Fixing Things

October 6, 2011

Leaders of schools and school sports have rarely been asked to do more with less than is demanded of them today.  Their plight has brought back to my memory that many years ago, a pastor from North Carolina, Stephen M. Crotts, told this story – one that I’ve kept in my files, and in my heart, ever since.  He said:

I started my ministry in Charlotte County, Virginia.  And there was a deacon in the church there named Harvey Milton who ran a seed and feed store in Drakes Branch.  Harvey and his wife Margaret sort of adopted me and helped me along during those first tentative years of the ministry.

I remember one day after I’d been there nearly three years.  I was struggling with trying to do too much, trying to keep everybody happy, trying to fix all the hurts.

I stopped by to see Harvey at his business and found him hunched over the back door replacing a broken hinge.

“What are you doing?” I politely inquired.

“Well, Stephen,” Harvey intoned, “there are four kinds of broken things in this world.  There are those things that are broken that if you just leave them alone they’ll fix themselves.  Then there are those things that are broken that are none of my business.  It’s up to somebody else to fix it.  Then there are those things that are broken that only God can fix.  And finally, there are those things that are broken that can be fixed and it’s my job to do it.  And this door is one of them.  And that’s what I’m doing . . . fixing this door.”

Stephen finished by saying this:  “When urgent calls, opportunities, pressure, criticism and thoughts of all I could be doing come, those words help me sort my duty.”

Perhaps those words will help you too.
 

It’s Change, Not Status

January 5, 2016

When I see a professional sports team install a scoreboard that is more expensive than the total of the interscholastic athletic budgets of the two dozen high schools closest to that stadium, I gripe.

When I see a half-dozen medical professionals scamper out to attend to an injured college football player, and then watch a local high school junior varsity soccer game where no medical professional is present, I grieve.

But in spite of these dispiriting moments, I never wish that my life’s work had been at those higher levels. Long ago I was impressed by the statement that we should measure impact by change, not by status.

It is at the school sports level, much more than at so-called higher levels, that lives are changed. No glitz. No glamour. Just huge results, with limited resources.