Pearls of Wisdom: Paragraphs
by: Dr. Charles Killian, Asbury Theological Seminary Professor 1970-2004
I have enjoyed the discipline of sending my RAMBLINGS out to my 8000 plus readers. At the turn of the year, I hung up my teaching and preaching responsibilities. I felt I needed a respite from it all, so I placed a few other responsibilities on that ‘its-alright-to-put-some-things on the shelf’ kind of a thing.
After six months of gaining some new perspectives on life and living, I have decided to return to what I will be calling, PARAGRAPHS. In my work as volunteer in our public schools, I was quite interested in the discussion about ‘paragraphs’.
It all took me back to my third-grade teacher, Miss Maude Karn, and her insistence and demand that we write a paragraph. She would say, “A paragraph is a series of sentences that express a unit of thought.” I just couldn’t grasp it. I failed the assignment and worked on it for several days before I got the ‘drift’. I have to tell you, paragraphing is still a challenge.
I think that is the point. I face this new season in my life with a commitment to write with more clarity, and to express myself more deeply. The sum of which is….say more with less verbiage.
Paragraphs, here we come!
We had breakfast with Reggie this morning. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. Jane and I usually have breakfast at Denny’s on Friday mornings and while we were eating, a middle-aged man and his family were seated next to us.
Before long we could overhear his conversation. Reggie was talking about his ‘thankfulness to God’ for all his blessings. I could decipher that he was a ‘believer’ and that he was not hesitant to share his faith. He caught my eye and I gave him a ‘thumbs up’. And he smiled and returned the gesture.
When we finished our eating, I went to his table and thanked him for his witness. I said, “You are a believer?” “Yes, indeed.” He followed me to the check-out and we continued our conversation. “How did you come to faith?” He gave a winsome smile and said, “You know, God had it all lined-out—I said ‘yes’ and now I’m gonna’ follow Him.”
My dear friends, getting it all lined out is our eternal quest! Thanks be to God for this simple and yet authentic witness that reminded me of the greatest GIFT given.
When a death hits us squarely in the midst of our agendas, we are usually moved to compassion and concern. Several years ago I received one of those awakenings.
I visited a good friend in the hospital. She was dying, and I was told she had just a few days to live. She was rather quiet as she placed some seeds in Dixie Cups. I watched her without comment. She pushed each individual seed gently into the soil and covered it.
She looked up at me and asked, “Did you ever plant anything you knew you’d never see come to bloom? My favorite flowers are the nasturtiums. These seedlings will be planted in my front yard, so that when my family sees them they will remember me. You know, Chaplain, it is important to plant things you will never see.”
She was right. We have no assurance that the things we ‘plant’ will ever come to bloom and ‘flower’ into life. In trying to make sense of life, we all can confess that ‘we are on the Way’; and if that happens, it will be because of a faith in the possibility of ‘planting things I won’t see flower’.
For the past several weeks I have been an interim pastor for two smaller churches in Sampson County, North Carolina.I love the smaller church settings and when people are so positive and warm-hearted, it is sheer 
joy to be with them. A couple of weeks ago, a wonderfully strange and exciting happening occur. We had gone through the early part of the liturgy and it was time for the sermon. I usually preach with few notes, but this Sunday I felt I needed some assistance with a thin manuscript. When I got to the pulpit there was no manuscript. I was frantic. What am I to do? I couldn’t ‘wing it’–I had no wings. The congregation looked somewhat amused, others had no idea what was going on. So I ask the congregation to pray for me and I exited the sanctuary looking for my redemption….it was not there; so I enter the sanctuary and a dear saint on the second row, said, “Pastor there is a folder to the right of the pulpit.” There is was. I picked it up and without comment, I burst in song….at the top of my voice I blurted out singing the Hallelujah Chorus, and as if on cue, the organist started playing it and the congregation got the shortest rendition as we all had a great laugh, along with a burst of applause.” And the sermon went on.
Dr Killian, This is Dave Schmidt – student in the 1975-76 school year…dropped out after that. I was one of your acting students along with being in one of your classes I believe, although I don’t remember which one. I saw your articles in the electronic “Asbury Seminary Alumni” publication and had reached out to you a few months ago about tracking down some of my old classmates. For me, it has been a long and interesting journey, the last 40 years. When I returned to my home state, Nebraska, I was broke and had no job or means of support. My dad had sold the family business during the time I was at Asbury and I had to start over from scratch working menial labor, which I did for several years. Since then, through several career changes and many ups and downs, I’ve ended up as a faculty member at the University of Missouri. I never imagined I’d end up back in higher ed as a student, let alone get a research PhD and become an academic. God has taught me many things…and has “untaught” me many more. Through all of that, I’ve often thought of my time there and participating in your acting ministry. You had a profound encouraging effect on me and I wanted you to know that I’m grateful for your kind and encouraging words. Hope you’re having a great time in your new “stage” of life. Dave
Remember me? I was at ATS 1980-1983 and enjoyed our classes and your wit and friendship. Now retired from ministry I have served a church for 10 years and still enjoy every part of it. You and others prepared me well. Those were great days. And you must remember Carole and we are still going strong at 80. Son David in his tenth year of mistrust in CT and doing great. Your letter reminded me of my spiritual routes and our last class together on death and dying. Keep on keeping on. Blessings