Floyd was a custodian, carpenter, handyman, and all around good guy at the church I served in Fort Collins, CO. He would set up and later take down tables and chairs for our senior meals program, arrange each meeting room for upcoming events, and clean the entire 25,000 square feet of the building.
Floyd also constructed very nice furniture for the church when we had some unique need. One day I asked him if he could make me a portable table-top lectern. We could use it for Stephen Ministry classes, certain adult classes on Sundays, and any number of times there was a speaker in a classroom.
The response I received was Floyd’s usual, jolly, “Ok, Pastor. I have some scraps at home so it won’t cost us anything.” Two days later he brought in the finished project. It was very portable, coming in three pieces that could easily be assembled in seconds.
With such a design it could be tucked under one’s arm and carried anywhere without burden. In the almost 30 years since its creation, this table-top lectern found itself in most any room of the church. It went with me to both Rocky Mountain and Grand Canyon Synod assemblies whenever I led a workshop. It is placed in the center of our makeshift altar here at University Lutheran Easter Sunrise worship. If you saw last Sunday’s worship, I used it when forced to record in the Campus Center library.
“Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” was the title of the last Dr. Seuss book published during his lifetime. It is also an apt description of the travels of this little lectern. Neither Floyd nor I had any idea this lectern would still be around almost 30 years later much less serve in so many places for all kinds of functions. We both thought he was simply crafting something for one church program consisting of 20 people each week.
Three pieces of scrap wood have served a very useful purpose over the years. It would seem they may continue to do so for some years hence. This makes me wonder what simple things you and I may be doing now even in, and perhaps especially in, this pandemic setting that might last long beyond their intended purpose. What lecterns might we be constructing that will far outlast their moment? Maybe some of our “lecterns” will be memories created that will continue to touch someone. Maybe our “lecterns” will be what we did not do in our frustration and loneliness. Maybe our “lecterns” will be passed along through some recipient of our work who in turn passes along something we gave or shared with them.
It is not important that we recognize a particular thing that we do may have a greater and longer purpose than intended. Floyd and I both were very happy and content with how this lectern served its original purpose. That alone was sufficient. What is important is that we recognize our words, our deeds, and our life often go far beyond themselves to places and people we never envisioned. It is enough just to know this is possible.
I wonder how often I would have thought of Floyd over the decades if I did not have that table top lectern. I confess each time I use it, I do not think about him, but many times I do. And when I think of him I think not only of his skills at carpentry, but the kind of person he was and some memories I have as serving as his pastor and having him on our church staff. Good memories. The kind that can keep a person hopeful in less hopeful times.
Make your “lecterns”, perform the tasks of your life, routine and otherwise. God can take lecterns and make them into memories that touch us. Even our daily grind that demonstrates a “stick to it” determination can speak volumes now and later. “ I remember how Dad or Mom, or __________was during the pandemic” will be the tale of many to their children and grandchildren. They will be sharing a story that they may have tried to emulate later in their own life in a difficult time.
Build those lecterns! Scraps are just fine. You never know where they will end up. O, the places they might go!
