Once upon a
time there was a local church that had a tradition. For several months
each year on a selected night a “Men’s and Boy’s Training Class” was
conducted in which those interested were trained and encouraged to
develop and use their talents in God’s service. This tradition continued
for decades and helped to produce elders, deacons, preachers and other
leaders in congregations to which these young men would, in later years,
be scattered.
There was
an old man in that church that rarely missed one of these classes. Even
when he was in his eighties and in poor health he was present. He sat
patiently as young men and boys led songs pitched too low and sung too
slowly. He listened attentively as several struggled to make it through
five minute talks on very basic Bible topics. Others read scripture in a
voice that you could barely hear and in a manner that made listening
difficult. The old man had never led a song, thus this phase of the
training had no application to him. However, he had preached, taught
classes and read from the Bible for half a century. But he had forgotten
more scripture than most of these young men would ever know. Even in his
old age he could still speak with much more skill of Bible themes than
those to whom he was listening. He knew he was nearing the end of his
life and that his most active years of service and assembly
participation were behind him. He could have easily begged off and
rationalized, “I’ll not learn anything, I’ll never use any of the
training techniques being taught, and it’s difficult listening to the
feeble efforts of these novices”. Then why did he attend the training
classes?
The reason was simple: he was there to encourage and he
was aware of the power of his example and the impact it would have upon
others if he failed to attend.
I’ve
thought of this old man and this training class many times through the
years. I’ve thought of it when brethren say they’ll not participate in a
class or some assembly because they don’t care for the teacher, or the
subject matter is something that doesn’t interest them, or it has no
application to them, etc., etc. I’ve wondered if they’ve thought of the
power of their example. I’ve wondered if they realize that others are
watching, and will remember, what they do and don’t do. And I’ve
wondered if it has dawned on them that, by what they are failing to do,
they are being a discouragement to others and causing someone else to
follow their poor example. And as I ponder these things, I more and more
have less and less patience with such conduct.
This
church, this class, and this old man are not some fictional scenario I
made up to illustrate the power of example. This church is where I grew
up. This training class is where I got my first instruction in public
service. This old man was my grandfather.
I’m glad
that J.A. Bruton thought about the power of his example and I wish that
more would do likewise.
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