Immaturity and sin have one big thing in common: they’re more obvious in others than in ourselves.
At a state Baptist convention attended by a thousand or more church leaders, during a business session when anyone is free to walk to a microphone and express an opinion about the motion on the floor, I noticed the same young pastors kept rushing to address the messengers. At times what they said was pertinent, but one got the feeling they liked the sound of their own voice reverberating off the walls of that majestic worship center.
Returning home, I wrote a letter to the editor of our state paper–in hope that some of these guys might recognize themselves–suggesting that these youngsters could save themselves a lot of embarrassment and the rest of us considerable time if they would attend a few meetings before speaking out. That way, they might know what they were talking about instead of having the chair gently inform them that they were misinformed or out of order or clueless on this issue. (In the next issue of the paper, the mother of two young preachers took me to task for my insolence. “McKeever was young once,” she said. I was then 44.)
I have indeed been young and I have been green and ignorant, and I possess lots of experience with immaturity.
In my first church following seminary, I can still recall (painfully, I might add) the way I was critical of one of our state convention workers who would plan the annual youth evangelism meeting a few days after Christmas. Since my church was doing well and our youth were excited and the numbers growing, all the evidence proved I was an authority on working with youth. To my thinking, it did. I could have written a book on what that guy was doing wrong and how he could get it right.
And then, something happened.
