His name was Joe. He'd spent most of the time I had known him, somewhere in Brazil, working with the tribes and villages along the great Amazon River. But when he and his wife came home on 'furlough' for their break from missionary work, they spent most of the time, especially the evenings, sharing and preaching about their ministry so far away. It was in the days before computers and of course internet and colour television was only in its infancy, so when they came to our area, it was always going to be a special treat to see a slide presentation from the other side of the world with an 'on the spot' commentary by Joe or his wife, sitting beside the slide projector and manually advancing the show as they talked. Often his wife would sing a song or two, sometimes in Portuguese and almost always would teach us kids a chorus in the native Amazonian tongue, which was all great fun, but usually forgotten by the next day. There would be a bookstall too, with plenty of pencils, sharpeners and bookmarks to keep us interested while the adults browsed the literature. The whole event was officially called a 'box opening' because everybody who had decided to support the mission financially, brought along a wooden money box, that they had been filling with coins all year and gave it to a lady called Edna, who then spent the later part of the evening, during supper, counting the money and announcing a grand total before we all departed. Yes it was an interesting evening alright and of course the tea, sandwiches and buns were always the icing on the cake, so to speak but the thing I really remember about Joe was his accent. Even though he was from the province and you could hear clear strains of Ulster as he spoke, there was a definite slice of American in there and also a strong flavour of a Brazilian trying to speak English. It was beautiful and soothing on the ear and even though I don't remember much about what he preached on any night, I hung on every word. And even though Joe had lots to tell about their time among the Amazon tribes and how many were coming to faith, he had another story to tell too, for many years earlier, his brother, along with two others had been killed by one of these tribes as they tried unsuccessfully to bring the message of the Gospel to them. They all had the same Christian name and are always remembered as the Three Freds and I'm sure that loss had a huge effect on Joe personally and his desire to be a missionary in Brazil, though I was still too young to ask him about it at the time.
The next time that I would hear that same sort of accent was when a local lad called Jack, who used to attend those same 'box openings' that we went to, would be called with his wife to the same part of the world and when they would arrive home on 'furlough', I 'd hear that same soft accent all over again.
I think the wonderful thing about those preachers and many others I have heard over the years is their humility and love for God. Sometimes when I tune into some of our Satellite channels that seek to present God to the world, I don't see that same humble approach nor the desire to remain anonymous in God's work. What I do see are men and women who can shout loudly, put on a show, wave their arms about wildly, constantly pace , even run across the stage and speak in a voice which suggests that they are the authority on all things and not God. I see programmes where money has become the over riding factor and where the whole experience has become a show with the main act occupying centre stage for the last thirty or forty minutes before often going into an extended appeal that sometimes appears more man driven that God designed. I think of a renowned preacher I heard last year who seemed more intent on telling anecdotes and personal stories to pass the time. And I think about the 'box opening', a small gathering of about sixty people in a little country hall and a humble preacher who had gone to the other side of the world without all the razzmatazz but whom God would welcome as 'a good and faithful servant.' I was reminded of that this week as another friend, David, returned from Africa, after ten days of preaching and only a handful of people knew he was gone.
You see preaching is all about letting God speak and the preacher delivering the message. It's a fearsome task with great responsibility. Paul, writing to the Corinthian church said, 'When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.' And he went on to write, 'I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling.' He added,'My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on men's wisdom, but on God's power.' Even though he accomplished what he set out to do, he finishes by saying 'My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.'
Maybe that's the yardstick for a preacher. Not as to whether they deliver eloquent words or command a presence and a standing among others but whether God will judge them to have been humble and obedient in their work for him. That's the end of my sermon.
