Timothy J. Clarke - The Power of One, Difference

I want to thread this need a little bit more and talk about the power of one. You can be seated in the presence of the Lord. Beloved, I am Deacon Limit, but I am aware—and perhaps, of Kathy Lockhart, I should add to that that Daryl. I am acutely aware that Victor, you and I live not only in a world, but Elder Ernie, we live in a time when there are certain words that border on being anathema to our culture. There are some words that our culture not only resists but acquires; there are some words that our culture outright rejects. These words are part of—well, I’ll say it this way, my Mary. These words were once part of the common lexicon of our nation; they were part of the warp and the woof, the fabric of our means of communication. These were words that we trafficked in and we used them. They belong, though now, to how shall I say it, to a bygone era, and we now live in this modern, highly sophisticated, highly technological world. We live in a world where these words are anathema. They are not just resisted; they are rejected. One of those words is the word «deacon,» a deity that I want to lift up and look at today. We’ve been talking about this idea of this concept, this thesis, this argument of the power of one. That you and I—and I think I have said it, but I am not sure that I have said it with specificity, that I have said it with clarity, that I have said it with the gravity that it demands. But I have sought to say throughout the month of May that you and I live in a world that is marked and known by our inability to concentrate. Everywhere we turn, Deacon Sylvia, everywhere we look, there are these shiny objects that are aimed at distracting us and causing us to lose our focus. We get so wrapped up in them; we become so enamored with them. We get so obsessed with them that, like trinkets, they float before us, always in front of us—sometimes fleetingly, other times frontally. Everywhere we turn, every waking moment, these trinkets are used to capture our minds, to seize our attention, causing us to lose our ability to focus and pay attention. We’ve lost it. This nation, this generation knows nothing about focused attention. Our minds wander constantly. It is said—it is said, Tanya—it is sad that right now, while I’m preaching the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, the message and means by which we are saved, while I’m preaching, I am thinking in my mind I must not preach too long because folks' attention spans are not that good anymore. Preach, Clark—you put preachers, you put the pulpit under such duress; you do not allow us to argue a passage, to exegete the text, to treat a scripture, because while we’re preaching, your mind is wandering. While I’m preaching right now, you’re doing two or three things in your mind, and some of y’all, so brazen, you’re doing it while I’m looking at you. You’re scrolling, going through Facebook, answering emails, balancing your checkbook; you’re trying to get somebody’s attention in the choir, and here I am laboring in the word: the grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of the Lord abides forever. We have become so immune to the word that we sit up under it, giving the preacher a time schedule. Come on, Doc, come on, Doc, hurry up, learn the brain, Doc. While you’re trying to give me the land to play, your life is crashing. We have lost the ability to focus. Concentrate—our young people, our children can’t do it. They can hardly hold a conversation with us; their minds wander. They hardly know how to have a conversation. They’d rather tweet you or text you rather than talk to you. Come on, I need help behind me. You’ve got to help. We live in a world, we live in a generation, we live in an age where these little trinkets, these baubles are infiltrating our conscious and subconscious to the degree that we’ve lost the ability to focus. I told you all that story—I told y’all that story about Dan Craig sitting on the front porch one day. I went by the house; I had gone somewhere and came back. He was sitting on the front porch, Bible in his hand. The Bible wasn’t open; he was sitting on the porch in the rocking chair. I looked at him and said, «What are you doing?» He looked at me as if I had two heads. He looked at me and he said, «Thinking.» I looked at him like he had two heads! Beautiful summer day, and you’re wasting it thinking? He was not disturbed or perturbed; he came right on rocking, as if to say, «You’re disturbing me; I want to get back to thinking!» I think sometimes, Pastor Kelly, you remember those Friday nights when he and Pop would play checkers for hours? Crown me! Laughing when they would jump—you can’t jump backwards! Who said we can? You should have made that rule when we started! These two preachers, I was playing checkers. This generation ain’t never played checkers. Take too long to sit down and play checkers; take so long to play chess. They’d rather play something on their phone that blows up people’s heads off. I’m preaching whether you say Amen or not. That is the culture.