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Immanuel Baptist "On the Journey" Articles |
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| January 7, 2004 “Living Beyond Our Disabilities” In the summer of 1975, George Litz hired me to work in his machine shop. He did not hire me because I was a trained machinist. No, he offered me a job because he and I worshipped together on Sundays at the French Broad Baptist Church in Dandridge, Tennessee. Through his act of generosity and friendship I learned a very valuable lesson. In the fall of 1974, I had taken a job as a caretaker for a summer estate on Lake Douglas. Herman and Edith Drinnon, who owned a small general store with gas pumps befriended me. It was natural for them to invite me to attend their church—the French Broad Baptist Church. My friend, David Ellis, and I began to work with the Royal Ambassadors. Rita and I attended church there, and we were married in the church in June of 1975. It was a wonderful church with some very wonderful people. Manly Vesseur, our song-leader, was an Irish tenor. To this day, I can still hear his voice singing, “It is well with my soul.” Edith and Herman Drinnon were the quiet pillars of the church doing whatever was necessary to keep the church doors open. Mr. Calitt was an architect from Knoxville. Mr. Smith wore a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, western cut shirts, jeans, and a belt with a big buckle. He looked like he had walked off the set of Bonanza. George Litz was a dreamer and inventor. There were not many young people or young couples in the church, and Rita, David, and I found that the people swept us up and cared for us like their own children. Well, back to George Litz and my life in a machine shop. George had a small machine shop behind his house. He made brushes and holders for electric motors. The energy crisis was in full swing, and the coal mines were working at capacity. Coal operators were putting every piece of machinery possible back in operation. George had found that he could not supply the parts needed fast enough. He hired me to make the brushes freeing his other two employees to machine the brass holders. I must emphasize that I knew nothing about a machine shop. I had never worked with saws or drill presses or milling machines. I didn’t know what a brush for an electric motor even looked like. When I took the job, I did not realize I would be cutting and shaping and drilling big blocks of carbon. I knew nothing about tolerances. I had to learn the process for tamping copper leads into the carbon blocks. I must say that when I began I was intimidated by the whole environment and process. It was strange and new to me. There was so much to learn. George would come out with a drawing of a brush, throw it down in front of me, and say, “I need fifty of these by tomorrow afternoon to ship to West Virginia.” The first month or so I often thought of quitting. Yet, I was fortunate to find that one of my co-workers, Jesse Wolfe, was a genius in a machine shop, but more than that, he was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to identify the various grades and thickness of the carbon plates, to set up the saw, and to create the product George had designed. Jesse had tremendous patience with me, and he was a great encourager. He believed in me when I did not believe in myself. He was always providing the help and assurance I needed. There did come a day when Jesse determined I no longer needed his assistance, and when I was having trouble, he simply told me to continue to work at it. He knew I needed to develop my own competence. I worked for George Litz and Company for 15 months. I did learn to make carbon brushes for electric motors, but I learned something so much more valuable—I learned to seek to remain teachable in all circumstances and to be respectful of teachers and mentors. In 1975-76, I was a senior at Carson-Newman College majoring in Religion and History. Jesse Wolfe, my teacher and mentor in the machine shop, was a high-school dropout; yet, he was a person of unbelievable abilities. Across the years now, I have discovered that there are many things to learn from many different people if one is teachable. I suspect “teachableness” [this word is my creation] is one of the most important characteristics to develop for the journey of life and faith. Yet, I find that it is a very rare thing. It seems very difficult today for people to be open and receptive to the wisdom of others. Rather than learn from one another we often compete against each other. We often evaluate an individual’s credentials before we will listen to them. I suspect Jesus looked for “teachableness” in his followers. I suspect, too, this attribute was critical since he was criticized for being from Nazareth of Galilee and for not having studied with any of the learned rabbis of Jerusalem. Perhaps this was the source of the opposition he received from the religious authorities—he had not attended one of their schools and he was not from a city of Judea. Yet, I am thankful for those twelve who followed this carpenter/teacher. They accepted the instruction of their Master. When they stumbled along the way, he was their encourager. When they abandoned him, he loved them. And the result—all history was changed by the faithfulness of these teachable followers after resurrection. As we make the journey of faith, are we teachable? Who are our teachers? Have we learned to sit at Jesus’ feet like Mary? Have we discovered the wisdom and joy of life hidden in the mystery of the faith? Let us nurture hearts that are teachable and embrace the teachers we may meet in unlikely places with unknown credentials! jamie |
Website last updated: Monday, December 20, 2004 Website Related Questions/Comments: Chris Cash-ccash@vci.net |
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Immanuel Baptist Church - 3465 Buckner Lane - Paducah, KY, 42001 - 270.443.5306 - www.immanuel-paducah.org |