Other Words

Over the years, I have “sat” under the preaching and teaching of many ministers – some memorable for the right reasons and some for the wrong reasons.  I have forgotten the names of several of them from my youth, except for the one who always preached that I was going to hell for watching TV, wearing jeans and shorts, and listening to that devil music Rock ‘n’ Roll.

What I have noticed in my more mature and sometimes comical Christian walk are some of the “other” words that preachers proclaim from the pulpit – some of the ways that they punctuate their sermons, so to speak.  In my early days of attending a church in Wisconsin, a well-known evangelist came to preach for a few consecutive nights – for what we evangelicals would call a “revival.”  I don’t recall that I was revived.  Instead, because I know so much, I think I got carpel tunnel syndrome, tennis elbow, and a torn rotator cuff from raising my hand.  All this exercise came about because the evangelist had a habit of asking, “How many of you know . . . ?”  He couldn’t just deliver a message.  He had to take a survey of how much the congregation knew every few minutes.  And, as I stated earlier, I know a lot.  I found his device to be annoying and insincere after the first few “How many of you know . . .”

As I progressed in my Christian walk, I observed some other interesting ways that ministers use to keep us awake and active during sermons.  One of the favorites of many is to say, “Turn to your neighbor and say . . .”   I have turned to some complete strangers and told them that I love them or that they look beautiful.  And, I can do it seemingly and somewhat convincingly with all sincerity after being prompted with the words to use from the pulpit.  When visiting a new church, it makes me want to scout out the congregation before being seated because I never know ahead of time what I may be required to turn to my neighbor and say.  I wish I had only realized this valuable technique while I was still teaching.  I am certain my students would have loved to have turned to their neighbors to say, “A noun is a person, place, or thing.”  It would have been so much better than what they were saying to each other until I imposed my topic of conversation upon them.

Some ministers in the South have provided me with entertainment with their “other” words.  I loved it when a former pastor would say, “Amen to a preacher is like sic ‘em to a dog.”  I loved it even better the Sunday he went in reverse without realizing it and said, “Sic ‘em to a preacher is like amen to a dog.”  It made me want to run around the neighborhood using the command “amen” to get the dogs to attack any would be intruders.

Another minister always asks the congregation, “Are you with me, or have you gone home?”  I am sure he understands the attention span of his congregation.  And, yet another pastor, when he strays from his prepared sermon, will apologize for “going down a rabbit trail.”  I never heard anything to compare when I lived in the Midwest, and we did have rabbit trails there – complete with droppings.

When I was young, the route from Bridgeport to Chattanooga was US 41 that went up and then down Lookout Mountain into the big city of the Chattanooga Choo Choo.  As I traveled to Chattanooga – usually on a Trailways bus – at one point in the journey, I would always look over to my right and see an establishment that I remember being called Pete’s.  Pete’s little slice of the South was carved out of a narrow strip of land between US 41 and the rock solid walls of Lookout Mountain.  For many years, it was as recognizable as Ruby Falls and Rock City on up the mountain a little piece (as opposed to a far piece).

My memory of the name of Pete’s may be a little vague, but my memories of the beautiful chenille bedspreads that were displayed draped over a clothesline outside are not.  I always wanted that beautiful white chenille bedspread with a multi-colored peacock in the design.  But, alas, I was young and poor and on a bus that was not going to stop at Pete’s even if I had money.  Pete also had signs about seeing the bears or alligators or some wild animal.  And, he had cider, and ice cream, and pecan rolls, and all those other things that make visions of sugar plum fairies dance in a child’s head.  Pete also had a big billboard that proclaimed a message to this effect:  “If you can’t stop, wave as you pass by.”

That little travel interlude brings me to my last “other” words from the pulpit.  On more than one occasion in more than one church, a minister has asked, “Can I get a wave offering?”  It is similar to asking if one could get an “amen,” but it requires lifting my hands to wave — not the stadium version of a wave — but one of those side-to-side motions like I am using a big fan to clear the air.  And, it reminds me of the sign at Pete’s telling me that if I can’t stop, to wave as I pass by.  When it gets right down to it, when I didn’t stop at Pete’s and invest any of my money in his merchandise, it was a friendly Southern gesture, but an empty gesture nonetheless, just to wave.  I invested nothing in his establishment, nothing in his future success with my wave as I passed by longing for that peacock bedspread.

That is how I feel about giving the Lord a wave offering in church.  I searched every instance of wave offerings in Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers where Moses gives the Lord’s instructions to His priests and His people.  In each instance, there is an actual, physical offering in the priest’s hand when the offering is waved over the altar.  That tells me that God does not just want us to wave at Him as we pass by.  He wants us to bring our tithes to His storehouse, and He wants our offerings to be more than empty hands.  If we are to wave an offering before God, let’s be sure that we have something to wave at Him – if not our monetary offering, then our offering of praise and thanksgiving.

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