The Unofficial Official Document

I was talking with someone the other day in my office at church about some of the things I keep in there. Like a typical pastor’s office, there are photos, memories of past events, way too many books, random piles of items that need to be put away, diplomas, and other things. What was kind of funny and spontaneous was that I mentioned my certificate of license to preach and how old the document is. (An example of one is below. If you want to see mine, you have to come by my office.)

The reason I laughed is that I received it as a teenager; I think it was after the first time I preached (almost thirty years ago…please don’t do the math). Now, I have been blessed with two master’s diplomas. I have an undergrad diploma, my high school diploma is somewhere in my office, and an ordination certificate. But whenever I think about all of the documents that hang in my office, the thing that still makes me smile, and a little proud, is that little certificate in a common black frame.

What is this document?

In the Southern Baptist churches I grew up in, it was common: after someone said they felt called to preach, they’d be examined, and then present themselves to the church. The church would listen to a sermon or two. Then they’d vote to grant licensing and sometimes would present a physical document. If I remember correctly, that little church also might have done more, but it’s been some time, so my memory isn’t the best. I know they gave me a Bible, which I still have; while not my everyday Bible, it still has purpose and deserves its own story for another time. There may have been photos or even a meal, but this little document has remained, and it sits in a prominent spot in my office.

Officially, especially as a Southern Baptist, this little document doesn’t carry much weight. No one has ever asked to see this certificate. No one has ever asked if I had it. It is the most unofficial official document in my office.

Why is it important?

Obviously it isn’t important because of how it looks. On my license, the ink has faded. The names are barely readable. The date may be the worst of all. If I didn’t point it out to you, I doubt it would register as one of the “important things” in my space. It’s the one document in my office that I keep where I can see it; most of the other documents are behind me.

It’s important because of what it means to me. Again, it was the most official “stamp of approval” my home church could give, and looking back, that’s still how I see it. Not that they had faith in me, exactly. They had faith that God would use me in the future. They had no idea where I’d go or what would happen. You have to remember I was really young when they gave it to me. To be transparent, they didn’t even know if I’d stay with it, but they trusted God to do the work anyway. (I realize that’s a bigger step of faith as I get older.)

After the event of receiving this license, other people and churches invited me to come and preach. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights, a mixture of all of it. When I first started, my parents had to take me because I couldn’t drive. So many people told me they’d be praying for me. So many of them listened to (in my opinion) some pretty bad sermons by me along the way, and they chose to love on me regardless.

A lot of life has passed since those early days. As a pastor now, I’ve been at this for a while. I think about the little home church more now that I’m back in this area. A few people who heard me then are still around, and they keep encouraging me in that same sweet way.

Pastor Mark’s Takeaway:

So what do I do with all of this? First, I’m honored by, and want to remember, the people who gave me that certificate. All of the ones who prayed, who sat through some pretty rough sermons, and who loved on me anyway because of what God was doing. Their encouragement was so valuable to me.

Second, I think this little piece of paper leads me to prayer. My prayer is to pass it forward. I often spend time looking for the next one who is going to step up and preach. I’ve been fortunate enough to let a few people along the way try. Some went on to become pastors, while others obviously didn’t. I think that’s the point of trying at all. Maybe that’s what the piece of paper holds…the hope of trying.

So as you pray, pray for the next generation of preachers, teachers, pastors, and learners. Pray that someone along the way will encourage them. Pray that maybe you can be that encourager. Because I’m praying for that too.