Good or bad, God knows
August 4, 2009 (Tuesday)
Last night I preached at the First Baptist Church of Refugio. The church had planned to have an evangelist for the week, but when he had to cancel, they decided to ask a few preachers to preach one night each. Last night it was my turn.
I first learned about Refugio and the church there, in 1953, through my dear friend, G.M. (“Mack”) Cole. His father was pastor there as Mack was growing up, and Mack often mentioned Refugio. It is one of the oldest towns in the country, founded as a Spanish settlement a long, long time ago. When I moved to Rockport, I became better acquainted with the church there because it was in our Baptist Association and only 30 miles away, just across Copano Bay. Through the years I would go to the church for Baptist meetings and sometimes even preach. In 1997, they called me as their Interim Pastor for four months as they searched for a new pastor. They repeated the call in 2001, that time for about 18 months. I learned to know and love the people as they ministered to me both times. The first interim took place just after our daughter Debbie Hamm had passed away, and the second interrim was in effect when my wife Wanda died in 2002. Needless to say, the love and compassion of the folks in Refugio during my bereavement and serious illness were deeply appreciated. Their continued friendship during the nearly seven years since I was their interim pastor means much to me.
As I began preaching the sermon last night, I felt like a hound dog seeking a trail that was hard to find. I preached longer than usual. Usually I try to dispense with all unnecessary introductory material and get right to the point, but I found myself having a hard time doing that. I don’t know why, and I am not satisfied with what I did, but I’ve been doing this for sixty-one years and have learned not to trust my feelings in such matters. If my goal is to let God use me then I have to be happy with the results. I know of several times through these years of preaching when people were blessed by the sermon when I did not think it went very well.
God has been so good to me in letting me preach to folks in the churches. I preached at Rockport for so long that some may not know I served in other places, too. Before coming to Rockport in 1964, I had been pastor of five churches and music director of one. I’ll be 78 next month, and never dreamed I would still be a pastor at this age. I thank the Lord and praise him for the long pastorate at Rockport, but also for each and every opportunity of service he gives me, especially for the ones after official retirement in 1996. No one knows better than I how unworthy I am of these blessings. I am thankful for his marvelous grace.