This is part one of a two part ‘Chaplain’s Corner’. The true event told in part two, next month, should clarify and justify part one and hopefully hit the target.

Born the son of a preacher man, and being ordained to the ministry since 1977, I’ve heard a lot of preaching in my sixty years. If even ten percent of all those sermons had any lasting effect upon me, I suppose I need never to hear another sermon. They have not, so I continue to listen for that one that will. Allow me to share a couple things that I have observed about sermons or messages.

First, it is ironic that the most meaningful messages usually don’t involve much preparation. Seldom do they come from the priests and preachers who spend many years in Seminary learning how to prepare and deliver those life-changing messages. It often seems that the more education the marksman obtains, the worse his aim.

Many of you know that two and one-half years ago I returned to Seminary following a brief twenty-five year break. There is a lot of opportunity to hear preaching at Seminary. Three days each week they provide Chapel where a highly credentialed man (Southern Baptists don’t invite women to preach you know), is invited to preach. I must confess here that I have heard only about one-third of those Chapel sermons provided. You see, the first two semesters at Seminary, chapel attendance is mandatory. My life long problem, perhaps mental disorder, is that anything that I’m forced to do; I never want to repeat voluntarily. Therefore, I haven’t. Just one of those deals that come from having a right attitude implanted using a strap. I’m guessing many bikers, especially you older ones, are nodding in agreement right now. Don’t know if it was his choice of weapon, or good aim, but the great John Bisagno’s chapel message is the only one that I remember. The others probably had bad aim; hit about eighteen inches high, a head shot.

Heads talk to heads and information is gained and exchanged. Only that message that aims and strikes the heart, a shot to the heart, is remembered and brings change. A shot to the heart is hard to make because the marksman can’t prepare and deliver by himself. He needs outside help.

One of the best shots to the heart I’ve ever received took me by total surprise. Whisky” Jim Burney’s eighteen-year-old son at the Chapter 69 BFMC Clubhouse delivered it. Not trained in oratory or Theology, this young man, in five minutes affected my life more than all the Doctor Reverend Suits combined.

While talking to Jim’s widow, Shirley Burney, at the recent National I knew this finally needed shared. It has been seven years. Someone reading this needs this shot. I hope my aim is good, I sense outside help. It is a set up; I hope to see you next month.