She called to confirm that I was indeed coming to address her church’s seniors at their monthly meeting.  “Yes,” I assured her. I had it on my calendar.

Then she said, “Brother Joe, can I talk straight to you?”

Absolutely.

“The last speaker we had,” she said, “was awful.  He had promised to speak on (some subject; I forget what) but when he rose to speak, he preached three sermons–I mean he went on for an hour–and never once dealt with what he had promised.  He was harsh and hard to listen to.  Honestly, it was offensive.”

“The people are still talking about it.”

She was quiet a moment, and said, “We don’t want a repeat of that.”

I took a couple of minutes to tell her what I would be speaking on.  That satisfied her.  And a few days later, she called to say they were all pleased.

I have been where she sat.  I know the feeling, and I appreciate her boldness.

It takes a certain amount of courage–call it moxie or nerve or bravery–to confront a speaker, whether before or during or after he finishes.

Here is my story.

At my church–I was serving the First Baptist Church of Columbus, Mississippi–we had a wonderful tradition each January of bringing in an outstanding Bible teacher to teach a book of the Bible, from Sunday morning through Wednesday night.  And this year–my second year as pastor–I had the best lined up, I thought.  He was the dean of my seminary, a seasoned pastor/preacher whom I knew by experience to be as good as they come.

That’s why I was surprised at what he did on Sunday.

In both the Sunday morning and Sunday evening messages, he goofed off.  He was shallow, silly, and boring.  And we still had the three night sessions to go.

That’s why I went to his hotel room on Monday morning with a huge task.  I had to rebuke our guest preacher.

I got right to the point.

“I need to have a conversation with you about what you did yesterday.”

I had his undivided attention.  This was a highly respected professor whom no one–I mean literally no one–ever rebuked.  I knew enough about him to know he probably would not take this well.  But I had reasons for doing it.

I wanted my congregation to be strengthened by the Word.

I said to him, “Doctor (his name), I know what you are capable of.  You are one of the great Bible teachers in our denomination.  But frankly, you did not do that yesterday.  In fact, I was greatly disappointed.”

I really had his undivided attention now.

I said, “You chased rabbits, you ignored the passage you were supposed to be teaching, and you tried to entertain the congregation.”

“Doctor, our people love good Bible teaching.  We have some great students of the Word in this church.  And I know you are most capable of teaching God’s Word.  Tell them what the Greek word is in this place.  They like that.”

He interrupted.  “Oh, you want me to impress them with my knowledge of the Greek!!! I can do that.”

I said, “No.  That is not what I’m asking.  Just do what you do so well.  Teach the word.  But no more trying to entertain them or chasing rabbits.”

And then I told him why I felt the need to have this conversation with him.

“Last year at this study,” I said, “I brought in a veteran pastor from Alabama.  He had baptized me in 1959.  I knew what a good Bible teaching pastor he was.  But he was a great disappointment.”

“The study was the Acts of the Apostles.  And frankly, he never did teach it.  He would read a passage and once it mentioned a town where he had traveled, he paused and gave us a travelogue on that place.  He did everything but teach the Word.”

“My people quit coming.  By Wednesday night, only a handful of people were there to hear him.  And because I held him in such high esteem, I did not have the courage to speak to him about this.  I let it ride, handed him a check at the end, and sent him on his way. But I determined to never let this happen again.  I would speak up on behalf of my people.”

He did a good job the other three nights of the study and the congregation loved it.

I never once regretted what I did.

And if I’m any judge, he ended up respecting me for it.  He did, that is, after his ego recovered from the shock.

He’s in Heaven now.  I would never have told this while he was living.  There is no sense in humiliating him twice.

Let the pastor be a man of courage.  Because, I can assure you, he’s going to be needing it.