People who planted mustard seeds

Most of the people who changed my life never tried to. They weren’t aiming to be memorable or influential—they were simply doing what came naturally. 

In this episode, I reflect on the men and women who planted small mustard seeds in my life and opened doors I didn’t know existed. 

Decades later, their influence continues to grow.

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Transcript

094 People who planted mustard seeds

Most of the people who changed my life never tried to. They weren’t aiming to be memorable or influential—they were simply doing what came naturally. 

In this episode, I reflect on the men and women who planted small mustard seeds in my life and opened doors I didn’t know existed. 

Decades later, their influence continues to grow.

I think today of people who made a significant contribution to my life. In my memory, these people were’t trying to make a difference. They were just being themselves. But their influence continues to encourage me decades later.

The summer I was 15 years old, a group of us were swimming on a Sunday afternoon in Beaverdam Creek at Liberty Primitive Baptist Church near Coble in Hickman County, Tennessee. One of the men who was there was Cousin Sid O’Guinn. I don't think he’s my cousin, but that's the way people referred to him (properly pronounced, Cudin Sid O’Guin). Here's my mustard seed. He was 80 years old. He cannonballed into the creek, came out, and did it again. Up until that time, my impression was that an 80-year-old person didn't have fun. They were too old to play. That is the origin of my proverb, "People don't quit having fun because they’re old. People get old because they quit having fun.”

The next mustard seed planter was Miss Louis's Grimes. She’s my first Sunday school teacher at Shipps Bend Church of Christ. She’s a single lady who was proud that she attended David Lipscomb College. Each week, we received a card about 3 x 5" with a scripture, memory verse, and picture on the front. On the back was a short Bible story with questions. We received a new card each week. We were to read it and discuss it in class the next week. Her influence on me was solidified one afternoon when my father went to her house to make some repairs. She and her mother made me my first peanut butter and banana sandwich that I ate in the swing on the front porch of their house.

Mrs. Inis Puckett was my first-grade teacher. She exhibited her love for teaching and children. I remember the rhythm band and an operetta we performed. I was a brownie. She communicated that learning was fun. Her attitude and influence remain with me to this day.

My fourth-grade teacher was Mrs. Ruby Sawyer. At the time, I thought she’s oppressive. It seemed like we did outlines for months. Roman numeral one. Capital A under Roman numeral one. One under capital A. And that continued on and on. Since that time, outlining’s been easy for me. This has been an important tool for my 65 years of preaching.

That same year, when I’s 10 years old, Garland Elkins came to the Shipps Bend Church to preach in a gospel meeting. He stayed in our home. One morning, he said, "Jerrie, I'm going to town to get a haircut. Would you like me to drop you off at school?” On our 1-mile drive into town, he said, "I hope you’ll consider something I'm going to tell you. I think you’d make a good gospel preacher.” That idea had never entered my mind. I thought about being an airplane pilot, an artist, and a cowboy. But I still remember that day and the mustard seed he planted. He’s driving a dark green and light green 1956 Chevrolet. That suggestion has influenced the rest of my life.

Six years later, Ward and Idell Mayberry were living in a house next door to our house. He invited me to hunt and fish with’m. He’s employed by the Tennessee National Guard. He’s also our preacher at Shipps Bend. One day in January 1961, he said, "Jerrie, I don't think we should have to pay a preacher to fill in for me while I'm going to national Garden camp this summer. You’d preach one Sunday night, wouldn't you?” 

He helped me prepare the sermon I preached on June 18, 1961. Idell typed the outline. The next month, I’s invited to the Lower Sulphur Church of Christ. After the service, they asked me to return once a month to preach for thum. Two other congregations followed. I was speaking three out of four Sundays each month during my junior and senior years of high school. It started with a mustard seed and has been growing since then.

Agnes Fry was my freshman and senior English teacher. She continued the outlining instruction of Mrs. Ruby Sawyer. As soon as the bell rang to start the period, she gave us our assignment for the next day. Each part of the assignment was outlined: Roman numeral one, Roman numeral two, Roman numeral three, as many capital A's and capital B’s as needed, ones and twos continued until we had a detailed description of what was expected tomorrow. I never recall telling her, "I don't remember you saying we had to do that.” We had a clear contract, and it was mutually understood.

She was an excellent teacher. However, a short talk we had one morning, a few minutes before class started, made an impression on me. She was all business during class. However, during that conversation, I saw the soft side of Mrs. Fry.

The summer before my freshman year, I’d diagnosed with an overactive thyroid. I went to numerous doctors in Centerville and Nashville. I had to miss several days of school to make the appointments. I sat on the front seat in the classroom against the right side of her desk. She asked about my sickness and listened with the same focused intensity with which she gave assignments and taught each class.

Cecil May invited me to participate in a workshop in Oxford, Alabama. I knew who he was, but’d never talked with him personally. After that workshop, he asked me to be a resource person for the LeadersConnect retreat at Faulkner University in Montgomery, Alabama, for four years in a row. I thoroughly enjoyed each time Gail and I were able to participate. I call it one of the best-kept secrets in the Church of Christ. The people I met gave me multiple opportunities to lead workshops and meetings and to consult with numerous congregations. Cecil was a balanced, humble, scholarly, and effective preacher and teacher. He was and continues to be an important influence in my life.

Most lives aren't shaped by grand gestures, but by small mustard seeds planted by ordinary people—seeds that God continues to grow long after the planter has moved on.

What small seed might you and I be planting right now—without even knowing it?