You want me to preach?

In 1994, I left the newspaper business to pursue vocational ministry. That led me to join the staff of the South Carolina Baptist Convention. Within 18 months, I was director of marketing - one of the few department heads who was not an ordained Southern Baptist minister.

In those days, it was not unusual for South Carolina Baptist pastors or churches to contact the convention and request "pulpit supply" or "substitute preaching" for a given Sunday. The requests were then matched with the available staff for that particular Sunday.

One May Friday, I was minding my own business when I got the call. I was asked to go preach at a smaller membership, rural church. The pastor was retiring, and it was his last Sunday, and, well, he just didn't want to preach that last day. Go figure. I can't imagine how many others on the convention staff turned down that opportunity before it came to me, but it came to me more as an order than a request. I was at the bottom of the totem pole. Seriously. I once joked that it was me and the building custodian at the bottom of the totem pole but then learned the custodian was one of the more revered preachers in his neck of the woods.

Looking back, I still feel as if we were punishing that retiring pastor in some way.

I was not nervous about speaking. I already had lots of experience with public speaking, and I had taught adult Sunday School. I had just never preached before. Preaching and teaching are not the same things. So, I began preparing a sermon from - Numbers 4 and 8, which basically says you can retire, but can't stop serving. I don't know what that poor retiring pastor thought I was going to preach about, but I was going to remind him and everyone else that retirement from the ministry was impossible. Bless his heart. No congregation ever looked more forward to a covered-dish luncheon following church services.

The day didn't start well.

I got lost trying to find the church because remember, GPS in those days meant Rand McNally or Mapquest. With 10 minutes to spare, I burst into the back of the church building and was ushered to the pastor's office. He was already holding his King James Bible and ready, he said, to "wing it." I laughed and he did, too, nervously. I was sweating a river.

The organ started. He led me to a small door that opened to the platform. I clutched a paper towel, trying to absorb sweat - probably the first preacher in the history of that church to sweat before a sermon and not during it. He was just about to lead me into the sanctuary when he stopped, turned, and seriously asked, "Are you ordained?"

And I said, not trying to be funny, "Well, I've visited sick people in hospitals."

He said, "Good enough" and in we went. The sanctuary was full, but let's just say their facial expressions over a guest preacher from Columbia were not overly enthusiastic.

About halfway through that sermon, two things happened. The retiring preacher fell asleep. Numbers 4 and 8 will do that to you. You can't make this up. Also, a bird was flying around and I'm terrified of birds. I preached with one eye on a sleeping preacher and another eye on a bird flying around in that sanctuary. Later, the preacher and I laughed about the bird and he said, "The Lord has His eye on the sparrow." We didn't mention his nap.

I said, "If I'm in a room with the bird, the Lord and I will both be watching."

Since that Sunday - almost 25 years ago - I've been ordained to the ministry, but I keep the "Rev" in a holster. My family and friends say I preach all the time, but I've filled a pulpit probably an average of once or twice per year. I've even been invited back to a few places. On one return visit, I was introduced as having "waited out the restraining order" before being allowed to return. All that's for another book one day.

www.scottdvaughan.com