STAYING BY THE STUFF. Pts. 1-6

There are certain movies that I watch again and again. They simply never grow old. 

“A Beautiful Mind”

“Jane Eyre”

“Driving Miss Daisy”

“Mr. Holland’s Opus”

Speaking of “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” I love the closing scene. But to back up a bit.

Mr. Holland has served as a music teacher in an Oregon high school for thirty years; having begun what he described as a temporary “gig,” but at this stage passionately loving every minute the job has afforded him. However, one day he is notified that, for lack of funding, not only is his job being cut, but more importantly the entire music program in his beloved school is being discontinued.

Of course, he experiences depression and disillusionment, and we are witnesses as our hero, on his final day, trudges into his classroom for the last time, and begins to pack a small box of meager possessions.

As he finishes that solemn job, his wife and adult son walk into the classroom, and they subsequently walk out together. And as sad as this scene is, it would be sadder still if that was all there was to it.

However, as the trio approach the front door of the school, Mr. Holland pauses. He hears music wafting from the closed double doors of the auditorium; that same auditorium in which he has previously conducted numerous musicals and benefits over the years.

Mr. Holland poses a question; almost to himself.

“What is that?”

And with this, he turns to investigate the dilemma; leaving his wife and son a few steps behind.

As the aged music teacher opens the door, he seems momentarily confused. The auditorium is full of teachers, students, community leaders and friends, and a large and colorful sign hangs above the stage.

“Goodbye Mr. Holland!”

The frumpy little man catches his breath, and seemingly in an instant the morose emotions which had recently overwhelmed him flee away, and are replaced with a spirit of reflection and gratitude.

An energetic dynamic and joyfulness prevails in this place, and there can be little doubt that Glenn Holland has impacted countless lives represented here. He has been not only a teacher, but a leader; a mentor and a role model. He has contributed mightily to the destinies of countless students, and bequeathed a rich legacy to those who would follow in his footsteps.

Suddenly, the doors swing open again, and in walks a vibrant red-headed woman, accompanied by a couple of highway patrolmen. And Mr. Holland immediately recognizes “Gertrude Lang.”

Gertrude was a former student, and during her tenure here had struggled to master the clarinet. Her devoted teacher suggested she come in before school and allow him to tutor her.

As the young lady places the reed into her mouth and blows, the most horrendous excuse for music invades the air about her. Mr. Holland displays the seeming patience of Job, and continues to work with Gertrude, offering her a bit of guidance here, a story or metaphor there; until she gets it right.

Even as this obviously adept and confident woman strides towards the podium, she reflects on that day from so long ago.

“What do you like most about yourself, Miss Lang?”

To which she responds, “My hair.”

“Why is that Gertrude?”

The pale young redhead smiles, and says, “My father says it reminds him of the sunset.”

Mr. Holland’s response is both poignant and inspiring,

…“Play the sunset.”

And with that, a spark of insight seems to envelope the teenage girl’s countenance, and with that Miss Lang’s clarinet emits the most melodious notes which have ever escaped from it.

But allow me the latitude to return to this later…

Pt. 2

Having first attended a small bible-based college in the 60's, I was afforded the opportunity of serving as an adjunct professor there a full four decades later; it having metamorphosed by this time into a university offering over fifty majors, including graduate level degrees.

Regretfully, virtually all of the part-time faculty were 'dispatched' in the next five years, and replaced by fulltime staff. I will, however, always be grateful for having been granted the privilege which was made available to me of impacting hundreds of promising students preparing for life and ministry. During that time period I met several of whom I sensed a special affinity, and as a result I have remained in touch through social media and email. One such young lady was named 'Sue.'

Over the past couple of years, (and for as long as I have maintained this blog) I have shared selected writings with her. As a result, a few days ago I shared a reminiscence with Sue about a conference I attended in which Ruth Graham, Billy Graham's daughter, presented a series of lectures. I happened to be the first person to walk into the auditorium for one particular presentation, and took a seat on the third row, center.

Suddenly, Ruth walked across the stage and seeing me stopped, and smiled and said,

"I'll be right back."

Well, dear readers, she may have long since forgotten that little innuendo,

...but I never will.

As I previously inferred, I shared this particular story with my former student, and Sue responded with,

"Well, that dear lady is the well-known daughter of an even more famous father, but you may very well remain unknown, except in your little town.”

And her words brought to mind a memorable scene from a memorable movie.

Which brings me back to my earlier story…

Pt. 3

As the middle-aged woman mounts the stage, the announcer’s voice booms across the auditorium.

“Teachers and students of Kennedy High School, the honorable Gertrude Lang, Governor of the State of Oregon.”

The governor stations herself behind the microphone, smiles broadly towards her former teacher, and begins her monologue,

“Mr. Holland had a great influence on my life. On a lot of lives. I should know.

You see, there was a time I was a member of the orchestra here at Kennedy High School, and I was feeling sorry for myself.

