(Below is a piece I wrote a few months ago as an essay for the North Carolina Senior Games literary competition.)
The year 2024 marks a special
anniversary for me as I have now served
as a pastor for 50 years. I find myself
thinking back to 1974 when I was first
appointed as a United Methodist
pastor. I was young and was a few semester hours shy of my bachelors
degree when I got the call that I was being appointed to serve as a pastor of 3
United Methodist Churches in a rural
area of eastern North Carolina. There
was so much that was new to me in those early days of pastoral ministry. While my grandparents lived in a rural
area, I did not. I grew up in a small North Carolina
town. Though I was licensed to preach
(or was a candidate for ministry as they call it today) and had served on
church staff for two years, I was new to the role of pastor.
After I had been there a few
weeks, I heard some of the folks in the church talking about doing a “pounding”
of their new pastor. When I heard the word “pounding”, it
brought thoughts of being pommelled or beaten up. I wondered what I had done so badly in a short time that they were going to pound
me! I soon discovered that while I
thought “pounding” was a bad thing, it really was a good thing because one day
they placed before me “pounds” of sugar, flour, and other household goods that
made the grocery bill much lighter.
In the Fall, we prepared for
Homecoming and Revival Services at the 3 churches. We had Revival Services for 3 weeks in a
row and 3 straight Sundays of Homecoming Services. While the congregation might have been
revived, this new pastor was pretty tired after those 3 weeks. As that first Homecoming Day approaches,
some of the folks in the church talked about “pastry”. As a small town city boy, my idea of
pastry was doughnuts, chocolate eclairs, and the like. I soon discovered that what they called
pastry was what we called at our house chicken and dumplings. Sometimes,
we can live in the same state and
do not speak the same language.
I did not understand what words like “pounding” and “pastry”
meant in my early months of being a pastor.
Today, it is also true that you can be in the same
family and you do not speak the same
language. Though my wife Ann and I have
been married for decades, it is not
unusual for us to show each other
affection around the house. I
recall a time when some of our daughters were teenagers and my wife and I exchanged a hug and kiss in
their presence. As she witnessed the moment, our daughter erupted, “No PDA.”
I did not know what PDA was until they instructed me some time later
that it was an abbreviation for “public display of affection.”
I continue to seek to be proficient in use of social media, the
internet, and text messaging even though it is challenging for me. When I was young, text was the scripture the pastor
would read in Sunday worship and online
is where Mom hung the clothes after washing them on Monday morning. I see quite often that there is a different
language in those spaces. Sometimes,
our daughters will text me “TIA”
or “TY”. I thought they were texting me about a
person named Tia or a fella named Ty.
Sometimes, it seems that I am
living in a different land. TIA for
reading and listening. -
Randy L. Wall
PRAYER
-- O God, thank
you for memories, and for the ability to
serve you. Use me to glorify your name
today and everyday; through Christ our
Lord. Amen.
