Impressions

Impressions are important. Everyone has heard the phrase, "first impression." Our impression on others determines our legacy in their lives. Sometimes the impression is unfair, sometimes earned, but nonetheless it's an indelible mark on the consciousness of another person.

On my first day of seminary I made quite an impression. The day started as a usual day, just earlier as I made my way from Sulphur Springs to the Metroplex. I grabbed my briefcase as I left the house and looked forward to a great day. Little did I know. I sat in the driver's seat of our Ford Explorer, found a good radio station, and hit the road. It was the beginning to an exciting day.

I pulled into the parking lot across the street from the building where my classes were held. I had an evangelism class, church history, and a Hebrew class to attend. I was nervous, excited, and ready to find my classroom and take a seat. I grabbed my briefcase and headed out for new territory.

I stood at the busy intersection waiting for the pedestrian signal to tell me it was alright to walk across the crosswalk. Finally, the green light came and I headed across the street eager to get to class. Four steps into crossing the street, I twisted my ankle causing a stumble that lasted about ten steps until a final wipe-out in the turn lane. During my graceful traverse, I was also able to throw my briefcase while wildly waving my arms in a futile attempt to regain my balance and composure. I kept neither. I picked myself from the asphalt and hurriedly grabbed the books and bag that were strewn around the street while drivers patiently honked their horn at the idiot who was limping around as quickly as he could.

I finally reached the other side and took inventory. Do I have all my books? Check. Is my briefcase broken? Check. Do I have a rip in my slacks? No. Did I rip both knees in my slacks? Check. Is my shirt dirty? Check. Is my ankle swelling at a rapid pace? Check. Do I have any shred of dignity left? Absolutely not.

I made my way inside and found a restroom where I tried to clean up a bit and I noticed that even my tie was torn. How do you tear a necktie accidentally? I'd never heard of such a thing. I can make things happen that mere mortals cannot fathom. After getting in as much order as I could, I made my way to the classroom, found a seat at the back of the class, and readied myself for the initial lecture.

"Good morning," said the chipper professor who looked like a combination of Mr. Rogers and a normal person. "Welcome to my class. Let's start with introductions. Please tell us who you are, where you're serving in ministry, and when you felt called to the ministry."

What!?!? Are you kidding me? I was at a Southern Baptist seminary, I'm not Baptist, I was outnumbered. My mind started racing, "you've got to come up with something good." I was raised Episcopalian and began going to the Christian Church when I was in Jr. High School. I didn't have the cool salvation and calling stories these Baptists were telling. I was at the back of the line, and each successive student seemed to try to top the previous student's "calling" story.

Maybe if I told them I was in prison for a terrible drug habit, burglary, and murder during my day's in the Hell's Angels when a great light knocked me down on the way to Dumas and I heard the voice of God say on June 9th, 1989 at 9:10:11 PM, "Clint, I am your Father!" No. That won't work. So I did the best I could when my time came.

"I'm Clint Stephenson. I'm currently the preaching minister at First Christian Church in Sulphur Springs, Texas."

It was at that moment I felt the inaudible gasps and amazed stares of those who couldn't believe an infidel was among them. It turns out that not all felt that way, but there were some. If you ever meet Brian Wickman, he's a militant Baptist, don't make him angry, he'll condemn you. Anyway I continued with the, "calling," portion of the introduction.

"And I really can't give you a date or time of my calling. I just realized over time that we're all called to follow God in different ways, and my way is to preach." Imagine a room full of people staring at you with their mouths open and crickets chirping in the background. That's what it seemed like anyway.

"Ooooookay...ummm, thank you Mr. Stephenson." said Mr. Rogers' creepy cousin.

You're quite welcome Mr. Rogers. Now why don't you start talking a bit so I can get my money's worth out of this neat little experiment, chop chop.

The lecture started and I settled into note-taking mode, forgetting that I was an infidel wearing torn clothes that smelled like tar. I was writing in a spiral notebook while the guy next to me was typing notes on a laptop. I could almost imagine him going into Best Buy and asking, "Where would I find a laptop computer with the loudest keys ever invented?" Hey, Ham Hand, you reckon you might be able to pound those keys harder?

Finally there came a break time in the class so students could visit the restroom and get some more coffee. I tried to further clean up my impressive wardrobe, grabbed another cup of coffee, and headed back to my back row exile seat after the intermission. Picked up my pen and readied myself for some more fascinating rumination from Mr. Rogers. As the second half of class started I realized it was possible that the professor might look more like Mr. Bean...Anyway....FOCUS! After class ended it was lunch time.

That's when I noticed I had spent the time after the break with a significant portion of my shirt tail sticking out of my partially zipped fly on my pants. IMPRESSIVE! Why don't I just spend my entire time in my afternoon class sitting on the front row eating boogers? What a day. But don't ever say to yourself, "It can't get worse than this." Usually it can.

After breaking my zipper trying to pry my shirt free, eating lunch, and returning to class, there was still a lot of fun headed my way. Nothing will get you energized for an hour long commute home than a Hebrew class with a professor who never actually opens his eyes while speaking. I felt myself nodding off, head bobbing, trying not to drool and further add to my already half-day-long proud legacy.

Class ended. I chatted briefly with some new classmates who were looking at me strangely, but I figured it was due to the events earlier in the day. One admitted he was at the intersection when I performed my rendition of the pavement swan dive. I thanked him for being a spectator. I packed up my belongings and headed out. One last trip to the restroom before hitting the road. As I was washing my hands I looked into the mirror and saw that in my groggy attempt to stay with the class and the head bobbing that went with it I had written four rather long marks on my face with a blue ink pen. Nothing like putting an exclamation mark on the day! Why don't I just streak down the hall on the way to the parking lot to solidify my place in the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary Losers Hall of Shame.

The drive home was nice. Me, the radio, the interstate, and a time to let an impressive performance wear off before I walked into the parsonage to see my wife and baby girl. I pulled into the driveway after dark. Grabbed my bag and coffee cup and walked in the door. As soon as I was in the house, Chrissy asked, "How was your day?"

"Unbelievable," I said.

"That good huh? That's GREAT Honey. I've been praying for you all day," Chrissy said.

"Then quit it."

You're making an impression every day of your life. We stumble and fall, but the more important impression we make is how we get up. Sometimes life causes us to feel torn and tattered, but the Great Physician stitches us back together, and we can tell others about it. We've all got the marks on us of poor decisions and disobedience, but God washes them away with the waters of baptism and the blood of His son.

When I wake up in the morning, I have a routine. Part of that routine is to say to myself audibly, usually in my truck, "You're going to make impressions today, they'll last longer than you know. Make impressions you're proud to make." While you live this day many eyes, ears, minds, and hearts are soaking you up. If you're a follower of Jesus, you have the indelible mark of God on you in salvation. Make a mark today for the Kingdom of God.