I was an aspiring clarinetist, but somehow, I just never seemed to measure up. But one day, when I was about to ‘throw in the towel,’ he came up with the most innovative idea; which had to do with the color of my hair, and the sunset. And my friends, that little metaphor made all the difference in my understanding, and gave me the impetus to play that clarinet, and play it well.

But in spite of his influence on me, and hundreds of other students like me, I have the feeling that he considers a great deal of his life misspent. He wrote this symphony of his to be performed, possibly to make him rich or famous; probably both. Well, he isn’t rich or famous; except in this little town.

He might even consider his life a failure… but I think he has achieved a success which goes beyond mere riches or fame. Look around you, Mr. Holland. For there is not a life in this room that you have not touched. And each of us is a better person for meeting you, or for being your student. This is your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the notes and melodies of your opus.

…We are the music of your life.”

Pt. 4

Over the past few decades, God has graciously provided me the opportunity to counsel thousands, (in a pastoral counseling environment), teach hundreds, (at a local university), and mentor dozens, (in the context of a formal discipleship program). And I acknowledge not only that providential plan which allowed all of this to fall into place, but the gracious wherewithal He has bestowed upon me to make a difference in the lives of them whom He has set in my pathway.

And like Mr. Holland, I am neither rich nor famous; not even in my little town. But I like to think that with all my time and effort, I have irrevocably touched the lives which He has committed to my care; in a profound and inestimable way.

And if this is the case, well, that will be more than enough for me.

I may not be the most humble person who ever walked the planet. I am too close to the thing to judge properly. But I have often reminded my students that

“it is okay to forget the messenger. Just don’t forget the message.”

(and)

“My students are living messages to a time that I will never see.”

Pt. 5

There is a story in 1^st Samuel, Chapter 30 in which the Amalekites had raided, plundered, and destroyed a village in Israel, called, Ziklag; killing many, and taking some of the women and children with them, including King David’s two wives.

As a result, David and his army went after the Amalekites, and, ultimately, visited them with great retribution.

However, a couple hundred of his soldiers remained in Ziklag, and guarded what was left of the village; and the dead, dying, and wounded of that place.

And during the course of my lifetime, I have probably heard a dozen sermons, using this passage as a reference. And without fail, the speaker has referred to the soldiers who remained in that city, and their role there, as “Staying by the Stuff.”

While their brothers went to battle, they literally ‘stayed by the stuff.’ I have often felt that way about my own role in the lives of numerous young, and not so young people, whom I have mentored over the course of the past twenty years.

Oh, there have been some who failed to measure up to my expectations, (and probably their own, as well). However, many have gone on to do some pretty wonderful things.

I think of a family of three whom I once mentored. They went on to do long-term missionary work in Indonesia. Then there was a precious young lady who had the opportunity to do covert missions work in Communist Mainland China; over the course of two summers.

Did I mention a former Hindu lady who was converted to the Christian faith during the mentor program I provided her? She was (and continues to be) an R.N. in the local area, who was privileged to spend a couple of weeks in Kenya on a medical missions trip; during which time she contributed a lot more to caring for the native population, than to sightseeing. 

Pt. 6

My own wife and daughter, (whom I like to think I have impacted along the way) traveled to the former Soviet province of Belarus, and ultimately, to Moscow, Russia on the trip of a lifetime, and were privileged to visit elementary school classrooms, and to hand out Bibles, and invite the students and their families to a Gospel meeting which was, at the time, being hosted by their missions’ team.

And most recently, there was this young lady, whom I once mentored, who went on to complete her Bachelors and Masters degrees at a well-known Christian university, and, ultimately, procured a position with an extraordinarily impactful Christian missions ministry; which has hosted overseas revival meetings that literally millions have attended, and which have resulted in millions of decisions for Christ.

While she works in the national office of this worthy endeavor, this dear young lady will be privileged to participate in the final overseas missions tour of the aging evangelist who founded this ministry. Tomorrow she leaves for Africa. It is thought that my former intern may have the opportunity to participate in the largest single gathering of people in the history of the planet; numbering in the millions!

Time would fail me to tell of the wonderful people with whom I have been associated, and who have done some pretty wonderful things. Those who have gone on to make an inestimable difference in lives.

A pastor and his wife who planted a church in a large metropolitan city, a former university student who, along with her husband, were appointed (and still serve) as missionaries to a country in Africa, a former co-counselor who sat by my side for a decade, and who has gone on to minister as an associate pastor in a local church, and who just returned from a full month of ministry in Israel.

Speaking of ministry, given the ministry with which God has entrusted me, and the impact of dozens of my former interns, (some of whose lives and their resulting impact, I have described for you) I can tell you, I often feel like one of King David’s soldiers who, “stayed by the stuff.”

By that’s okay. No, it’s more than okay!

These precious lives whom I have had the marvelous opportunity to teach, counsel, and mentor represent the notes and melodies of my own opus.

…They are the music of my life.


by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Pt. 72. Copyright Pending.

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