THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS

THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS

Occasionally I hear someone disparage the small things.  It could be a position at work they are filling and feel it is below their abilities, or even a pastor may feel frustrated by the small size of the church he is serving.  In my own ministry I have often yearned for a larger place of service.  When this happens I think of what the Prophet Zechariah asked in Zechariah 4:10:  “For who hath despised the day of small things….?  The meaning of that passage is that we should not despise those times or places.  I have in mind just such an occurrence in my life.

When I was in seminary in Kansas City, Missouri, Winona and I drove to Holton, Kansas, every week for one year to supply a small church who needed a pastor.  Holton is located about thirty miles north of Topeka and one hundred thirty from Kansas City.

On my very first Sunday as student pastor at the Holton church Winona and I discovered that the church was literally made up of the deaf, dumb, and blind.  One man who served as an usher was deaf and dumb for whom I had to use hand signals.  One woman was blind and had to be led around by someone.  Most of the others were decrepit.  At first the tiny congregation gave the impression of a discouraging and pitiful group.  However, despite the old facilities, the aged people, and the small and weak congregation the church grew during our tenure and several good things did happen.  One of the highlights of being the student pastor at Holton was that we became acquainted with Idella Anderson.  She was in her seventies, but taught the adult Sunday school class with considerable enthusiasm.

I soon learned that Idella was not a member of the church, and as a young idealistic seminarian I was concerned that we had a non-member teaching our only adult class.  I asked her about joining the church, but she wanted to keep her membership at the First Christian Church in town.  I never knew exactly why she was not attending there, but she had made the switch some years before.  I fretted over the situation for a few weeks and finally decided it was the better part of wisdom to forget the rules and have her continue teaching—besides there was no one else who would do it.

For some years Idella had written a weekly article for the local newspaper and often shared with me some of her writings.  In fact, the poem “Christmas Eyes” that I have used through the years was one of her writings.  I have cherished this poem:

            The cynic sees in Christmas just the glitter and display,

            The miser sees the foolishness of giving things away.

            The teacher sees the burden of a program, tree or play.

            While the merchant sees his balance at the close of each hard day.

            The glutton sees the table spread with everything complete

            To satisfy the appetite—rich pastries, savory meat.

            The child sees only toyland, oranges, nuts, and candies sweet,

            And a jolly rotund Santa Claus a-jingling down the street.

            The seamstress sees the garments to be finished without fail,

            The “Martha” sees the cooking, cleaning—all that guests entail.

            The needy sees his poverty, hears his hungry child’s sad wail.

            The worldling sees gay parties lasting till the stars grow pale.

            But the Christian sees the manger, sees the Holy Child within,

            With the shepherds and the wise men hears the angels’ wonder hymn.

            Sees how dark would be the picture if all this had never been,

            Then in humble adoration bows the knee and worships Him.

After nearly a year of driving the 130 miles each way to Holton, we decided to give up the church.  Winona was getting to the point in her first pregnancy that it was becoming more and more difficult to make the trip every weekend.  On the Sunday morning that I gave my thirty-day notice I also mentioned that I was going to have to cut back on my class load and get a job working more hours.  Winona was not going to be teaching in the fall.

Two weeks following the announcement of my resignation Idella invited us to her home for Sunday dinner.  She lived in very modest quarters in the basement of a funeral home owned by her son.  During the dinner Idella mentioned that she had a nephew who was the vice-president of a company in Kansas City who might need a worker.  She found his telephone number for me and made a promise to call him about the possibility of a job for me.  I thanked her for the information but did not think the chances of that happening would be very great.

However, in a couple of days I called Bill Reno at Peterson Manufacturing Company in Kansas City.  In fact, the company was located just a mile from where we were living on Sixty-seventh Terrace.  Mr. Reno told me that his aunt had called him about my interest in a job, and he wanted me to come to the office and complete an application.  He was needing a person to run the new Smith-Corona billing machine.

I was hired and was able to work from 2:00 p.m. until 9:00 p.m. each evening.  This allowed me to take some seminary classes in the mornings.  It was the best job that I had ever had up to that point in my life—and I owe it all to Idella Anderson!

Also, when I graduated from seminary Mr. Reno offered me a full-time job with a good salary and all benefits if I would stay.  Numerous times through the years I have thought that I should have stayed there!

(Peterson Manufacturing Company makes auto and truck accessories, such as rear view mirrors, tail lights, reflectors, and turn signals.  Some of our large customers were U-Haul and Trailmobile, but we distributed parts to hundreds of auto parts stores across the country.)