I was complaining to my

wife about my lack of time and bemoaning the fact that I

had to attend a denominational meeting. The lack of time

is due to my taking several seminary courses in order to

finish a master's degree program that I began a zillion

years ago. During the spring, I traveled to Springfield,

Mo., for a week of courses, followed by a course in

Lakeland, Fla. This fall I took another course in

Lakeland and, recently, I was involved in yet another

course in Philadelphia.

This week is my

denominational meeting in Jacksonville, Fla., and, next

week, I return to Springfield for another course. Then,

over the next three months, I have essays to complete,

books (boring books) to read, research to complete, and

papers to write. In the midst of all this, my church,

which I helped plant three years ago, is trying to raise

a ton of money and close a contract on 11.5 acres of

land.

It was with this in mind

that I said, "I wish I knew who was speaking at the

Friday night meeting in Jacksonville."

"Why?" my wife

replied. "What difference would that make?"

"Well, if the person

isn't a very good speaker, I can leave about noon and

head home instead of staying for the closing service and

departing on Saturday."

"Shouldn't you stay

for everything?" she innocently asked.

"Cindy, I need the

time! If the speaker isn't a good one, I feel perfectly

justified in leaving early!"

Muttering, I stalked off.

It wasn't as though we wouldn't have great speakers

throughout the convocation. At least two archbishops, two

bishops, and a dean of a cathedral would be speaking

during the week. And, in our denomination, the leaders

are known for their great preaching ability.

Some two hours later, I

checked my e-mail and began to read a letter from the

archbishop's office. Kathy Wright, the archbishop's

secretary, had sent a letter informing me that the

archbishop was requesting that I be the speaker for the

ordination service on Friday night. "Wow! What an

honor!" I frankly beamed with delight.

I rushed to tell my wife

the good news that I would be the Friday night speaker at

the convocation. After hearing the news, Cindy paused and

said in a serious tone, "Well, that's good. Now everyone

will be able to leave early!"

Duh.

Suddenly, I found myself

hoping that no one would find out who the Friday evening

speaker was going to be. I knew I would work hard, pray,

and prepare. I felt that I would have a significant word

for those gathered for the service. I wanted everyone to

be there. It's funny how our perspective changes when

something is important to us. An event that I wanted to

miss in the worst way instantly changed into one of the

important evenings in my year. Why? Because I was

involved.

Several years ago, my

middle son, John punted the football during a freshman

game in high school. The wind was blowing fiercely, and,

as the ball sailed high, was caught by a powerful gust.

The ball hit the ground and, with each bounce, was picked

up by another gust. When the ball finally stopped

rolling, the kick, greatly aided by the wind, measured 75

yards! What did John do? He looked over to see if I had

been watching. Hardly anybody attended that game, but it

was important that I be there. Why? Because John was in

the game. It was important to him.

Many times I would catch my

oldest son, Jason, looking up from the field during his

high school career. When he finally spied his mother or

me, he would get back to the game. He needed to know that

we were there watching. When my youngest, James, was

running the mile in middle high school, his painful shin

splits began acting up. He fell into last place and, even

at a distance, I could see the pain on his face as he

doggedly ran on. Twice, he looked to the stands to see if

anyone was watching. Twice, I gave him the "thumbs

up" and he seemed to gain strength and

determination. He finished last in that race but he

finished. He wasn't alone that day. It mattered that I

was there. It matters a very great deal to children that

their parents are present and watching.

I'm a lot like my sons, I

realize that. It matters to me that people, especially

our church people, are present on Sunday morning. I need

to know that they are there encouraging me, helping me

through the sermon. I understand that they probably need

the message I bring, but, frankly, I need them just as

much, if not more. People think it doesn't matter if they

miss church, they assume no one notices. Pastors

certainly notice. It matters to them. It matters to me.

I realize that my wife was

right. I really should attend every function at

convocation, and I should attend church even when I'm not

the one preaching. I will surely need what they have to

say, but, just as surely, they need me too. I obviously

will stay through Friday night at this year's

convocation. I'll stay through Friday night next year,

too. It will probably matter to someone.

[Father David Epps is

rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church.

He may be contacted at [email protected] or at P. O. Box 2192, Peachtree

City, GA 30269.]