CONSEQUENCES [T, 4-14-26]

CHRIST IN WINTER: The Irrelevant Reminiscences of An Old Trouble Maker—CONSEQUENCES [T, 4-14-26]

 

It was a District clergy meeting. By chance, I was sitting beside the pastor of the biggest church [almost 7000 members] not just in the District or the Conference but in the Jurisdiction [9 states]. I introduced myself.

“Oh, I’ve heard of you. You’re the trouble maker they’re all afraid of.”

He obviously had me confused with someone else. Afraid of? Me? Who could be afraid of me? And trouble? The last thing I wanted was trouble. I liked to tell jokes and stories. I wanted everybody to like me. I wanted to be successful. You don’t get to be successful if folks are scared of you..

“Yes, scared to death of you.” He chuckled a little. “They have no idea what you’ll do next.”

I guess that made sense, since I had no idea what I’d do next.

It did not make sense, though, for anyone to be afraid of me. I was only two years out of seminary, not yet 30 years old, just a campus minister, the lowliest of the low, not even considered to be a real preacher, because I was just “a student worker.” [We hadn’t yet gotten around to saying “campus ministry” instead of “student work.”]

“But who’s scared of me?”

“The Bishop, of course. And the District Superintendents. And everyone else who profits from keeping things the way they are.”

“But why would they be scared of me?”

“Because you don’t care about the consequences. There are more preachers in this conference than you know about who believe the same stuff you do, but they’re afraid to say it, because of the consequences. People will get mad at them. Preachers want everyone to like them. Maybe they won’t get a good appointment next time. Maybe they’ll even get fired from the job they have. Maybe their pension will be affected. They’re afraid of the consequences. The power people count on that. It’s how they keep people in line. They can’t keep you in line, because you don’t care about the consequences.”

Bob Thornburg wasn’t exactly right. I cared a great deal about the consequences, but not to me personally. Even though I didn’t want trouble, if it came, well, I still had to keep preaching racial equality. Civil Rights! Voting Rights! No more waiting! Right now!

Racial equality was the issue then. There have been others since. With the same problem for me. I wanted to be liked. I wanted bigger and more prestigious appointments, with bigger salaries. I wanted accolades and affirmations and awards and armadillos… sorry… I got carried away with alliteration…

Nothing really wrong with wanting those things, but they were not why God had called me to be a preacher. I had to speak the truth, even though there would be negative feedback. I had to “damn the torpedoes…” er, consequences.

There is a thin line between bravery and stupidity. Both are defined, though, by not paying attention to the consequences. “Hold my beer,” and “Hang on, Sloopy,” are pretty much the same thing, except that a beer-fueled act is stupid, and hanging on to support the disrespected is love. [1] Either way, there will be consequences. If you think too much about the consequences, you’ll just chug your beer or leave Sloopy to the whims of the overlords.

As it turned out, my lowly status as a campus minister turned out to be an advantage. The principalities and powers were able to say, “Well, he can’t do much damage. He’s just one of those young trouble-making student workers. No one pays attention to them.”

It was true. The no one--the older folks who wanted everything to stay the same, just so they could take it easy--they did not pay attention to me. For them, that was a big mistake, for their children and grandchildren were at my campus, and they came to hear me preach. They did pay attention.

One of the problems of old age is that I no longer scare anyone. Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I had my chance to create what John Lewis called “good trouble.” All you have do to be scary is just ignore the consequences.

John Robert McFarland

1] Along with “We Shall Overcome,” The McCoys’ “Hang On, Sloopy” was what the student activists in the 1960s sang as they marched for Civil Rights.