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Chapter 1: The Pay is "Out of This World!"
How Much Does a Deacon get paid?
During the spring of 1997, I conducted a Deacon Training Retreat for
a church six hours north of my home. Since my wife was unable to attend,
my twelve-year-old grandson agreed to accompany me. I was proud to have
my "assistant" along who helped by passing out materials and collecting
registration cards.
During the drive, he turned our conversation to details of the conference.
I explained what we would do and what he could expect. He surprised me
with his next question, "Grandpa, are they paying you anything?" He wanted
all the facts, including the amount, travel expense reimbursements, and
finally who was willing to pay for my efforts.
Amazed by his curiosity, I explained that some money came from our denomination,
some from the host church, and some from the deacons themselves. He shrieked,
"Do you mean that deacons are paying you to tell them how to do their work
in the church?" After a short period of silence, he asked another question,
"How much do the deacons get paid?" When I told him they are volunteers,
he couldn't believe that men who served without pay, would pay me to train
them!
During the quiet moments that followed our conversation, I thought about
the rewards of deacon ministry. My mind raced to events from twenty years
before--I thought about Bobby's hands.
Bobby's Hands
Bobby's whole family was a valuable part of our congregation. His father,
Dan, was a Navy Submarine Officer and served as a part of our deacon ministry.
Anne, his mother, did a lot of everything else; teaching, cooking, singing,
and caring for families.
The couple, for the early years of marriage, thought that they could
not have children. Like Sarah and Abraham, God filled their home with laughter
when He gave them a son. Then the next year, God gave them another son,
another year and another son. It finally came to a halt when the fourth
son, Bobby, entered the world. Four in a row, all beautiful, healthy, and
each one a carbon copy of the others.
In August 1977, Dan left for a ninety-day submarine cruise. He would
not see sunlight, or have any contact with his family until he returned.
With her husband away, Anne volunteered to serve as nurse and cook for
our associational youth camp. Her neighbor on the Navy base volunteered
to care for Dan and Anne's four boys, so Anne could go. The arrangements
looked perfect. Anne had a good relationship with her neighbor and completely
trusted her. She recently joined our church after Anne led her to the Lord.
Wednesday night after dinner, the children began to help with the clean
up chores. With six children aged five and under, this was no small task.
Doug, Bobby's two and a half year-old brother, led Bobby to the bathroom
of the duplex side occupied by the neighbor. What Doug did not know was
the plumbing in this side of the duplex was the reverse of his own. He
turned the only bathtub faucet he could reach--the hot. Bobby fell into
the scalding water, stopping his fall with outstretched arms.
The water severely burned Bobby on both hands and his lower arms. The
neighbor called the military paramedics, who applied emergency care, and
transported the child to the hospital at Travis Air Force Base, thirty
miles away. While in route, the hospital assembled a specialist medical
team to care for Bobby.
They called me as the ambulance was pulling away. I immediately called
Gary Cowan, the deacon assigned to minister to this family, and we left
for the hospital.
We had a hard time finding Bobby. First he went to the emergency room,
then to the operating room. We caught up with him at the Pediatric Intensive
Care Unit around 11:00 p.m. They suspended his arms above his head, and
tied his body to the bottom and sides of the bed to eliminate the possibility
of excessive movement. Bobby was heavily sedated but still thrashed as
he slept.
Bobby awoke the first time around midnight. His eyes darted around the
room until they fixed on his pastor and deacon. Finally, after nearly seven
hours of torture at the hands of strangers, he saw some familiar faces.
It was a small, delicate, and somewhat unsure, but unmistakable--Bobby
smiled. He drifted back into a peaceful sleep.
Around one in the morning, the burn specialist joined us for a few moments
to relate the seriousness of his injuries. He said that Bobby could experience
full recovery, or more likely, the limited use of his hands for the rest
of his life. Regardless, he would require treatment for many years. After
a time of prayer, we returned home.
The deacons' wives jumped into action and responded to the family's
needs. The church prepared meals, arranged for baby sitting, did the laundry,
and cleaned their house.
Dan returned from the sea a few weeks later. He and Anne prayed and
worked diligently at helping the traumatized children recover from their
ordeal. They continued Bobby's treatment at Travis Hospital for the remaining
year of Dan's assignment on Mare Island. The next summer, they moved to
their next duty station on the East Coast.
We never lost touch with this family. We exchanged cards and letters
with them during the years that followed. Often they would include an update
on Bobby's progress.
Twelve years later, they came through town again and visited our church.
They spent Saturday night on the church parking lot in their camper.
Sunday morning, Gary and I arrived at the church around 7:00 a.m. to
turn on the heaters, prepare the rooms for the activities of the day, and
make coffee for the early arrivers. Around 9:00 a.m. the doors to the fellowship
hall opened with a loud clatter, in walked a gangly-looking teenager, tripping
into the room. We watched from the other end of the room as he stretched
out his discolored hands in our direction. He said, "I want you to see
my hands."
Bobby moved rapidly toward us as we stood and exchanged tearful hugs.
He thanked us repeatedly for being with him and the rest of the family
during their time of need. He then said, "I know I was too young to remember
the two of you at my bedside, in fact I don't remember the burn or even
being in the hospital. But I know all about what happened and what you
did for us. I have heard my parents' testimony many times through the years.
They have shared what happened to us in every Sunday School class and every
church testimony service for as long as I can remember."
Bobby is a student at Liberty University preparing to follow God's call
into youth ministries. His mother describes him as ". . . a stalwart Christian
young man who displays a consistent level of maturity both socially and
spiritually." His hands show only minor scarring, and though sensitive
to cold and heat, are fully functional. The rest of the family continues
in faithfulness to Christ. It was a joy to "come beside" Bobby and his
family during their time of need.
In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus reminds us of the promise of eternal rewards
for those found worthy. Verses thirty-four through forty read:
"Then the King will say to those on His right, 'come you who are blessed
by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since
the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to
eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger
and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick
and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then
the righteous will answer him, Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed
you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a
stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did
we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you? The King will reply,
'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers
of mine, you did it for me.'"
Could there ever be a greater reward than what awaits us in eternity?
God pays deacons, but not with money. The reward for faithful service is
far beyond anything that money can buy. Unlike money or power, it lasts
for eternity.
Gary and I will never forget Bobby's hands.
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