You are, “Who?

     While going through some older files on another computer I stumbled across some things that I wrote years ago. I am always amazed that as I read them I cannot remember writing them. But write them I did. This one struck a cord I think worth sharing. I wrote it in 2009, obviously for a contest. Three years have past and the world’s situation has continued to get worse. But the call for renewed trust in our Nation and our foundational belief system is as needed as ever.

            This, like most of what I write, came from an actual event.  Although written with a fictional twist, it came from a true story shared one morning at the church I attended for twenty-five years.

    

     The reflection in the mirror was of a sixty-five year old man who had faithfully served God for many years, but these were new and troubling times. No longer would a sentimental syrupy-sweet sermon be sufficient. This was the year 2009 and splashed across the front page of newspapers from corner to corner of the country were stories of economic fallout threatening people already struggling with fears, pain, loss of their homes, their jobs and even the most unspeakable, the loss of their own lives and often times taking those of their household with them.
     While questioning if the sermon he had prepared would be a lifeline this morning or end up a frivolously woven thread in someone’s otherwise desperate situation, the words of his most revered Professor at seminary popped into his mind. Its arrival was timely. His advice to his young budding seminary students had been this, “Preach to the youngest parishioner.” Certainly this was good advice, seeing that Jesus himself had made note of the Kingdom of God being likened unto a child.  If a child could understand and be encouraged by his text this morning, then perhaps the whole of the wavering congregation he had been called to oversee as the interim pastor until a more permanent pastor could be found, would also be encouraged.
     With renewed passion he walked the short distance out into the foyer where he instantly came face to face with what he felt was his youngest target.  This four foot squirming “Sunday-suited” little boy, busily tugging at the tie that was now askew at his neck, was preoccupied with his distorted facial image in his highly shined shoes.  A perfect candidate.
     Having learned that children oftentimes can feel small and insignificant having to look into the knees of towering adults, this determined seasoned clergy slowly knelt down on one knee, coming within inches of his intended. Being so absorbed in his mirrored facial contortions emulating being strangled by the tie that had now become a venomous snake, he was startled by the man kneeling directly in front of him.  He rocked back on his new Sunday shoes, wide-eyed with innocent skepticism.
     Extending his hand, the Reverend introduced himself to who was now his most important congregational member of the day. “Hello there, young man, I am Greenberry Lord.”  The small replica of his proud mother, who was greeting her way down the aisle to her favored pew, third from the front on the right, pretended she didn’t see her offspring’s disheveled new Sunday-ware.  
     It was the Reverend now at the mercy of this small boy reluctant to even return the offer of a handshake. Not only did he defiantly cross his arms over his chest, covering the snake that had now turned back into a tie, but his small youthful brow furrowed in total disbelief as his cherub mouth twisted from side to side finally ending up in a show of displeasure.  His body language reflected his utter disbelief to the Reverend’s introduction of being who he said he was.  But it was the young boy’s remark as he turned and marched down the aisle toward the safety of his mother that left the Reverend completely flabbergasted.
     As Reverend Greenberry Lord made his way slowly up to the platform he spoke briefly with the Deacon requesting that he not be formally introduced this morning.  Based on the experienced advice of his Patriarch and Professor, and the reaction he received from it, this was going to be a tough crowd this morning.  He used the time during the first welcoming hymn to gather his thoughts. The expression on the young boy’s face, now seated by his mother, had turned to an unbelieving scowl at the revelation that the man who had knelt in front of him and introduced himself as Greenberry Lord only moments ago was, in fact, the morning speaker.
     With the order of the service already being altered, this left the detail driven Deacon at a loss as to what to do next. Feeling his pain, Reverend Greenberry Lord took his place behind the pulpit where undoubtedly countless others had faced his present dilemma.  The growing input of quiet into the service eventually brought all eyes to rest on the man who now wondered if what he had to say was what he should say.  Again, as quickly as the words of his professor had come into his mind, another voice lent him his sermon for the morning. “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in the one who sent me .Trust that I am who I say I am.”  That was it. That was what he knew he was to deliver to this congregation. 
     It became highly evident when people began responding to what was probably the shortest sermon this group of people had ever heard, that it was the timeliest message.  Some came quietly to the alter to pray. Some sat in their seats with tears flowing unashamedly. Some reached over to share personally with the person sitting beside them. Some sought out others across the sanctuary to briefly engage in acts of forgiveness or encouragement.
     Never in all his years of preaching had Reverend Greenberry Lord experienced the out flowing of the Spirit of God after so few words. The air around him had become highly charged with power to save by what was the apparent statement of sarcastic unbelief of one small boy. His words had perhaps become the harbinger of the intents and hearts of the congregation of this church now experiencing revival as never before. Perhaps even echoing the words of a world in direr need of a Savior who seemed too good to be true. A savior, who like this aging Reverend, being who he said he is to a doubtful little boy.
     When the small child had voiced his skeptical retort of, “Oh yeah, and I am Strawberry Jesus,” had this little boy been used to honestly portray the majority of the world’s current mindset? A world caught up in unbelief, skepticism, and misunderstanding?  If so, there was still hope. For if the few words spoken on this beautiful Sunday morning that had found their intended mark in the hearts of this struggling congregation, could they not spread throughout a nation?
     Reverend Greenberry Lord watched his newest young friend bounding through the sanctuary’s open door seeking freedom from his Sunday best. Had he reached the youngest this morning? Had such a small number of words hid themselves in this young heart to reappear one day, making an impact on his world? Only time would tell.  Assuredly the turn of phrase of this small child had made a profound impact on this veteran man of God causing him to hear yet another voicing in his heart, “and a young child shall lead them.”

     As a final note, the Reverend's name really was, Greenberry Lord.