You are a priest, you know. As a follower of Jesus Christ, the Bible includes you in what it calls “a kingdom of priests.” (I Peter 2:9) Some translations make it “a royal priesthood.” Same difference.

Now, a priest has two main functions. Standing between God and man, he represents one to the other. Facing God, he speaks to Him on behalf of humanity. Christians call that intercession. Then, facing the people, he speaks to them on behalf of God. We call that witnessing.

Intercessory prayer and personal witnessing are the two primary assignments of priests such as you and me in this world.

Moses is a good example of such a priest. In Exodus 32, he has to deal with the rebellious Israelites who took advantage of his 6 week absence receiving the Law atop Mount Sinai by creating a golden calf and then lapsing into a particularly debauched kind of idolatry. Moses rebuked them for their sin, then said, “Whoever is on the Lord’s side, come to me!” (32:26) Notice that he is with the Lord, addressing the people for God. They are to get up and come to the Lord’s side. Witnessing.

Later, Moses prayed to the Lord on behalf of the people, saying, “If you will, blot out their sin. But if not, blot me out too.” (32:32) Intercession.

In effect, he said to the people, “I’m with God,” and to God, “I’m with the people.” He had a hold of both and refused to turn loose of either.

Recently while reading through Malachi, the last book of the Old Testament, I noticed a strong word to priests. And since you and I qualify on that account as followers of Jesus, it occurred to me that you might appreciate this brief insight. Here it is, Malachi 2, verses 6, 7, and 8.

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In Southern Baptist life, the associational director of missions–my job–is at the bottom rung of the leadership ladder. The churches in a county or parish, or several counties or parishes, are organized into an association–they do it themselves, however they choose–and then, if they have the money for a salary, they select someone as their leader. In the early days, they called him an associational missionary. When I was in seminary, the guy for New Orleans was Dr. Mercer Irwin, his offices were at the seminary, and he wore the exalted title of Executive-Secretary.

Most associations choose to call their leader a director of missions, or DOM. In Mississippi, they made it ADM, meaning Associational Director of Missions. The joke is they were tired of people referring to the DOM as a “dirty old man.”

I’ve been on the lookout for a director of missions named King, just to see his business card or letterhead: “King, DOM.” Haven’t found one yet.

All the Baptist churches in a state organize themselves into a state convention, select a headquarters office somewhere, choose someone as their Executive-Director and give him a budget with which to hire a staff, then sit back and wait on him to lead them to do something. Nationwide, all the SBC churches form themselves into the Southern Baptist Convention. We put our headquarters in Nashville, turned the keys over to an officer whose unusual title is President of the Executive Committee of the SBC–that office has been held for a generation now by Dr. Morris Chapman–and go from there.

The odd thing about this denominational organization is that the associations do not comprise the state conventions, nor do the state conventions make up the Southern Baptist Convention. You would think they would. On an organizational chart, each is separate and has nothing to do with the other.

The churches make up the association, the churches make up the state convention, and the churches make up the SBC.

There may be another religious denomination organized like this somewhere in the world, but I’ve not heard of it. As the fellow said, “I’m not a member of any organized religion; I’m a Baptist.”

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He has been sheriff of Jefferson Parish since 1980. There has been no one like him on the political scene in this state before and won’t be after. One of a kind. At the same time, the most frustrating bull-headed strong-willed character and the kindest gentlest sweetest strongest leader. Take your pick. No one was neutral about Sheriff Lee.

He was second-generation Chinese-American. His family ran the House of Lee Chinese Restaurant on Veterans in Metairie for many years. He served as a driver for well-known Congressman Hale Boggs before getting a law degree and entering the political fray himself. He was big. The gastric bypass surgery he had four years ago pared off a good deal of excess weight, bringing him down 90 pounds from a high of 375. But he was still big. And opinionated. And wonderful and narrow minded. Love and feared.

In a state that has turned out more than its share of political characters, Lee ranks up near the top. Since the deputies worked at his pleasure, he said, “That means they have to please me.” And they did, otherwise, they sought other employment. These people hired for law enforcement sold tickets to Harry’s annual fund-raisers which raked in large amounts of cash. Lee then donated money to various candidates he wanted elected, bought ads for positions he took, and assisted churches and community organizations. He then expected–and received–the votes and support of those groups. There was nothing subtle about this man. What you see was what you got. Like it or not.

I suppose he was a Catholic, not sure. In an email Monday evening from Robert Storey, the Youth For Christ worker in our area, I learned that Sheriff Harry had given testimony to Robert’s wife Kathy–who works for the Sheriff’s office–that he had found a new closeness to the Lord and a peace with God recently. He expressly asked that Kathy participate in his funeral.

Last year, Harry was found to be with leukemia. A tough kind of cancer, fast-moving, the type that moves in and kills you quickly, as we were made to understand. He spent time in and out of hospitals in California getting strong doses of chemotherapy and other drugs, and then was in and out of Anderson Hospital in Houston. He had a great weekend, we’re told, even going fishing with his grandchildren. Sunday, he suffered some kind of attack, couldn’t get his breath, and was rushed to Ochsner. Evidently, he went into a coma, perhaps from the medications they gave him. No one wanted to say to the world what everyone feared, that the end may be near. Turned out to be nearer than any of us thought.

The sheriff’s office in this parish gets a certain percentage of sales taxes. Since the money does not come from the parish council, Sheriff Lee resisted any attempts from the council to look at his budget. He was not chosen by them, but elected by the people, same as them, so he felt no accountability to them. Therefore, no one on the planet that I know of, has a clue as to precisely how he spent the money in his office’s budget. We’re talking many millions of dollars a year.

Tell me if that’s not frightening. And yet, even with such an obvious problem about the sheriff’s office operations, political leaders in this part of the state were afraid of the man. They did not dare cross him. Now that he is dead, they will say the finest things about him–and there is much good to be said–but I suspect that a great sigh of relief has just gone up from all those who did not have the courage to stand up to what he did and what he would not do. He was the law. And I don’t just mean ‘the sheriff’.

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