Dr. Bill Meets Dr. Jim

In the early 90’s, possibly 1995, Dr. Dobson co-sponsored a week-long counseling seminar in Denver, along with The American Association of Christian Counselors. My wife and flew out for the seminar, and while Jean found various things to keep her occupied, especially sight-seeing (she loved Rocky Mountain National Park) I attended various daily subject blocks that were presented. Of course, I was in my early years as a pastoral counselor in Winter Haven at the time.

 

On the last night of the seminar, Dr. Dobson spoke to what was easily a thousand participants. Afterwards, he invited whomever would to speak to him a moment and have their photo made with him. It seemed like hundreds lined up for this howdy doody time with him. Since there were dozens and dozens of people ahead of me, I decided I would head back to the hotel where Jean waited. As I walked out the conference hall door, I rethought that decision, since I really wanted to meet the imminent doctor. I turned around and got in line. By this time I found myself like three people from the end.

 

Oh the patience of this wonderful man. He chatted amicably with each person, like they were long-lost friends, and posed for photos. From time to time, he would encourage friends of the individual he was speaking with to step up and pose with him and them. Time was dragging by, and the line slowly crept forward.

 

Finally, as I approached Dr. Dobson, there was one person in line ahead of me by this time, I looked over to my right, and Shirley Dobson was standing there, looking by impatient by this hour of the night, barefoot and holding her sandals in her hands.

 

I heard her say, “Jim, it’s getting late. We really need to go home.”

 

Well, you can imagine how disappointed I was, thinking “well, there’s one persona ahead of me, and now he’s going to turn on his heels, and walk out.”

 

But I suppose he spoke to her and encouraged his wife that he was almost done, I don’t recall now, and then it was my turn.

 

“And so, do you have a question or comment, my friend?” I had previously thought what I might ask.

 

“Dr. Dobson, if you were to give a pastoral counselor one suggestion, what would it be.”

 

I realized that was a broad, open-ended inquiry, but I thought Dr. James handled it very well.

 

“Well sir, if I had time to consider your question in the way it deserves, I might come up with something more profound, but my advice to you is to ‘be loyal to your clients, your pastor, your church and your God.’”

 

This bit of advice might not mean a great deal to you, but as a counselor it certainly registered with me.

 

I thanked him, and headed out the door, and walked a couple blocks back to the hotel where my wife was anxiously waiting for me. It was near midnight, and my Jean was frantic that I’d been mugged, and being held for ransom. She had asked a security guard if he would assist her, and he told her that if I didn’t show up soon, he would be glad to scour the streets for me. It was about this time that I appeared… and I won’t go into that, but you can imagine Jean’s relief, as well as her momentary indignation.

 

It was the 4^th of July, and our last day of our trip, and we planned to visit “Focus on the Family” headquarters in Colorado Springs, but I woke up sick to my stomach and, well, vomiting, and was in no shape to travel the 50 or 60 miles. I realized that the steak I’d eaten in the hotel restaurant, the night before, had been bad. But when I told Jean we were going anyway, she thought I was out of my mind. Well, she drove, and I held down the passenger side of our rental car.

 

My wife pulled over once at a Burger King, and she went in and ate, to avoid exposing me to the smell of hamburger. I was still deathly ill. But still just as determined I was going to see what I was determined to see.

 

It was a real privilege to see the place that Dobson built. Obviously in a much larger sense, the place that God built.

 

 

All of that to say this, “Focus on the Family” is almost certainly the largest Christian outreach of its kind. We toured the bookstore, walked into the main building, saw the studio where Dr. Dobson broadcast his daily radio program, we were given information about the publishing department of the ministry there, where many brochures, papers and books are published and distributed around the world. Jim Dobson has been a guest speaker on many television programs, and served on a governmental panel which made recommendations to combat child pornography. As a footnote, you may be aware that Dr. Dobson was invited to interview Ted Bundy just prior to his execution for the murders of countless young women. That interview can be seen on the internet.

 

The absolute moral character of this man is remarkable. To my knowledge there has never been any accusations of any sort made against this remarkable psychologist. Years ago, when his radio co-host, I won’t mention his name, was found to be involved in immorality, he was immediately terminated; no ifs, ands or buts about it. And by the way, as he and I spoke together for all of two minutes that evening, the humbleness of the man absolutely shone through. But tonight we are examining the character trait I have referred to as passion or zeal. This precious man set his eyes on the prize and would not be denied.

 

When he was still in college, Dr. Dobson was quite a tennis player. As a matter of fact, he won the regional championship represented by the various colleges in his area of California. For years a beautiful gold trophy was displayed in the trophy case at Pasadena College, now Point Loma College. Well, the good doctor had almost forgotten that old trophy, as he went about his graduate training and secular ministry. It seems, however, that one of James Dobson’s college friends, who remained in the area, was jogging around the campus one day, and he noticed a glint in a dumpster. Tim stopped and began to dumpster dive, as it has been called, and came out with an item he immediately recognized. Apparently someone at the college felt that old trophy had been on display well past its prime, and it was time to dispose of it. The tiny tennis player on top was broken in a couple of places, and the identification plate was in bad need of polishing. Tim took the trophy to a local shop, had it repaired and cleaned up, and mailed it to his friend, Dr. Dobson. Of course, when he opened it, tonight’s Giant of the Faith, was shocked to see it and to read Tim’s letter which accompanied it.

 

Dr. Dobson ends that little story with the poignant phrase,

 

“Life has a way of trashing your trophies.”

 

Yes, indeed. Who can dispute this? But I think we need to examine what we count as trophies, and I think we ought to reevaluate where we invest our passions.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from the volume "Writings"