“My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold”
By William Wordsworth
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So it was when my life began;
So it is now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I
thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish
ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall
see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am
fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest
of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:11-13
What difference does one church make? First Baptist
Church of Cleburne is celebrating 150 years. It is natural on such an occasion
to reflect on what difference the congregation has made in the community after
so much time. It would be hard to say how Cleburne or Johnson County would be
different if First Baptist Church did not exist. One could certainly make a
case for the church’s impact over 150 years. I can say with more certainty that
First Baptist Cleburne made a difference to me. I started attending the church
when I was six years old and made a profession of faith and was baptized by the
age of seven. Ten years later I preached my first sermon, publicly
surrendered my life to vocational ministry, and was licensed as a minister by
First Baptist Cleburne. I have been in full-time vocational ministry for about
25 years, almost 15 of those years as a Pastor.
My memories of First Baptist Cleburne are those of
a child and adolescent. As an adult reflecting on the influence that
congregation had on me, I understand things differently now. Yet, I feel
such powerful emotions when the memories come to me. I think the poet Wordsworth
has the right of it: the child is the father of the man. My formative years
where shaped in a powerful way by First Baptist Cleburne. How did this
congregation shape my life?
Probably not by the ministries, no offense to
those who worked so hard. I was active in all of them: every Sunday and
Wednesday and other days too. I went to Sunday School and worship, Sunday night
church training and worship, children’s choirs and youth choirs, Mission
Friends and Royal Ambassadors, Youth Bible studies out the wazoo, camps,
retreats, mission trips, ski trips Vacation Bible School, all of it. With a few
notable exceptions, I remember so little of what took place. I am having
difficulty remembering a single sermon preached in that pulpit, even my own!
As I look back, some things come into focus for
me. As a member of First Baptist Cleburne I was personally shaped in four
specific ways: by the music ministry, through missions, by examples of
Christ-like servanthood, and through individual church members who invested in
me over time.
I was shaped by the Music Ministry of First
Baptist Cleburne. My parents were members at First Baptist for about 35 years,
give or take. Some of my earliest impressions of church are of sitting next to
my father in Sunday night worship services as he sang tenor and bass parts to
hymns led by Coy Simms. My folks saw A LOT of changes in the music ministry over
the years. There are many opinions about what was done and why and how. I think
the changes were the natural transformations that take place in congregations
as decades pass. What the music ministry offered during my time there had a
definite influence on me. I was in the choir program from first grade through
my senior year in high school. Only Tim Twaddell logged more choir hours than I
did among our peers. I sang in countless Christmas pageants and even had a
speaking part in one. I remember going to choir festivals that were not very
festive but seemed more like the Great White Throne Judgment. We prepared for
months, even learning how to stand up and sit down on cue. In all of this I
learned an appreciation and love for worship, for hymns, for praise music, for
singing a new song to the Lord. I especially learned the importance of a strong
choral ministry, how it involves many people in worship, and allows a variety
of people to use the gifts given to them by God. In my own church I am
committed to the music and creative arts ministry in all its various
incarnations. I learned my lessons well.
I had close relationships with pastors, youth
ministers, and ministers of education at First Baptist Cleburne. I love and
respect them all. The minister who influenced me most, who continues to
influence me, is Mike Paslay, a Minister of Music. I have written about Mike
before, so I will say now simply that God used Mike at pivotal times in my life
to discover who I am, my calling to ministry, what it means to be a husband and
father in ministry, what it means to be a part of a diverse staff, and how to
stay in ministry over a long period of time. I continually thank God for Mike
and his ministry at First Baptist Cleburne.
First Baptist Cleburne also profoundly shaped the
way I understand missions in a Baptist church. I grew up at a time in Baptist
life when people were immersed in missions education from a young age through
adulthood. My mother taught Mission Friends alongside Maxine George and others.
I went to Royal Ambassadors (RAs) and worked through workbooks getting badges
and other stuff. We were a challenge to work with, our little group of RAs,
with many a leader attempting to teach us about Southern Baptist mission endeavors.
Most influential was Wayne Rosette. He taught us in the classroom every
Wednesday night but also had us out doing other things as well. I vividly
remember our campouts out at Bob Lilly’s property near Glen Rose. The men
taught us how to camp, build fires, cook over a campfire, tie knots, and other
outdoorsy kind of things. First Baptist Cleburne had a missionary residence where
missionaries on furlough could stay. These families were treated like
celebrities in our church. We heard their stories and prayed for them on a
regular basis. My father spent many hours helping to strengthen local Spanish
speaking congregations. I remember well the time when our church planted a
mission church in Cleburne, sending some of our families to be founding
members. That mission went on to become Nolan River Road Baptist Church. When I
was a teenager I went on mission trips to various places, trips that had a
formative influence on me. There seems to be this mission spirit running
through First Baptist Cleburne, as the members teach missions, pray for
missions, give to missions, and engage in missions locally and away. Recently I
was on the receiving end of First Baptist Cleburne’s mission efforts as they
took up a collection of goods and delivered it to my current church and
community in Rockport after Hurricane Harvey. I am thankful First Baptist
Cleburne is a sending church.
