The Unexpected Sermon

I spent most of my Saturday preparing for Sunday morning and reflecting over the sweet truth God had shown me in His word while I was in Virginia this past week. I had formed the sermon into a three-point picture that I aimed to paint vividly in the mind of the Pine Cliff Baptist Church congregation. I set my alarm for 6:30… it was loud. I stumbled out of bed, turned the coffee pot on and had a glass of orange juice. I spent some time praying and asking God to do big things, things that I know I couldn’t do on my own. I asked Him to shine bright and to pour out His spirit and His goodness. Then, I suited up… literally put a suit on and for those of you who know me know that I would rather not. I am going to try to make a long story short so I am skipping some minor details like drinking coffee, brushing my teeth, not being able to find my black belt, and the drive into south Camilla…lol. I am at the church now and it’s traditional. It reminds me of some of the churches I spent time in when I was younger. There are no cathedral ceilings, no big chandeliers, no nice piano and definitely no “contemporary music, which I loved. I stood on the front row and sang along with the other parishioners who seemed to be mostly older men and women who loved to farm, or owned farms, or knew someone who owned a farm. Since my grandfather was pretty much the sickest piano player and hymn lover I didn’t have to crack the hymnal open to follow the song. I stood some, sat some and prayed a little. There was a young kid probably around the age of eight who prayed over the offering and for some reason prayed for the food that “goes through us”… it was genuine, but funny. It was about this time when there was a short silence and then all attention shifted to one young man who walked slowly to the stage. He was sixteen or so with a shaved head and the left side of his body didn’t seem to want to work with the right side. He carried his cane in one hand and a poem in the other. He took his place behind the podium and leaned forward with a sort of crippled strength. He slurred his words as he spoke of resurrection Sunday and the perfect gift of salvation that Jesus delivered to us on the cross. He smiled a half smile, which was to him the equivalent of a full one and more than I sometimes muster and both sides of my face work. He talked for a few more minutes and everyone was captured in the truth and sincerity of his delivery. He limped off the platform and at that moment I realized that I had witnessed what the cross was all about. It is about making the crippled victorious, the broken whole and the lost found. I marveled… then, he was finished and attention shifted once more. All eyes were on me to preach the morning message and I had just witnessed the sermon of my life.