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 4th 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 (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 40. Copyright pending
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