Lord, Let Me Be a Living Sermon For You
I finished giving my 7th talk to a group of Christians attending a weeklong retreat in a wooded campground. As I walked alone on the path to my cabin, I wondered if my sharing had touched anyone. It was such a diverse group (150 people, ages 12 to 89). I’d never met any of them before, but after my 7 hours of sharing myself, they certainly knew a lot about me.
I wished I knew what my sharing had meant to Winston, the tall black man from Kenya, who came as a guest. Did he understand my stories? Could he feel my emotions? Did he think my clever remarks were funny, or had they gone over his head? Could he relate to my journey with God, or was my life so different from his that my experiences seemed trivial?
Winston sat in the back every time I spoke and seemed to disappear after the sessions, so I never spoke to him, personally. I imagined he didn’t want to talk to me, so I made no attempt to reach out to him.
The final morning after breakfast, as I was preparing to leave the camp, Winston approached me and said he wanted to speak with me. I was a little nervous for fear he’d say he hadn’t understood anything I shared. But instead, he said in a very soft voice, “Thank you, Mrs. Zakich, for your inspiring witness. You are a good teacher.”
“Oh,” I said, nervously, “Did you understand the things I said?”
Winston smiled and responded, “Mrs. Zakich, It wasn’t the things you said. I watched you each day on my early walks to watch the sunrise. Every morning while others were sleeping, you were in the Chapel arranging the chairs, picking up coffee cups and papers, adjusting the microphone and cleaning off the tables. That is what impressed me. You are truly a servant leader. Thank you for that sermon. I will always remember it”
Needless to say, I was stunned, but delighted beyond words. The joy of the Lord had been my strength on those cold mornings when I thought I was alone. I had no idea that Winston would see Jesus in me.
—Rhea Zakich
