Father Corn

In my adult life I have had many titles.  To use the common expression, I’ve worn a lot of hats.  As is true of most ministers in the Baptist tradition, I have had many church members who called me Preacher.  I don’t really object to that, but I have always preferred the title of Pastor.  It is a more comprehensive term.  You can be a Preacher without being a Pastor, but you can’t be a Pastor without also being a Preacher.  A few folks have, tongue in cheek, referred to me as Reverend Corn.  Once again, I don’t object to the title, but it does have an air of formality about it that just isn’t me.

Still, those are not the only titles I have answered to.  Early on in my ministry I was Chaplain Corn, serving in the USAF.  I always liked that title, but in the plan of God I was not destined to make a career of the chaplaincy.  Of course, the most familiar term has been Brother Randy. All of the terms for clergy carry some theological meaning, and I like what Brother Randy communicates.  I am a brother in Christ.  Not their superior or subordinate, just another member of the family of God with a calling to serve God through vocational ministry.  Some change that slightly to Brother Corn, but I have noticed that those I have a significant bond with will typically call me Brother Randy.  You might say we are on a first name basis.

There are other titles that my fellow clergy have used.  One friend upon coming to a new church was asked what he would prefer to be called. He thought for a moment and said, “Well, my life verse is 2 Corinthians 5:20 which says we are ambassadors for Christ, so you can call me ‘Mr. Ambassador’!”  Safe to say, no one took him up on that!  At the other end of the seriousness spectrum I have been told of ministers who insist on being called “the man of God,” or “the prophet.” While there is some biblical precedent for these phrases, to me they picture someone coming down from the mount with a message of judgment.  Pastors have to do some of that, but they also have to come along side the sheep and, like the old hymn says, “rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave, weep for the erring one, lift up the fallen, tell them of Jesus the mighty to save!”  It seems to me the title that fits those duties best is Pastor, and for those in my fellowship I think Brother Randy captures the relationship.

There is one more title that I have heard applied to me only twice—the term ‘Father.’  Both of those occasions were from respectful folks who were nominal Catholics and simply didn’t know how to address me.  It is understandable why people from a hierarchical church would like that term and why those of us from a congregational church would not.  Still, I have to admit that in 1 Thessalonians 2:11, 12 the Apostle Paul speaks of himself as a caring, concerned father to the Thessalonian church. It was with that background in mind that I recently spoke of myself as a father of a church that I love.

I had been invited to be the Homecoming speaker at Bethlehem, the church I served for the last two decades of my pastoral career.  The service could not have gone better.  Though I was not in good voice, and had to be seated behind the pulpit, the congregation seemed eager to hear me.  My text was Philippians 1:3-11, the great passage where the Apostle begins, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”  I spoke of their past (vs. 3-5), present (vs. 6-8), and future (vs. 9-11), noting that these verse divisions speak to our head, our heart, and our hands in turn. I was able to weave in a good number of stories about my time as their pastor and had their attention, as well as laughter, and a few tears through the whole sermon.  

Long ago I learned the importance of conclusions.  A good conclusion can drive home the main idea of a sermon and a bad one can obscure it. During my preparation my wife Joy made a suggestion.  She said, “Why not include 3 John 4?”  I was resistant at first because it made me sound like I saw myself as their spiritual father, but I had to admit it did capture my emotions.  The verse says, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”  I finally came up with a way to work it in.

I said, “When the Apostle John was an old man, he wrote the brief letter we call 3 John.  He may well have been older than anyone who would be reading his letter, and so it was completely appropriate for him to speak of them as his children.  I am not the oldest person in this sanctuary, but I think it is safe to say that, due to my illness, I am aging faster than anybody else here.  Grant me this one indulgence and let me call you my children. I greatly desire for you to walk in the truth, the truth that I have tried to expound today.  Believe me when I say, nothing would give me greater joy.”