We've just survived midterm elections where a peculiar segment of our population rabidly seeks to be known by the rest of us. They take out advertisements in all the media for the express purpose of getting recognized. Those whose names and faces we already know spend all kinds of money to be recognized for what they consider to be the right reasons, while their opponents try to make sure they are recognized for the wrong reasons. And then there are those who have accomplished greater things than any of these politicians, but don't get the recognition they deserve.
Malcolm is one of the latter. Malcolm was one of Matt's college roommates, doing his undergrad work in ministerial studies at Roberts Wesleyan College in the mid-90's. Don't let the words "ministerial studies" deceive you into thinking all was rather dull and boring with Malcolm. He was, and is, anything but. I could relate many a story, but most of them are his to tell, not mine. OK, I'll tell just one. Malcolm needed to do an internship for his course of studies, and asked if I would be willing to give him the opportunity. I figured, "What is there to not like about this? He works for free; we just provide room and board." At the time of this particular incident, he was staying at a friend's house; Eric by name. Malcolm was a city boy, born and bred on the streets of Miami. Eric is country through and through. Farmer. NRA. You get the idea. Well, it seems as if Malcolm was more fond of the night life than Eric, who got a bit tired of his tenant's penchant for coming home in the wee hours of the morning. One particular night, he had had enough. Remember I just said Eric is NRA? It was way past midnight on this particular occasion when Malcolm came tip-toeing up the stairs. He hadn't made the second step when he heard "click," "Who's there?" from the Eric's bedroom at the top of the stairs. There's no mistaking the sound of a .357 being cocked. A weak, "It's me, Malcolm," was all he managed to squeak out.
Malcolm kept farmer hours from that day on.
All of which is completely irrelevant to my purposes tonight. One of the tasks I gave Malcolm was to preach once a month for me. I was surprised to learn that many students rarely if ever got the chance to preach in their internships. Apparently most preachers are pretty reluctant to give up their pulpits. Some are actually intimidated by these young students. I figured that the only way for him to learn to preach was to do it, so he did. And in the process, we received an unexpected benefit that is bearing fruit to this very day.
There actually are pastors out there who are super organized, managerial types who have their entire year's worth of sermons planned out in detail by the end of the previous December. These are the ones who in addition to their pastoral duties, found Bible Schools, produce radio programs, and become sought after conference speakers. I am not one of them. It was all I could do to plan a year's worth of sermon topics. Most of the time, I struggled to think ahead one month at a time. Churches that average between 100 and 175 are too large for one pastor to handle, but usually too small to afford additional staff, so their solo pastors are running ragged just trying to keep up with the basics. Long-range planning? It just doesn't happen.
By preaching for me, Malcolm gave me the necessary time once each month to dream and plan on a larger canvas than would have been otherwise possible. He stayed with us past the six months for which we originally contracted, and in doing so, paved the way for my vision of reaching the heart of the county with the heart of Christ. He moved on before this vision began to be translated into concrete, wood, and drywall, but had he not given me that monthly breathing room, Park church would still be a little country meetinghouse on the corner of Lester Street and East Avenue.
We are not large by most standards, but we are reaching people and impacting our community today in ways that would have been impossible without Malcolm's ministry to us. He is pastoring in California, but his ministry and influence is bi-coastal to this day. So, Malcolm--Thank you! From me, from Park church, from our new pastor Joe, and from the community of Sinclairville, NY; thank you!
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