They Touched Me

It was my first week in high school and I was in the principal's office beginning the slow process of changing and maybe even saving my life. If the secretary happened to be listening to the conversation, she probably thought I was getting my rear end chewed to a pulp.

He was explaining that I was on the wrong track in my life and that I had too much to offer for me to be wasting it and living like I was living. He was demanding that things change and that they do so starting that day.

I was stunned. Being called to the office the first week was a shock. I had not been there long enough to have gotten into any trouble and it was amazing to me that he even knew who I was, much less anything about how I was living my life.

Yet here he was noticing me when I thought I was invisible and totally ignored. He was concerned when I felt no one cared what I did or what happened to me. He saw potential when I was convinced that I was dumb and ugly. Without going into long and boring detail I was programed very early in life to think I was ugly and then somehow decided I was dumb and probably could not pass many of the courses in high school and certainly none in college. It seemed to me that no one cared and yet this principal took the time to notice and care. When it seemed like no one believed in me, he said I had something to offer and was in danger of wasting it.

It sounded like a chewing out to others, it sounded like a message from God to me and it actually started changing my life.

The principal’s name was Prather Brown, a former coach who said little and scared many. He did not come across as warm and fuzzy, but what coach ever did? He shared no platitudes nor any of the motivational jargon about being able to do anything I wanted to do. He just said, “Shape up.” He must have sensed my deep feelings of inferiority and, instead of lecture, from that day until I graduated, he started giving me challenges that, if accomplished, would gradually build self-confidence.

In our school, every class produced a play every year and the music department presented an extravaganza called “Say It with Music.” It seems to me that every time one of these events was scheduled I would get a call to the office where Mr. Brown would inform me that my job was to be sure every seat in the auditorium was sold. Looking back, I should have realized that my hometown always supported every event in the schools, so the seats were going to be filled whether I did anything or not, but I did not see that then. I blanketed the town with ads and gimmicks galore and felt like I was the advertising executive for the whole school. I had accomplished something and a very significant person in my life believed that I could do so. I cannot tell how good that felt or what an impact it was gradually having on how I saw me.

Two experiences my senior year capped off this story somewhat dramatically. First, Mr. Brown told me that the committee that produced the previous year’s annual had ended up with a debt of $450.00 and that my job was to not only produce the annual for the current year, I was to do so without debt and make enough to pay off the debt from the previous year. He said if I could not do so, there would be no more annuals published, I guess forever. There was no committee appointed, no teacher assigned to oversee, it was just me. Since it was clear I had to sell ads in the book, I asked for the prettiest girl in the school to assist because I knew no merchant in town could say no to her.

We produced by far the smallest and ugliest annual maybe in the history of annuals. There was an ad on the bottom of every page. I never saw the figures, so I assume we paid off the debt, if there ever really was one.

Then came graduation. At mid-term he told me I did not have enough credits to graduate. Lives do not change in instants; they grow one silly millimeter at a time. The initial chewing out and subsequent jobs were making real life changes, I wasn’t suddenly smart nor less ugly. I had a block against studying. If I studied and failed it would prove that I was dumb and somehow, I could not allow myself to prove such a thing, so I never studied and dropped any class that would require it, so I was short one-half credit. He explained that I would go through graduation but there would be an asterisk by my name to indicate that I would have to complete my studies in summer school. When the graduation programs appeared, most of my friends had that notice by their names but mine did not. I started to just be quiet, but Mr. Brown had been too nice to me for me to not go see if there was some mistake. When I asked him, he said, “I checked your transcript last week and you have enough credits.” He went to the file and pulled my transcript and it showed seventeen- and one-half credits. One half more than needed. I said, “How did that happen?” he smiled and said, “If you have them do you really care how you got them?” He gave me geometry.

When I was sixteen, I told my home church that I thought I was supposed to become a music/educational director. I admired the person doing that in our church and most likely I saw such a move as a dramatic effort to get my father to like me. As a result, after high school I took my studying block to Hardin Simmons University. There I met Mrs. Billie Lacy, a remarkable English professor and the second of the two people who helped change my life.

Mrs. Lacy must have sensed what Mr. Brown saw. She singled me out and informed me that I was to come to her office at least once per week and she was going to teach me how to spell. She said she had never failed in that task and did not intend to fail with me. Unfortunately, I broke her record. Somehow, I misspelled words where her rules did not apply, and it was rather maddening to her. She sent me to the Psychology department for extensive testing. Supposedly about my inability to spell, but I really think she was after my “being dumb” hang up.

When the test came back, she did not have me go to the lab and hear the results. Nor did she call me into her office to tell me. She walked into her large class and walked to my desk, put her hand on my shoulder and announced to the class that I had been fully tested and that I was a genius. So, I became one to the only certifiably stupid geniuses in history. That day started my slowly developing victory over being dumb and afraid of proving it to be so.

After I became a pastor, I was able to write Mr. Brown and tell him what he meant to my life. He immediately answered my letter and said it would be placed in his bank box for safe keeping. Then he wrote, “It feels like the song He Touched Me.”

I was asked to speak at a religious emphasis week at Hardin Simmons and Mrs. Lacy came to every service. During the week I spoke to the faculty and was able to tell them how her touch had changed my life and she was there that day.

I told these very personal stories for a reason. I was raised in an evangelical church and I remember often hearing how Jesus said we were to be fishers of men. Of course, that was always used to motivate us to do evangelism or as the Baptist call it Soul Winning. I was never very good at that. I don’t do cold turkey selling very well at all. But maybe fishers of men is not just limited to soul winning. Jesus spent most of His time teaching about our helping one another live life here and not just being sure they get their tickets punched to get into heaven. He talked about cups of cold water, visiting someone in jail, clothing the naked, bearing burdens, loving unlovable, could all of those also be fishing for men?

We may not be good at buttonholing people to talk about religion, but everyone can smile and who knows what power there can be in just a smile or a compliment or noticing someone who may really need to be noticed. Or maybe like Prather Brown we can find someone who is down on themselves and find ways to encourage and walk beside them as they struggle to find purpose for their lives. Maybe we should all stop and see if we are actually fishing or just talking about doing so.

I am now 88 years old, so I am on the downhill side of my life. Looking back, I have made a lot of speeches in a lot of places and written a few books I hope somebody reads and found some help, but what I really hope is, that I have listened to someone who really needed an ear at just that time. That I made someone feel significant who never felt that before. That I accepted and loved someone who was crushed to their knees with guilt and my acceptance of them led to their believing that God would also accept and forgive. I want to know that I loved folks that most people thought to be unlovable. I may not have many scalps of happy pagans hanging on my belt, but I hope there are at least some who found the grace from God because they found it in me. I want to touch the way I was touched.

Fanny Crosby was a great writer of many hymns that are deeply loved. She said her favorite verse in all of the ones she wrote is the third verse of Rescue the Perishing. Unfortunately, it is the third verse and Baptist usually skip those, but it says:

Down in the human heart,
Crushed by the tempter,
Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;
Touched by a loving heart,
Wakened by kindness,
Chords that are broken
Will vibrate once more.

WOW