SLURRED WORDS

Yesterday I floated the idea that a pastor's personal prayer and Bible study time should be considered as part of the standard "40 hours" committed to the church each week. (Though, not too many pastors get by with just 40.)

This idea sprouts from an experience I had 25 years ago with one of the most unusual churches I have ever come across.

Back in my seminary days (the late 1990s), I was part of a youth ministry team with my good friends Tim and Jamie. We called ourselves FishForce and we traveled around to speak and sing and teach at youth events of various types, as our school schedules allowed.

One weekend we found ourselves in a small town in West Virginia. As we pulled up to the site of the weekend youth retreat we had been hired to lead, something seemed quite incongruous about the scene. The town we had driven through was more than a bit run-down, hit hard by slumps in local coal mining demand. The church hosting the retreat was small and traditional, with a steeple. Well kept. Nothing unusual about that. 

But across the street was a newly asphalted parking lot the size of a football field. We soon discovered what had prompted such a large lot. 

Friday night and Saturday, we worked with the kids - an enthusiastic and attentive group. Along the way we got to know the pastor a bit. The guy's name was Dave Knight. 

He was in a wheelchair, put there by a severe stroke a couple of years earlier. The stroke had left him unable to speak without slurring his words a great deal. 

(In fact, the first time I had talked to him on the phone a few weeks before the youth retreat, I thought someone was crank calling me, pretending to be drunk.)

Fortunately, the congregation had been supportive and patient. Physically incapacitated and unable to DO the traditional work of the church - no visitation, no typing bulletins, not even making phone calls in the early days - Pastor Knight had turned all of his attention and energy towards prayer and Bible study. He had all the time in the world to sit and pray and read his Bible. 

And soon the church exploded with growth. Both new believers and deeper believers. 

My friends and I stayed for Sunday morning after our retreat. The sanctuary was packed out. It is still the only church I have ever visited where the ushers rushed about, searching for empty seats for new arrivals. Each Sunday morning, as the service was about to start, two ushers would grab Pastor Knight by the back belt loops of his pants and lift him out of his wheelchair. Dave would shuffle down the center aisle holding onto a walker in front of him and supported from behind by those two men. 

Upon reaching the front of the sanctuary, Pastor Knight was lowered onto the front pew. The couple of steps up to the pulpit were too much and he couldn't have stood in the pulpit for any length of time anyway. 

As soon as Dave was placed in his pew, the ushers hurried to the back of the sanctuary and grabbed extra folding chairs to place at the end of each pew down the center aisle to squeeze in a bit more seating for those who came in late. 

Dave Knight actually preached from the first row pew, half-turned toward the congregation. It took a newcomer a few minutes to get acclimated to Dave's slur, but in time his words were understandable. And his conviction was unquestionable.

And God spoke through that man in powerful ways, despite the slur. 

Because his spirit was strong, the pastor's physical failings were inconsequential.