First Baptist Cleburne shaped my understanding of
Christ-like servanthood: as a man, a family, and as a minister. My family
invested their lives in First Baptist Cleburne over the course of three decades
at least. My father was an ordained deacon in the church, serving as Chairman
from time to time. He served on many committees and various ministries. He led
in Children’s Church when I was a child. He worked on and around the building
for years. There was a time when he made my brother and I go with him to the
church on Saturdays to mow the church yard and make it look nice for Sunday. I
remember the summer my father drove the church bus for Vacation Bible School.
My mother served on various committees over the years. She served on at least
one search committee that brought a youth minister to our church, Ken Lewis,
who influenced me in great ways. She taught in VBS and Mission Friends. There
was a time in which my parents served on the Lord’s Supper Committee. Things
were much different back then. My mother spent the day before the Lord’s Supper
baking all those little wafers. She would roll out the dough and use a pizza
cutter to make the squares and then put them in the oven. I got to eat the
uneven ones closer to the edges. The juice was put in little glass cups that
had to be collected carefully after the service and washed by hand. I
distinctly remember hearing someone drop one of the glass cups on the floor
during the service. The cup did not break but bounced on the tile floor and
rolled its way to the front of the sanctuary. My family was invested in the
life of the church. We sacrificed time and resources for what we thought was a
worthy purpose. Another example of Christ-like servanthood was the time Dr.
Danny Crosby drove at least an hour to attend my grandmother’s funeral. As a
pastor I know what a sacrifice that can be, especially when you are not
officiating the service. I would not do that for just anybody. It touched me
deeply that he did that to express his love and support for my parents.
First Baptist Cleburne also shaped me through
individual church members who invested in my life during my formative years.
There are too many to mention them all. I am filled with so much emotion as I
remember them. I remember Mr. Yeary standing at the doors of the sanctuary
handing out bulletins and peppermints. I remember sitting behind Hugh and
Laurie Smith every Sunday as a child. She wore a hat every week, and Hugh would
always turn around with a big smile and shake my hand. I remember my family
riding with Maury Dobbs as he took us around town in his maroon car. I marveled
that everything he owned seemed to be maroon. My mom said it was because he was
an aggie. I didn’t know what that meant. Still don’t, really. I remember how
cold the water was when I was baptized, and Dr. Ron Horton standing in the
water telling me how proud he was of me. I remember the first time I saw the
inside of the women’s restroom. Wilma Reed took me in there because I had a
nosebleed during the service. I sat on the couch while she took care of me, and
I wondered at the fact there was a couch in the women’s restroom. Wilma was one
who invested in me in many was over the years. My life and ministry have her
fingerprints all over them. I remember sitting down on the front pew with the
Twaddell family during worship and having to be quiet because Mr. Twaddell had
a big ring he threatened to pop me and Tim with if we got too loud. I don’t
think he ever did, but the fear was real. I remember that Jane Sims resigned as
my fourth grade Sunday School teacher because of four incorrigible boys: Tim
Twaddell, Lynn Wheatley, George Walls, and me. I remember that she told us that
she loved us but couldn’t do it anymore. I remember my parent’s grief,
especially my father’s, over the loss of friends and co-servants over the
years, people like Wayne Stewart, Bob Mahaney, Bill George, Marshall Young, and
Maury Dobbs, just to name a few. I remember Don Wilson teaching my Sunday
School class and challenging me personally to live out my faith as a teenager.
He found ways to engage me every week. I remember listening to Jackie Crumpton
laugh. I loved to hear him laugh. Hearing him laugh again is one of the things
I look forward to most about Heaven. I could go on for pages.
I have been profoundly shaped by the lives of
those who drifted in and out of First Baptist Cleburne over the course of
decades. God, in his wisdom, love, and grace, used this congregation in my
formative years to shape my understanding of how a church worships, serves,
sends, loves, and lives together year after year, decade upon decade, through
life and death, joy and tragedy, in big things, and in small things. From these
people I learned to have faith, hope, and love. Looking back, I can see clearly
that I was deeply loved, by both God and His people.
Thank you, First Baptist Cleburne. I celebrate
your 150 years of ministry in Johnson County. It has made a difference to me.
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