I Am Oz, The Great and The Terrible

As I “set pen to paper” it’s a stormy night in early July; the day before Independence Day.

I just finished listening to one of my “saved” broadcasts of my favorite radio/internet programs: “Night Sounds”

The main focus of tonight’s topic-oriented broadcast was “The Wonder of It All,” a.k.a., “Souls on Tiptoe.” And as the show began, the host of the program, Bill Pearce, very ably extolled the blessings involved with discovering a vocation or ministry, religious or secular, to which you are “called,” and practicing the wonder of making a difference in lives on a daily basis.

Over the course of twenty plus years I have been doing this very thing, and almost without exception I have enjoyed every minute of it.

I have counseled thousands, (in the context of my pastoral counseling practice,) I have taught hundreds, (as I was privileged to serve on the adjunct faculty of a local university, my alma mater, for several years,) and I have mentored dozens, (within the framework of a formal year-long discipleship and mentoring program which I developed).

The Wonder of It All.

Such an honor and privilege to impact lives, since I know that “my students are living messages to a time that I will never see.” And speaking of the former phraseology, one of my counselees/mentorees/disciplees, (she was all of the above) once assured me,

“Dr. Bill, I don’t want to disappoint you. I’ll speak for you when you no longer can. I’ll go for you when you are long past going. I’ll continue to make a difference in your name after you’ve gone on to your reward.” (Or something very similar).

The Wonder of It All, Indeed!

At this writing, I am 2/3 of a century in age, (and a great grandfather,) though I still bike 10 miles a day, and am in excellent health. Nonetheless, in spite of the second half of the foregoing sentence, my ministry seems, (with the emphasis on “seems”) to have seen better days. My opportunities for counseling, teaching and mentoring have, at least for the moment, kicked into the “past tense” mode.

And it has been too easy to bemoan what was and may never come again.

For I am a creature of Impact. Without the opportunity to make a difference in lives, why, I think I would just dry up and blow away like a tumbleweed.

But I think those among us who have transitioned into the so-called “golden years” of their lives desperately need the insight which only perspective can bring. The perspective that nothing always remains the same, and that those things which God has for us to do may very well metamorphose into something we (initially) hardly recognize or appreciate.

(Granted, there are exceptions to the rule. My pastor is 80 years old and still going strong; doing what he has done for well over half a century. But this is hardly the norm).

I have struggled to understand, much less validate “The Wonder of It All” in my own life the past few years. I have wrestled to gain an understanding of what I should be doing at this stage of my life; when my public ministry has become much more private in nature.

Not unlike the aged doctor in the movie, “Something the Lord Made” who invites his slightly younger assistant to “pull up stakes” and jump feet first with him into an exciting new opportunity in a distant city.

“C’mon, now. Wouldn’t it be fun to do it just one more time?”

But with the intuitive understanding that that “one more time” was the “one last time” which we just completed, and that the one more time which we have become familiar

…may never come again.

And if I were to close this musing with the last line, well, that would be inestimably sad,

…(So, I won’t).

For you see, in spite of the anxiety of growing older, and seeing the ministries which I once held so dear slip from my grasp, I am convinced, and I am increasingly content that God isn’t done with me yet, that He still has a work for me to do, and that my intrinsic value to Him, and to the people He chooses to set in my pathway is as strong, and tangible as ever it ever was.

Way back in elementary school, (it was the first or second grade) my teacher coxed me to portray The Wizard of Oz in the play of the same name. I will always recall the laughter which greeted me, as I stepped out onto the stage. (It might be helpful to understand that I had been chosen to characterize the fire wizard, and as a result, Mrs. Sampson had applied copious amounts of rouge to my cheeks and the reddest lipstick to my lips).

(And if I’m ever called upon for an encore, I’ll be ready. For I still remember my lines.

“I am Oz, the Great and the Terrible. Who are you and why do you seek me?”)

But if there is a relevant moral here, for at least in the movie The Wizard of Oz chose to operate behind a curtain; for it was behind the curtain that he did what wizards apparently do best.

And in recent years I can so well identify with the movie version of “The Wizard of Oz.” For not unlike my one and only juvenile stage appearance, those ancient days of “strutting my stuff” before an audience, with all the resulting notoriety,

…may well be at its end.

And the future years, which remain to me, of doing what I do “just beyond the curtain” seem to have replaced the billboards and the lights.

But in spite of the metamorphosis in my ministry, it is still a ministry, and God has, in His infinite mercy, decided that I still have something to do, and something to give.

At this stage in my life I have been busy editing devotionals and graduate papers for former interns, students, and relatives. I have continued to provide counsel to my mostly “invisible” friends on various social media sites, and I maintain an internet blog. Beyond this, I have written numerous, (yet unpublished) volumes, and hope, with time, to “get them out there.”

No, God isn’t done with me yet. And while my formal ministry has given way to a more informal brand, it still exists, it’s still ministry, and like me, it’s still healthy.

(Thank you very much).

And if I should operate behind the curtain, as it were, it is not for me that I do what I do, (and will continue to do ‘til I lay it all down).

For so much like the words of that dear young lady, whom I alluded to earlier,

“Lord, I don’t want to disappoint you. I’ll speak for you. I’ll go for you. I’ll continue to make a difference in your name, as long as you give me breath, and the strength to do so.”

(By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 4)