Getting Loose

Tossing It Out

Well, I have finally begun to accept the idea that no one is going to ask me to teach in seminary. 

So, I have thrown out notes that I took over 40 years ago on courses like "Church and World", "Theological Method", "Systematic Theology", "Hebrew I", "Greek I" etc.

It was fun sifting through some of the notes and comments of my own teachers had put on my papers, but I can recognize that I probably should have done this long ago. 

I had one binder that was probably 4 inches thick of notes and papers.  I've whittled it down to two inches.

Preaching at the Seminary

I think a secret, latent desire of some clergy is to be invited back to the seminary to deliver a sermon. Show the profs, the colleagues, and those know-it-all rookie seminarians how well we are doing, how much better we’ve gotten since the days of theology school.

That will probably never happen to me. I graduated from the seminary at SMU in Dallas. The people invited to do sermons there are accomplished authors or big name preachers.

But . . . I did get to preach to a seminary crowd—St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Seminary in Houston. I was invited by the Rector to address the assembled congregation for the Liturgy of the Hours Evening Prayer on a Sunday evening. I used as my text the first few verses of 1 John 1 and basically pointed out the enthusiasm that John had about his relationship with Jesus, and sort of wondered out loud where our passion, our enthusiasm might lie?

The theologues listened intently, much more so than the normal Sunday morning crowd who may often interpret my musings as something they have to put up with in order to get to the end of the worship hour. The seminarians wanted to see my manuscript. They noticed that I hardly looked at it. How had I arranged it? Look at the enlarged font I had used. Where did I come up with such a novel way of proclaiming the word? Did I know how closely that reading fit in with the gospel reading for that selected day, etc.

All in all it was a very heady occasion for me. I loved it. It fed my soul. It was neat preaching to such a younger, thirsty set of men (and Betsy!)

It Never Gets Easier

   I have to pick myself up by the psychological scruff of my neck to do three things. 

   One was back in seminary at SMU.  And that was going to Chapel.  Without fail, I had 20 other things I needed to do other than that.  But I was always glad I went.

   Hospital visits.  They always take a lot of time, and again there are so many irons I have in the fire, that I can always find a reason not to . . . but invariably I am the one who gets the blessing by doing the visiting.  That has happened so often that you'd think I'd learn by now.

   Number three--going to the gymn.  I hate it.  In fact for some reason I woke up at 5:15 this morning and went in order to get it over with.  I usually go late at night sometime after 8 p.m.  But last night I was thoroughly and completely in a state of frustration trying to hook up a new amplifier/tuner I had bought for our home theatre system.  It was enraging not having the logic go the way I thought it should.  At one point things began to work OK, and then like a dew in the morning, it disappeared.  I eventually got it fixed in a fashion by midnight, but I never, never thought it would EVER take THAT long.  All of this is a long-winded way of saying that I missed working out last night (I usually go 3 times a week) . . . but . . .  when I go, I always feel better afterwords.