard of Oz."

This delighted the pastor's daughter who played the organ and directed the youth mass choir. They all began to laugh out loud as I struggled. When the song was over, I was so embarrassed, that I kept my head down in shame. I ran out and hid in the church bathroom. My mother was a great singer, all of my aunts and uncles could sing well. `Dear Lord,' I asked, `what happened to me?' After we would sing for the broadcast, the taped recordings of that service would be delivered to the radio station where it would be played all over the state. That radio broadcast would come on every Saturday at noon. The choir would sing their signature theme song. They sang their first selection. It went well.

Then came my song. I was nervous, excited and extremely insecure, and when I heard myself for the very first time, I hated it. It was so bad, I actually ran from the kitchen on the first floor of our home, all the way upstairs to the attic on the third floor to hide out. I refused to come down, and my mother continued to laugh at me, promising me, "You'll get better after awhile, son." Mom's telephone began to ring off the hook as church members and friends called to congratulate her. I was horrified, stunned, and wanted no more of singing of any kind. The next time I sang, I got the same results.

Only this time, the youth choir, directed by the pastor's daughter, began to laugh out loud as soon as they heard the intro music for my song. It was doubly humiliating and I begged my mother to find someone else to lead that song. She replied, "You're going to sing lead! So don't focus on negativity!"

She further advised singing tips: "Son, focus on a friendly face or look at one of the light fixtures that hang in the ceiling above." As much as I dreaded it, it became time to sing that song again.

An overwhelming dread came over me, and as I went to the bathroom to hide out again, something happened. It was there that I looked in the mirror, and asked God would He bless me to release blessings on His people. I washed my face and prayed each step leading to the pulpit. The organist and pianist played the intro to my song as usual. The youth choir began to laugh out loud as usual also.

Suddenly, I felt an unusual spirit of peace calming me down. I stepped up to the microphone and stood behind the pulpit, opened my mouth and began to sing. To my, and everyone else's sudden amazement, my voice became strong, heavy and powerful. People began to jump up, clap, praise, shout and hug each other. Life...